#if he can’t force himself to believe then he’ll be right back when he started. so completely and painfully alone

[cosien]

A spreading corruption

A dismantling of the self

[crushmeeren]

How They Eat You Out - MHA / Fem Reader

Everyone is 18+/aged up.

Master List Link

Bakugou Katsuki

❧ Katsuki truly enjoys eating your pussy. It’s just as much for his pleasure as it is for yours. Plus, Katsuki likes to play with his meal before he eats it.

❧ He definitely gets you worked up first. He’ll sharply smack his fingers against your clit, forcing you to specifically tell him you want his mouth instead.

❧ Katsuki teases you with the absolute filth that spills from his mouth “Can’t believe how fucking whiny you are, pretty girl just wants me to eat her pussy so badly, yeah? Beg me for it.” — telling you it’s pathetic, but in the next heartbeat he’s moaning like a whore at the first taste he can get.

❧ He’s one thousand percent the guy who presses your thighs so far back into your chest it makes your ass lift off the bed. His shoulders and biceps flex as he keeps you pinned in place, spread wide open so he can see you entirely.

❧ He runs his tongue from canine to canine before lowering his head between your legs to swirl circles into your clit at a pace that’s maddening. He keeps that up until you plead with him to go faster, promising you’ll never suck his cock again unless he picks up the damn pace.

❧ He has the audacity to laugh, but ultimately he bends to your whim. He’ll wrap his soft lips around your clit, making you see stars when he starts sucking in a slow but steady rhythm. He flicks his tongue up and down at the same time, just to add to the intensity.

❧ Katsuki can also be an asshole. Often, he has you writhing — toes curling and hips twitching, gripping handfuls of his fluffy hair. He gets you begging for his fingers too, needing them so badly, but no. He forces you to cum just from his tongue, poor pussy tightening around air, aching for him.

❧ Don’t worry, he more than makes it up to you, stretching you deliciously with his thick cock right after. Fucking you until your legs are numb.

Kirishima Eijirou

❧ Eijirou honestly just can’t help himself. He’s enamored with your pussy, drunk on it. He loves eating you out whenever he gets the chance. The man gets rock hard doing it because your pleasure is his pleasure.

❧ He’s the kind of guy who loves getting on his knees for you. Grabbing your ankles and yanking on you till your ass is on the edge of the bed. He laughs and drapes your thighs over his broad shoulders, making sure your comfortable while you lay on your back.

❧ Eijirou grabs onto your hips, looking up at you like you hung the moon as he runs his tongue between your lips and up to your clit on the first pass. He whines, lids fluttering closed, nails sinking into your skin at how soft and warm your pussy is.

❧ He licks your clit lazily at first, like one would eat a popsicle. Eijirou savors the taste, letting his lips meet again and again over your clit. Swirling his tongue in between, making out with your pussy.

❧ Eijirou gets so lost in it that after awhile you have to lace your fingers in his silky red hair and tug gently to get his attention. He opens his eyes in question, cheeks flushed pink as he teases your hole with the tip of his tongue.

❧ “I wanna cum Ei, please,” you plead sweetly, rolling your hips up to meet his mouth. He looks at you shyly before he speaks, “Oh! Yes, please cum for me baby girl, want me to use my fingers to help you sweetheart?” Eijirou coos, tone teasing and warm. He rubs your clit with his thumb and nips the soft flesh of your inner thigh while he waits.

❧ You nod yes and Eijirou hums happily, slipping two fingers into your ridiculously wet pussy with ease. He instantly starts licking over your clit again and thrusting his fingers, curling into your g-spot perfectly.

❧ Your thighs tighten around his head, back arching when it takes you no time at all to cum. Gasping his name, pulling at his hair, he moans when your pussy doesn’t want to let go of his fingers as he works you through your orgasm.

❧ Once he lets you go, you find his hand curled loosely around his cock, covered in his sticky release. He grins sheepishly, admitting “I couldn’t help it baby, you taste too good.”

❧ No matter, he’s still hard. Eijirou makes love to you until you cry from overstimulation, wiping your tears with his thumbs and asking you to give him one more orgasm.

Todoroki Shouto

❧ At first, Shouto wasn’t quite sure how to eat pussy. Sure — he could eat pussy, but not well. After your more than willing participation in helping him practice, he eats pussy like a champ now.

❧ He salivates thinking about going down on you now. Often he gets you singing his name, toes curling so tight they cramp, squirting all over his face and fingers.

❧ Shouto starts out slow, laying you out gently on the bed. Biting kisses into your neck, sucking on your nipples. Letting his thumb rub circles into your clit with just the right pressure.

❧ He lays on his belly, placing soft kisses everywhere but your pussy. Sinking his teeth into the sensitive crease of your thigh. Barely ghosting his tongue over your clit. It’s torture of the best kind.

❧ Shouto gets a thrill out of the anticipation. He leaves hickies on your inner thighs and pushes three fingers in your pussy, just letting them rest there until you’re begging him for more.

❧ “Sho please stop teasing,” you whine. Those slender fingers start to move and curl when he responds. “Sorry princess, you want me to make you squirt? Will that make up for it?” he murmurs, voice low and playful.

❧ You moan your agreement, gripping the sheets. When Shouto finally, blessedly lets his too warm tongue run over your clit, your back bows so hard it almost snaps. You breathe out his name and Shouto hums, running his tongue over his top lip. “Good girl, say my name again,” he demands, smacking the side of your hip harshly.

❧ You cry out and Shouto suddenly frees his fingers from you. He hushes you, sliding a slick finger into your ass up to the last knuckle. Wanting to keep you completely stuffed, the fingers from his free hand find their place in your pussy.

❧ You pull his soft hair so violently you think it’ll come out in fistfuls. Sobbing his name as he eagerly sucks your clit in between his lips. You start to cum, entire body taught and Shouto happily finger fucks you through it.

❧ Even when you shove at his forehead he doesn’t stop, bullying your g-spot till you flutter around him again. He frees himself from your tight holes, using his thumb to rub your clit harshly as you squirt, making a fucking mess of his face.

❧ It makes him moan brokenly and then he’s desperately crawling between your legs, begging to put his thick cock inside. You agree and he fills your pussy over and over — sweet and slow until you both cum again.

[darkbunnylove]

Task Force 141 finding out Reader has a crush on them

(mainly fluff but also angst because balance)

You thought you were playing it cool. Emphasis on thought. The glances that linger a little too long, the way your body seems to magically gravitate toward them. Barely noticeable, right? Yeah, maybe not so much. Because feelings like that? Oh, they have a way of showing, sweetheart. And once Task Force 141 catches on? Well, let’s just say you’ve got their full attention now.

Soap stays subtle about it for exactly one week. Conveniently, that’s also the same week he figures out you’ve got a soft spot for him. After that, subtlety goes right out the window. Not necessarily because he falls in love easily, but because he’s been working on catching your attention for months now. Laughing a bit too loud at your jokes? Check. Casual hand brushes? Yup. Memorizing the exact creak your boots make when you walk down the hallway? You bet!

So when he finds out you’re actually into him too? This man doubles down immediately. So much you even start finding little sketches of your face tucked into random notebooks. Oh, and of course, Gaz’s in on it too, sending him updates like: “Rec room. Alone. Go.” and “Laundry bay. Casual. Fold something, I don’t know.”

And sure enough, Soap just happens to bump into you. Constantly. Every day. Always asking if you’ve got time for a coffee. A walk. A chat. Already busy? No problem, how about tomorrow? Oh and while he’s at it, what about dinner this weekend? He’s definitely in too deep to pretend it’s casual now.

Gaz would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little smug about knowing you liked him. Not cocky, just very, very pleased. Well, maybe a little unbearable. But how could he not be? A dream like you, being all sweet on him? It’s taking everything in him not to grin like an idiot every time you look his way.

And the idea of you at his side? Of getting to introduce you like “Yeah, I pulled that. Can you believe it?” It makes his chest go so warm he doesn’t know how long he can take it. So he asks for your number through a friend and tries to play it casual. Then he spends too long staring at the message field, debating how many y’s to add to “hey,” or if he should just play it safe with “hi.”

But it’s alright, because soon you’re texting each other every day. Evenings turn into FaceTime calls. He lies on his back in bed, smiling like a fool while you talk about your day. Sometimes you fall asleep mid-call. But he never hangs up first. And during the day? Gaz always seems to show up right when you need a break. Leaning against your office door, telling some ridiculous story that makes you laugh until it hurts. You tell him he’s impossible. He tells you it’s your fault for laughing. Yeah. You’ve got him. Completely.

Ghost, unfortunately, is not so great about it. At least not at first. When he finds out you’ve got a crush on him, his stomach actually drops. Because there is just no fucking way, right? Not someone like you. Not for him. It has to be a mistake. And if he gives in? He’ll ruin it. He knows he will.

So instead of lingering near you, he does the opposite. He avoids you. For weeks. And every time you do bump into each other, he barely says a word. So you’ve already convinced yourself he’s just not interested. And Ghost? Ghost is convincing himself that staying away is the right thing. Until one night. Maybe it’s stupid but fuck, when he sees you on that hookup app, looking good, too good, and open for something casual, he can’t help it. He knows he shouldn’t. But he sends a message anyway. You meet. And a single night slips into hours. Into heat. Into skin against skin...Perfect, right?

No. It eats him alive. Because now he’s sure you think that’s all he wants. That you’ll never know how deep this thing runs for him. He avoids you for another week. Can’t look you in the eye. Until one Saturday morning, he shows up at your door. Apologizing with flowers in hand and everything he can manage to say out loud.

Price doesn’t quite let himself believe you like him. A sweet thing like you? Surely you’ve got admirers. Someone better. Someone not so... worn down. And god, how old were you, anyway?

No, he doesn’t avoid you, but he overcorrects without meaning to. Careful with every word, every glance. Because he refuses to assume. Refuses to risk making you uncomfortable. So everything stays safe. Neutral. Professional. He says things like “Forecast says rain, tonight.” Meanwhile, he’s thinking about the way you laughed at his dumb joke four days ago. Later. Alone. While smoking. Definitely spiraling.

Then, one night at the pub, your people drift off until it’s just the two of you. Maybe you’re sitting a little too close now. Maybe you’ve both had a little too much to drink. He starts to pull away, because he thinks he should. That’s when another man says something. You laugh, just to be polite. Not into it. But still, it stings. So Price moves before he thinks. One step, then he’s there, hand at your lower back. “You alright, love?” he asks. “C’mon, time to go home.” And by home, he means his of course.

[verstappenverse]

Call Me When You Breakup (Role Reversal)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: You’re with the wrong person, and Max knows it. So do you. He won’t ask you to leave but he’ll be here, hoping, aching, waiting. Just… call him when you do.

Authors Note: Okay so when I was writing Call Me When You Break Up, I genuinely couldn’t pick whether Max or the reader should be the one in a relationship bc I loved both versions too much, so… I wrote both. Figured I’d share this one too in case you needed a little comfort after the first one! (Spoiler: this one ends has a happier ending, promise 💕)

1.6k words / Inspo / Masterlist

Max knows he's in trouble the moment he sees you with him.

It shouldn’t hurt like this. Shouldn’t feel like something inside him is being wrenched apart, piece by piece. But it does. Because that’s not where you’re supposed to be.

You should be with him.

Instead, you’re laughing at something your boyfriend just said, your hand resting lightly on his arm, and Max feels like he’s suffocating in plain sight.

Because he knows that laugh. He knows your real laugh, the one that starts low in your chest and crinkles the corners of your eyes. This one is polite, forced, paper-thin.

You're fading right in front of him, and he doesn’t know how no one else sees it.

"You’re staring."

Lando’s voice pulls him back to reality, but Max doesn’t bother denying it. What’s the point? Everyone knows. They’ve always known.

Lando follows his gaze across the restaurant, shaking his head. "You really gonna keep doing this to yourself?"

Max exhales sharply, gripping his glass tighter. "What choice do I have?"

Lando scoffs. "I don’t know, maybe tell her how you feel instead of sitting here like some lovesick idiot?"

Max wants to. God, he wants to. He’s rehearsed it a thousand times, in the car, in the shower, in those sleepless hours past midnight when he’s certain no one will hear his heart breaking. But it’s never that simple.

Because you’re in a relationship. One that looks fine from the outside. One that checks boxes. One that convinces everyone… except Max, that you're happy.

But Max knows better.

Because he’s seen the way your boyfriend talks over you when you’re excitedly telling a story. How he interrupts, how he subtly corrects you. How he walks ahead without waiting, and rarely looks back to see if you’re still with him. How he only reaches for your hand when people are watching, when it can be seen, posted, admired.

But still, you stay. And Max doesn’t understand why. Because you were meant for him.

You know it too. He sees it in the way your eyes linger on him a second too long. The way your laughter always falters when he looks at you like this, like he’d burn the world down if you asked him to.

But you never ask.

And Max? He’s stuck waiting.

We’re so meant for each other. When will you wake up.

The words sit heavy in his chest, but he swallows them down. Because as much as he wants to say them, to beg you to choose him, it has to be you.

Call me when you break up.

He thinks it almost every time he sees you. It sits there behind his teeth, aching to be said. A quiet, desperate plea. Because he can’t say it first.

You have to want it. Want him.

Until then, he’ll keep watching from across the room. Holding his breath. And praying that one day, you’ll finally stop pretending.

And come home to him.

It gets worse before it gets better.

Max tries to move on. Tries to shove the feelings down, bury them beneath podium celebrations and mindless distractions. He flirts with women he doesn’t care about, lets them kiss him in the shadows of clubs, lets them wrap themselves around him like temporary bandages, but their lips never feel right.

Because they’re not yours.

You’re the only person who’s ever made him feel like he doesn’t have to win to be worth something.

He tells himself he’s fine. That if he says it enough, he’ll start believing it.

But then he sees you again.

You’re sitting alone in the paddock, scrolling through your phone, and you look exhausted. Not just physically, but in the way that sits deep in your bones. Like you haven’t been happy in a long time.

Max doesn’t think. He just moves.

"Hey."

You glance up, startled, before a slow smile spreads across your face. "Hey, Max."

It’s stupid, how much just hearing his name in your voice makes his chest ache. How his whole world rearranges itself around that one sound.

He sits beside you, close enough that your knees brush. "You okay?"

You hesitate just for a second before nodding. "Yeah. Just tired."

You’re lying. He knows it. You know he knows it, but you don’t elaborate, and Max doesn’t push.

Because this isn’t his place.

Not yet.

So he swallows the things he wants to say. Swallows the part of him that wants to take your face in his hands and ask what happened to the girl who used to give him hell just for fun. The one who could make him laugh with a single raised eyebrow, who used to challenge him just to see if he’d rise to it.

He forces himself to play the part. The best friend. The one who listens but never crosses the line. The one who waits in the background, hoping that one day you’ll finally wake up.

But waiting is hell.

Especially when he sees it clearer than ever that you’re not yourself anymore. Not the girl who used to light up every room, not the girl who used to challenge him on everything just to make him laugh. You’ve gotten quieter. Like the wrong love dimmed your light.

And Max? He wants to be the one who brings it back.

He wants to remind you what it feels like to be loved loudly. To be listened to. To be challenged and adored in equal measure. He wants to be the arms you fall into, not because you’re tired, but because it finally feels safe. He wants to fight with you and for you, and he wants to laugh until you can’t breathe, until your face crumples in that way that only happens when you’re so happy you forget to hold it all in.

The call comes finally at 2 a.m.

Max is half-asleep when his phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with your name. His heart lurches before he even picks up.

"Hello?"

Silence.

Then—

"Can I come over?"

Your voice is raw, like you’ve been crying, and suddenly Max is wide awake.

"Yeah," he says immediately, already sitting up. "Of course."

You don’t offer an explanation. You don’t need to.

Because he already knows.

You show up at his door twenty minutes later, eyes red-rimmed, wearing the same clothes from earlier.

Max doesn’t ask what happened. He just steps aside, letting you in.

You sink onto his couch without a word, pulling your knees to your chest. Max sits beside you, close but not touching. Waiting.

It takes a minute before you finally speak.

"It’s over."

The words send a jolt through his chest, but he keeps his expression careful. "Are you okay?"

"I don’t know." You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “I feel like an idiot... I should’ve left a long time ago, but I was scared. Of being alone. Of starting over."

Max swallows hard. "You’re not alone."

Your eyes flick to his, something unreadable swirling in their depths. "I know."

A beat of silence. Then—

“Were you… waiting for this?”

The question slips out of you like a confession, small and uncertain, but it lands like a thunderclap between you.

Max doesn’t blink. Doesn’t deflect with a joke or pretend he didn’t hear. His eyes stay locked on yours, steady and unflinching, like he’s bracing for impact.

“Yeah,” he says, simply. “I was.”

“Max—” you breathe, voice thick and trembling.

But he cuts you off gently, a hand lifting like he’s physically trying to slow the moment down.

“Don’t,” he says softly, eyes searching yours. “Don’t say anything if you don’t mean it, not because you feel guilty, or because you’re hurting, or because I’ve been stupid enough to love you this long.”

“I think part of me always knew,” you continue, blinking hard. “That I was supposed to end up here. That it was always going to be you. But I kept talking myself out of it. Because you were safe. And I didn’t think I deserved safe.”

“You deserve everything,” Max says hoarsely.

You nod, a few tears finally escaping down your cheeks

Max is still watching you like he doesn’t dare breathe, like if he moves too fast, you’ll disappear again.

You reach for his hand, threading your fingers through his. “I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to waste another second pretending I don’t feel what I feel.”

His grip tightens instinctively. “What do you feel?”

You swallow hard, but your voice is clear now. Certain. “I’m in love with you.”

Max exhales like he’s been underwater this whole time and finally broke the surface. His hand rises to cup your jaw, thumb catching a tear before it falls.

“Say it again,” he whispers, eyes shining.

You smile through the tears. “I’m in love with you.”

“I love you too,” he says. “I’ve been yours since the beginning”

And then you’re kissing him.

It’s not perfect. It’s messy, a little desperate. There’s hesitation in the way your lips press to his, like you’re testing the waters of a dream you never let yourself have. But Max doesn’t hesitate.

His hands find your waist, anchoring you to him, pulling you into his lap like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if there’s any distance between you. His fingers slide into your hair, and he kisses you like it’s the only language he’s ever been fluent in.

Like he’s been waiting forever.

You gasp softly into his mouth, and he slows down, gentling it, letting you set the pace. Letting you feel safe. Loved. Wanted.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, breath mingling in the small space between you. Your eyes stay closed, your voice barely more than a breath.

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Max exhales, brushing your hair back behind your ear with a tenderness that makes your throat tighten.

“You’re here now,” he says, thumb ghosting across your cheek. “That’s all that matters.”

[tvgals]

ok so boom, baseball player! ony and his actress! wife strikes again.

ony has been signed to the dodgers for five years now, and he doesn’t plan on retiring anytime soon. he’s been hitting absolute piss missiles for the past year and knows everyone in the league fears him as one of the most feral outfielders in the game.

ony has been on top of the world for years, the biggest headlines featuring his name and how you and him are the best couple to come out since kanye and kim, how the two of you are inseparable and can’t help but show the world, but when you two fight, it’s also obvious to the whole world. ony is a hothead, when the ump makes a terrible call, he’s the first to start throwing curse words and throw and hit shit around the dugout, and you hate it. you hate it because he’s giving himself a bad rap. sure, he could be the best fucking player in the world, but his shitty attitude could cost him a lot.

-

“baby. you know they always make shit worse on tv.” ony argues, leaning back in the drivers seat of his 2019 porsche 718 booster you were pissed. today, the dodgers played against the cincinnati reds, and ony struck out for the first time in a month off of a terrible call, a ball that was basically skimming the ground. he was furious, he stomped his way to the dugout and everyone knew to move out his way. ony flipped out, smashing his bat, throwing around the large gatorade containers, flinging helmets around, the whole thing. you were fuming in the stands, standing up and stomping away yourself. you couldn’t believe ony. you told him that you didn’t wanna see him act a fool in front of all these people again that he was making a bad reputation for himself everytime he acted out…but he never listened.

“you know that everytime you act an ass, it goes back to the dodgers and it makes everyone look bad. you need to calm down.” you reprimand him, scrolling on twitter to see everything people are saying about your husband. “why do you care so much?” he asks, rolling his deep brown eyes. in all honesty, ony couldn’t care less how people perceived him. he’ll forever be known as that dodgers player, that everyone will love him no matter how bad his attitude is. but for whatever reason, you can’t see that. you don’t understand why they put up with him…how you put up with him.

“take me home.” you grumble, firm and angry. ony huffs to himself, stepping on the gas. you watch out the window as you see the trees and mountains pass by as a blur, you felt your body be almost forcefully pushed into your seat, as if you couldn’t lean forward. “ony, slow down.” you warm him, digging your fingernails into the seat. “you wanna go home, right?” he asks, a small chuckle mixed in. your heart started to race and you feel like you can’t breathe. “onyankopon. i am not fucking kidding, slow the car down!” you yell, tears pricking at your eyes. “shutup. just shut up. all you do is preach at me and make me feel like a little kid all the time. i will crash this fucking car if you don’t shut up.” he yells back, stepping on the gas harder. in his haze of anger, he doesn’t notice the deer standing in the middle of the road, or the way you scream, or the way he doesn’t yank the wheel to move out of the way.

the deer hits the car with an insane force of power, taking the bumper off and cracking the windshield almost to oblivion. ony pulls over, the car creaking and shards of glass peppered around the inside of the car. you can’t hold it in anymore and you start sobbing, you can see the way the glass has scarred your skin, you can feel how bad your back hurts and how your eyes feel like they’re about to pop. “what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you scream, unbuckling your seatbelt and slapping ony across the face. he’s stuck in place, his hands grippping the steering wheel with extreme force. “are you fucking kidding me?! you almost killed us and now you wanna be quiet? get the fuck out of here.” you wail, flinging the car door open and steadily stepping out.

you walk away to god knows where, as long as it’s not with that fucking maniac.

[froggiewrites]

pleaseee if you're up for it, another law x reader smut... the first one you wrote was so good and you capture his character so well !!!!! 🧡🧡

Thank you, anon!! I'll never turn down an opportunity to write more for Law 💙 I hope you enjoy!

Stress Relief

Pairing: Law x Reader

NSFW

Summary: Your Captain is working himself to the bone, so you come up with a plan for force him to take a break. Warnings: Smut, AFAB!Reader, Vaginal Sex, Reader's a bit more dominant in this one Word Count: 2.1k

“Law, you’ve been in here for sixteen hours.”

“Okay?” He doesn’t even look at you as his hands move to grab the next paper, which you snatch before he can get it. He doesn’t miss a beat before he quietly shambles another page into your hand, a piece of scrap paper he had been using earlier.

“You haven’t eaten. Or had any water. Or gone to the bathroom.”

“Correct.”

“You don’t see anything wrong with that?”

“I’m busy.”

“You’re also a fucking doctor, Law. You know better. Or you should. I wouldn’t blame anyone for not believing you were, considering how badly you abuse yourself.”

He sighs. “I have a job to do. I’ll sleep when I’m done.”

“You’re never done.”

“Maybe so.”

You roughly run your hands through your hair, frustrated. “I can literally see the vein popping in your forehead. You’re going to stress yourself to death, Law.”

“Is that a diagnosis, doctor?”

“Don’t get cute with me right now! I’m serious! You haven’t slept a full eight hours in weeks, your blood pressure is probably so high your heart is going to burst, you haven’t eaten a real meal in days–” You can’t help the way your breath catches as you continue. He doesn’t care how badly his work hurts him. He’s more than willing to put himself in an early grave if he thinks it’ll bring him even an inch closer to his goal.

He finally looks up at you, eyes softening slightly. “Hey,” he says softly, putting the paper down for a moment to open his arms for you. You easily fall into him, relieved that he seems to have found reason, before he pulls you onto his lap, tucking his chin against your head, and picks back up the paper. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Really. I only have a few more things to do, and then I’ll rest as long as you want me to. We’re in the final stretch now, I promise.”

He doesn’t get it. If you were pushing yourself this hard he would lock you in your room and sentence you to bedrest for days, but he doesn’t care about himself at all. If you don’t stop him, he’ll keep pushing and pushing until he almost collapses.

How can you distract him? Law is stubborn as an ox, though he’d never admit it. It’s nearly impossible to stop him once he’s started, or convince him he’s wrong.

You curl further into him, accidentally brushing your hand against his crotch while adjusting your position, and you can feel the way his heartbeat stutters at the brief contact.

Ah.

Got him.

You press your chest into his, your lips brushing against a spot on his jaw that you know will get his attention. His breath hitches as you grind your hips against his lap, and you can feel how you’re getting through to him.

His voice is tense. “Do you know what you’re doing? Tread carefully, sweetheart.”

You make your voice as sultry as you can. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Captain.” He clenches his teeth as you slowly drag your tongue up his neck. “I’ll do whatever I need to help you.”

“Is that what you call this?” You can feel him try and fail to keep his hand off of your ass, grinding you harder against his bulge. “Helping?”

“Of course it is. You need some relief, Law. I’m more than happy to provide.” Your hand creeps under his shirt, pressing insistently against his chest. “Doctor’s orders.”

He chuckles. “Oh? Did you get your degree since I last checked, doctor?”

In lieu of an answer, your other hand reaches down his pants, and he finally lets out a moan in your ear. He can’t gain control of his breathing, nor can he hide how desperately turned on he is. “Does it matter, sweetheart? I’m right. You need this. You’re wound so tight you might explode. Just let me help you, Law. Please.” You put the perfect amount of whine into your voice, to convince him that he’s really helping you. As reluctant as Law is to take care of himself, he relishes in his ability to take care of you, provide you whatever you need.

“Make it quick,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut as he finally leans back in his chair. Though he keeps up his act that this is such an inconvenience, you can already feel his muscles relaxing beneath your touch. He needs this, needs you, far more than he would ever say aloud.

“Yes, sir.” You pretend not to notice the way his cock jumps in your hand at the title. Best not to push your luck. Instead you press your lips against his pulse, relishing in how quick it is, and gently pump your hand, making his breath stutter. Your other hand gets to work by slipping off his shirt, and throwing it carelessly to some forgotten corner of his office. You take a moment to admire his toned chest, his beautiful tattoo on full display as you gently drag your fingernails down it, tracing the heart. He shivers, and you smile as you notice the slight tinge of red on his cheeks and how mussed his hair is. He truly looks a mess, despite his best attempts to keep it together.

He cracks an eye open. “Why are you still dressed?” You can hear the hunger in his voice, the desire he wants to deny.

You pretend to ponder a moment, humming softly. “Oh, well, since you wanted this to be quick, I figured I didn’t need to add any unnecessary steps. I mean, you really only need my hands, don’t you?”

You can barely stifle a laugh as he tenses again underneath you, looking affronted. “Just your hands?”

“Well, it’s faster that way, isn’t it?”

He glares at you. “Not the most relaxing, though, is it?”

“Well, the doctor suggested the full experience, but my Captain insisted–”

“Ugh. Fine, take your time.” You barely have time to slide your hand out of his pants and swat his hands away from your chest, narrowly avoiding a ripped shirt.

“Ah, ah, ah! Hands to yourself, mister. I’m the one administering this treatment. Just sit back and relax. I’ll take care of everything.”

He sighs, but he parks his hands at his side.

“Good boy,” you say, beginning to unbutton your shirt.

“You’re pushing it,” he mutters, cheeks turning noticeably redder.

You take your sweet time exposing your chest to him, oh so slowly sliding your shirt down your arms to let it fall to the floor. Instead of taking off your bra, you lean forward, subtly pushing your tits together as you brush your lips against his. His eyes are focused downward, and you can see how hard he’s holding himself back from touching you. After a beat, you decide he’s been teased enough, and you fully expose your chest to him. You can see his pupils dilate as he takes in the sight. He’s always affected by you, no matter how many times he’s seen it.

Your hand makes its way to the button of his jeans, popping and unzipping them to give him a small amount of relief. He’s painfully hard, more than ready for you. You want more than anything to rip his boxers off, to ride him until he’s panting and spent beneath you, but you need to make this last. You need to ensure he’s truly and completely relaxed, melted in your hands, so you can finally drag him out of here and trick him into taking care of himself before he comes to his senses and insists on returning to the grindstone.

You return your attention to his neck, nipping and sucking at every spot you know drives him crazy, sure to leave marks he’s sure to get teased for later. You usually take care not to, but the way he moans quietly in your ear, unable to help himself, you can’t bring yourself to stop. You don’t even notice how you’re rutting against his thighs before his hands catch you, and he barely manages to say, “Not fair.”

You manage to still your hips, realizing you’ve worked yourself up enough your breaths are only coming out in small pants. “No, I guess it isn’t.”

“You don’t sound that repentant.”

“I’m not.” Your hands begin to finally slide him out of his jeans and boxers anyway, feeling a little guilty about your freedom to move while he’s sitting still just as you asked. His hands hook under your waistband, and you look up to see his pleading eyes begging you to let him take them off for you. You’ve never been good at saying no to him.

He lets out a quiet sigh of relief as you finally release him, before taking a deep breath at the sight of you fully naked in front of him. You quietly laugh, still baffled by how enraptured he is by you. “You’ve seen it a thousand times. I thought you’d stop being impressed by now.”

His smile is soft and genuine in a way he doesn’t often let himself be. “By you? Never. Every time is like the first.” He leans forward to kiss you, a soft touch offset by his callused hands pulling you forward, his cock insistently brushing against your thighs.

You bring a hand down to line him up with your entrance, before slowly beginning to slide down on his length. You both let out a moan at the feeling of your walls clenching down on him, the relief of finally feeling the warmth you’ve been desperately craving. You give yourself just one moment to adjust, head pressed against Law’s shoulder, before you take a deep breath and start to move.

You start slow, intending to slowly work your way up, but Law does something you never expected: he begs.

“Please, please move faster. Please, I need–”

“I thought you said–ahh!–I should take my time?”

He damn near whimpers. “You took enough time getting to the good part. Please, babe, please.”

“When you ask nicely like that, how could I refuse?” You kiss him sweetly, softly, before picking up the pace, the room filling with the furious sound of skin slapping on skin as his hips meet yours. Your breaths grow quick and shallow as you continue, your moans pathetically needy, though not quite as needy as Law’s. He has given up on your request that he keep his hands to himself, squeezing and rolling your chest as he leaves affectionate nips anywhere his hands don’t cover. As your fingernails dig into his back, you realize you’re both going to be covered in marks by the end of this. At least you can hide yours.

As though he can read your mind, his mouth makes its way up to your neck. You suppose you’ll both have to deal with teasing tomorrow.

You keep up your pace, even as your thighs start to burn, determined to bring you both to the end. Law stops ravishing your chest to help support you, helping you bounce once he feels your thighs start to shake. You can feel him tensing as he desperately tries not to cum before you, one hand reaching down for your clit to try to help you along.

“You can let go, Law,” you pant.

“Not before you,” he stubbornly mutters, eyes clenching shut in concentration. He seems to have forgotten the point of this whole exercise, too determined to ensure you reach your finish as well. You can’t help the giggle that makes its way out. That’s your Law.

Your pace starts to falter as your legs tense further, and you can feel yourself reaching your peak. Law feels it as well, speeding up ever so slightly to bring you over the edge. You come undone in an instant, moaning as you fall into Law, clenching around him. He finally allows himself to let go, shooting into you as he pulls you into a messy kiss, teeth clattering together in his rush to feel you against him.

You both let yourselves relax for a moment, catching your breath, before Law lets out a quiet sigh. “You wore me out.”

You make no effort to hide how smug you are. “Need a nap?”

For the first time ever, you see your Captain filled with resignation. “Fine. …But maybe we get a snack first.”

You grin. “I think we can swing that.”

You’re kind enough not to brag about your victory until after that nap.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[toxycodone]

i want swansea to finger me. i ❤️ fat men

ship. swansea x reader

content. fingering, reader is gender neutral but they do kinda ride his face

Jesus Christ.

Swansea’s had enough of this. Pony Express in general has always been on his ass, making him scoff and roll his eyes at every idiotic new rule or exception they make with hauls. But this one really takes the cake.

Having his fellow crewmate spread eagle on his work bench is fucking ridiculous.

Why do they keep hiring young people? He supposes it’s because they’re cheap, and this company’s the most penny pinching business in the game. But the costs surely outweigh the benefits.

They’re stupid, inexperienced. They can’t keep it their pants, and the effects of the haul start doing numbers on their psyche much quicker that the others. The tension between you two was palpable. Swansea could see the way you eye fucking him clear as day despite all his attempts to keep you focused on work at hand.

Fuck it. He huffs. He’ll take care of this himself. He’s not dying to some stupid mistake you make because you’re two busy imagining getting your guts rearranged to actually focus.

“Can’t believe this shit…”

Swansea hisses. His thick fingers trail down the expanse of your thigh, causing you to shudder.

Fuck, you’re sensitive, huh? He’d feel bad if he wasn’t so preoccupied with annoyance. But he can’t fully blame you. Swansea’s been there before. The hormones pumping through your body are begging you to fuck. Going without a good orgasm is torture to someone your age.

Good thing he’s here. A rugged, experienced individual like him. Yeah. Making a young thing like you fall apart on his fingers will be a piece of cake. You probably don’t know any better, anyways. Years of experience have polished him into quite the lover.

The thick callouses on his fingers force your thighs open, spreading your sex out in clear view. Swansea tsks, trying to fight back the heat that flares through his body at the sight.

“Not only do I gotta watch over you. Show you the ropes, keep you from killing yourself every ten damn seconds—but I gotta get you off too? The fuck does Pony Express think I am, some kind of prostitute?”

The least they could do is give him a raise. Fucking cheapskates. They probably think putting some young, hot piece of ass glued to his hip is a favor for him. Fuck it, they should’ve just been transparent and invested in a barracks bunny. It would save him the constant headache of having to train you.

“You better not take this for granted, kid. Once you’re spent, I’m expectin’ you to work twice as hard next shift.”

It’s a serious declaration. You better haul ass once he’s done this for you. Swansea’s large hand hovers right near where you want him. You feverishly nod in agreement. Whatever it takes to get those digits inside you as soon as possible.

“Good. Lay back and enjoy this, ‘cause I ain’t doin’ it often.”

He would, though. If you asked again. Swansea’s hand moves down the expanse of your thigh, settling over your sex. He trails his thumb down your outer lips a few times, humming in acknowledgement at the wetness that coats your pubes and spreads from his movements.

“Already wet too? God, you’re easy. Or have you been waitin’ for a chance like this?”

His question is rhetorical, obviously, because the way his thumb starts to round your clit has you throwing your head back—blocking any answer that would’ve come out. Swansea knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s had his wife spread like this plenty of times, so it only takes a few movements and studying your facial expression before he finds what pressure and movements have you grinding back into his touch. He’s even sure to pay attention to the underside of clit, poking the sensitive head from its hood just enough to make you jump.

The attention makes you embarrassingly wet. Just from the older man stroking your sensitive bud, he’s already got your hips bucking and wanton moans leaving your lips. Is this how guys feel when they jerk off? Because the way Swansea’s got you coming apart with ease has you inching closer and closer with each passing second.

And when he stops, you whimper. It’s pathetic. But you’re too damn horny to give a shit at this point. Being stuck on the Tulpar has left you at the mercy of your own hand and imagination. Having someone else touch you for once is electrifying.

“Don’t bitch.” Swansea commands gruffly, adjusting himself in his work chair. You notice there's a gentle flush to his cheeks, but his eyes remain focused on your bottom half. His fingers stroke your slit again. The way he’s eyeing the slick that coats it is a little embarrassing—as if he’s assessing something. His middle finger pushes past your entrance, and at the sign of little resistance, the older man smirks. He adds his index finger in the midst of the third stroke, but keeps the pace slow.

Good Lord, his fingers are thick. Almost as thick as he is. They’re rough, thoroughly calloused from years of working with his hands. You can feel that texture on your inner walls as they split you open. Swansea’s thrusting them into you slowly still, but deliberate. Yes, he’s trying to get you closer and closer to that pending orgasm, but—

A choke moan escapes your lips when he finds it, that one spot inside you that makes your stomach drop.

“Right there, eh?” He’s smirking.

Those wide fingers curl around your g-spot, hitting it just right with each movement of his hand. He’s relentless, thumping against the area and speeding up his strokes. Your eyes roll back, vision blurred by stars as your orgasm comes tumbling towards you.

And you think that’s it, but the feeling of stubble against your thigh has you second guessing. Before you know it, Swansea’s lips seal around your slit. His other arm wraps around your thigh, fingers resting above your slit and pulling upwards to make the bud poke out at him for easier access. Your own hips involuntarily start to buck and grind against the older man’s face, smearing a mix of slick and saliva over his mouth and nose as you fuck yourself against it.

You cum quicker than you ever had in your life on his face. Never, ever have you been more thankful for Utility being so secluded from other parts of the ship. The sounds you make echo from the walls as you tense up and shudder. Vibrations from Swansea chuckling between your thighs make you whine as he continues to fuck you through your own release.

Your chest rises and falls with shaky pants as you fall limp onto the cold steel of the bench. With a hazy mind tingling body, you lie there, trying to recollect yourself after your superior just made you cum like that.

Swansea, ever so eager to stay on task, kicks back from the workbench, idly licking his fingers clean.

“Now you better pull yourself together, kid. We gotta job to do, y’hear?”

He tosses your clothes from the floor back at you. You take a few moments to gather yourself, before attempting to straighten things up. Swansea’s left the Utility room now—likely on the way to the bathroom to wash his own hands and start on his next task.

But on reflection, before you can tug your pants back on and get to work, you notice something off.

Your underwear’s gone.

(And somewhere, Swansea’s enjoying his new prize.)

[hoshifighting]

jihoon.... mans....manspreading

https://x.com/aludraexe/status/1843152339479523514?t=L1YDuMAUqxQ61XY4G02cXA&s=19

woozi manspreading 😩🙏

honestly, it makes me want to freak out in concerning ways... woozi is the type to manspread in front of you (like literally looking you in the eyes) and tap his thick thigh three times, asking you to straddle him. like he doesn’t even need words—just that silent order. it’s one of those moments where you feel your pussy throb, not out of nerves, but ‘cause you know you’re about to lose yourself in this. something about the way he spreads his legs like that… it’s like he’s staking his claim, but it’s still subtle as fuck.

and what gets, it’s the look. that look. how he doesn’t blink, doesn’t shy away. just pure, unflinching eye contact. the kind of stare that makes your pulse skip, but you pretend you’re not phased. like, you’ll try to keep your cool, try to act all unbothered. it’s like your body reacts before your brain can even catch up, and by the time he’s patting that thigh, it’s already a done deal. you’re moving without thinking, settling into his lap like that’s the only place you’re supposed to be.

and he knows it. loves it, probably. 'cause his smile? yeah, it’s cocky, but in that subtle way only woozi pulls off. dude radiates dominance without even trying. “mmhm, good girl,” he’ll mutter under his breath. his free hand drifts to your ass, squeezing you like he’s getting a feel for how well you fit against him, how easy it’ll be to make you move. there’s no rush in the way he moves you either; pushing you to grind against him while he leans back. that arm resting behind his head like he’s the most relaxed person in the room, just soaking it in.

and you can feel him hard against you—there’s no hiding that. every little movement pulls a sound from him, one of those needy, breathy moans he never lets anyone else hear. that’s another thing about him. he’s got this control thing going on, but when he’s like this, when he’s got you in his lap and you’re humping him like you’ve got something to prove, he lets go. just enough. his thighs tense when you move, the chest muscles flexing under your palms like he’s restraining himself from doing something reckless. but then, when you get a good rhythm going, it’s like he needs it. like the little moan that slips from his lips is totally out of his control, eyes squeezed shut for a second before he forces them back open. ‘cause he needs to watch you. needs to see the way you look so horny on top of him.

“fuck, you feel good,” he’ll whisper. and that’s what gets you. the fact that he’s vocal with you. rough groans, half-lidded eyes, and that smug little smirk whenever you start losing control yourself.

and then, there’s the smile. that smile when you finally get into it. like, the second you stop pretending like you’ve got it together and just let your body move by its own, he’s grinning. and not just any grin. it’s big, wide, borderline unhinged. like he’s proud of what he’s doing to you, like it’s exactly what he planned. and then, without warning, he moans. loud too. louder than you expected, and it’s this deep, breathy sound that punches right through you. makes your brain short-circuit for a second because you can’t believe he actually let that slip. “shit, don’t stop, yes! yes! like this—fuck!” he mutters, gripping your hips tighter, like if you stopped moving, he’d lose it completely.

and you can’t stop. can’t even think about stopping when he’s like this—legs wide open so his cock is pressing into you directly, his head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut again when you grind down harder. it’s like he’s fucking gone, lost in the feeling, and all you can do is keep going.

[holylulusworld]

Caught Cold - Alternative version

Summary: Something goes wrong on your latest mission.

Ship/Main Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Written for @buckybarnesevents “Hot Bucky Summer” - Week 6 - “I won’t be able to stop myself. + Sex Pollen + Gone feral + Fuck or die

Read the alternative version here: Caught Cold. Please consider, the beginning of the story is the same as its alternative version.

Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, chasing, sex pollen, smut, unprotected sex, mating bites, I’ll label this one dub-con due to sex pollen

A white mist fills the room after you drop one of the vials you found at the old warehouse. You curse yourself, already hearing Bucky nag. He’s not a big fan of you, especially because you are an omega. If you just screwed this mission up, you won’t hear the end of it.

Bucky holds up his right hand. “AGENT Y/L/N, no! What did you do?“ There’s something in his voice you’ve never heard before. Panic, fear, even. “We gotta get out of here.”

He covers his mouth and nose with his gloved hand. “OUT!”

“Out?” You look around the room. Everything was normal a few seconds ago, and now the former Winter Soldier looks like he saw a ghost. “Sergeant, we have our orders. Captain Rogers wants us to secure the information.”

“OUT!” It’s more of a growl than a word. Bucky takes one step toward you, still covering his mouth. “Y/N, stop talking back for once. We need to…”

His whole body suddenly sizes up. The strong and undefeatable super-soldier falls to his knees. He slams his fists into the ground.

“Sergeant?” You step away from him. Bucky is a little broody, grumpy even. But the man kneeling on the ground stares up at you with glowing eyes. “Sergeant Barnes?” Now you panic. He slams his metal fist into the ground. “You’re scaring me.”

“You…” He growls deep and guttural. “You need to run. Go now.” Bucky seems to fight with an invisible force. He rams his fist into the ground to keep himself from getting back up.

“Why?” You are panicking now. “Sergeant? What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“I can smell your pussy,” he snarls in your direction.

“What?” You drop your eyes to your crotch. Can he really smell that his closeness arouses you? You heard that alphas could smell when you are fertile, but can he smell your slick too? "Sergeant, we can’t leave. Why do you want to leave?”

“I won’t be able to stop myself.” Bucky groans loudly as he rams his metal fist into the ground again. “OMEGA!” He purrs low in his throat.

“Oh. God.” You step back, shaking your head, when he gets back on his feet. Bucky cracks his neck and flexes his metal arm. He stares at you like he wants to eat you alive.

“RUN!” It’s the last warning you’ll get. Bucky is close to losing his mind. His alpha is taking over, and there is no rational thought left.

You finally set things into motion and run out of the room. While Bucky growls your name, you try to get in contact with Steve and the rest of the team.

“Captain Rogers, this is an emergency. I think something is wrong with Sergeant Barnes,” you pant while looking over your shoulder. “Can you hear me? Copy?”

All you get is radio silence. Crap. This is the worst time to lose contact with your team.

“OMEGA!” You shriek when you hear Bucky chase after you. Fuck, for a man his size, he’s fucking fast and stealthy. “Come here.”

Like a wild animal, he chases after you, growling your name as you start running again. Your heart thunders in your chest, and your brain goes a mile a minute. You’re torn between following his alpha command and the fear that causes you to run faster.

Until now, you believed that Bucky would never hurt you. But he’s not himself, and you fear he’ll kill you if he gets his hands on you.

He didn’t warn you for nothing.

“Stop running from me.” He’s so close you can smell his sweat. Fuck, how can that fucker run so fast without being out of breath? “OMEGA!”

“Sergeant,” you stumble back. “You need to calm down.” You raise your hands. “I know that I broke the vial, but that’s no reason to kill me!”

“Kill you,” he bares his teeth and chuckles. “I won’t kill you.” You swallow thickly as his eyes drop to your crotch. “I only want to claim what’s rightfully mine.”

Bucky dips his head. He smirks, and you swear, it looks like the fucker is having a blast chasing you around.

“Sergeant,” you giggle. “I’m flattered really, but…uh…this is not the time to think about your knot.” You point at him. “I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

His eyes darkened at your words. “Stop running away from me. Give up. This is your fault for breaking the vial. You released the sex pollen.”

“Sex pollen?” You release a shuddery breath as the realization hits you. Sex pollen. You heard that term before. Doctor Banner mentioned it months ago. “No…this can’t be. It shouldn’t exist any longer.”

Bucky watches you like a hawk. Every move you make gets noticed by him. He’s an apex predator, an alpha, and a super-soldier with higher senses. Outrunning him won’t work out for you.

“Captain Rogers, can you hear me,” you whisper into the void. Your earpiece is useless. White noise is all you hear. “Fuck…”

Bucky smirks darkly when you lick your lips. He looks like a wild wolf with his teeth bared and his eyes glowing. “They want me to mate you, omega.” He sniffs in your direction. “Lucky me, getting such a nice little pussy today.”

“Hah, yeah…you’re very funny.” You show your palms while slowly walking back. One step, after another.

Bucky cannot know that your panties are soaked and that you’d love to have him on top of you. He’s your supervisor and a fucking super-soldier. You’re not sure if you can take him.

What if he breaks your hips? You giggle at the thought, feeling silly. Bucky would never be interested in mating you. Right? Right…

“I told you to run,” he growls now. “I need to mate you.” Bucky curls his shoulders, eyes glued to you. His eyes flick to your face when you move back again.

“Can you not…jerk it out of your body?” You must sound hilarious because Bucky snorts at your comment. “No?” You frown. Bucky tries to fight the toxin; you can see it in his eyes.

“Come. Here,” he spits while talking. “OMEGA!”

You remember Bruce’s words now. Sex pollen was created to make the alphas compliant. A forced rut and an omega in heat were all they needed to control the soldiers. If they refused to mate, the sex pollen would kill them.

“Sergeant,” you slowly take a step back, and another. “I know you believe you must mate me. Believe me, I like me a good fuck but we’re in the middle of a mission.”

He grins darkly. Bucky watches you turn on your heels to go for a sprint. His growls echo through the abandoned building when you run along the corridor.

You don’t stand a chance. The fucker is fucking thick, and beefy but damn him, that man can run. He goes for a sprint, catching up with you in no time.

You feel his breath before he pounces on you. He tackles you to the ground, immediately burying you under his heavy body. “Sergeant,” you snarl feeling his lips nip at your neck. “This is inappropriate.”

Well, no shit. His erection is pressing against your ass, and you can tell, that man is packing. While Bucky tugs at your tactical suit, you wonder if his dick is another perk of being a super-soldier or if he was packing before Hydra got their hands on him.

“Hey, what,” you whimper when Bucky cuts your tactical suit open. He’s done fooling around. He needs to feel your cunt around him. “I liked that suit.”

You groan, and mutter but it’s no use. Bucky rips the remnants of your brand-new suit down your body before you can call him a jerk.

“Omega,” he hums in appreciation while staring at your exposed body. “Mine.” You debate to get up and try to run again. Bucky is much faster than you, he proved it more than once today. Plus, you always had a thing for the grumpy man.

You hate yourself for it, but you lie still and listen to him cursing and growling. Not because you are scared of fighting him, but to save his life. If the test results Doctor Banner told you about are true, Bucky could die if he doesn’t fuck the toxin out of his body.

“Fuck,” he curses behind you. Bucky is on you again, to cover your body with his large, hard one. He ruts against you, hoping to ease the pain in his groin. Bucky presses his aching cock between your legs, moving against your clit. “Mine…only mine.”

If anything, gets even harder feeling your slick cover his length. “Sergeant,” you wiggle your hips. If he forces you to feel his dick, you want to have him inside of you. “Fuck…” You pant heavily.

He’s growling incorrect words in your ear. You don’t understand a thing, only your name and that he wants to breed you.

His skilled hands, made to defeat any enemy, carefully lift your butt to line himself up with your soaked hole. Bucky fully sheaths himself inside your welcome warmth with one hard thrust. He whines into your neck, ready to pop his knot anytime.

Mine. Mine. Mine. He chants in his mind while slowly starting to rock into you. Bucky never felt so welcome inside a body.

His powerful thrusts make you groan. He’s mounting you like you’re some animal, but your body greedily welcomes him.

Bucky grips your hips, holding you pinned to the ground. “Mine.” His movement becomes erratic when you start to whimper his name. He doesn’t stop. Bucky plunges into you, with only one thought left; to breed and claim you and your body. “Mine…”

“Fuck… Sergeant…” you wiggle your hips, unable to meet his thrust. “I’m gonna…” Shit… fuck… it’s too late. Your cunt grips him tightly, forcing his knot to expand. Bucky sinks his teeth in your neck the moment his release fills you.

“Shit…” Bucky won’t let go of your neck. He grunts against you, feeling his knot lock you together. “What did you do?”

“I,” he finally releases your neck to stare at your now-marked mating gland. He releases an inhuman noise before rutting into you a few more times. “Mine…”

You’re too exhausted to argue. His body still presses you to the ground, and his knot won’t deflate for some time. Lying still you close your eyes and allow yourself to rest for a moment. It’s all too much.

Bucky moves his arms around your body and buries his face in your neck. He nuzzles you while feeling the fog clouding his mind slowly start to fade away.

“Y/N! BUCK!” You stiffen underneath Bucky when you recognize Steve’s voice. “BUCK!”

“Capsicle, can you slow down?” Tony whistles the moment his eyes land on Bucky’s naked ass. He snickers and decides to snap a few pictures. “Buckethead, that’s not how we train our rookies,” Tony tsks.

“Tony,” Steve grunts. He looks anywhere but at his friend and you buried under the heavy alpha. “Can you just not.”

“I told you it’s an emergency,” you mutter from under Bucky. “You didn’t listen.”

“What happened?” Steve tries to find out what happened while Tony snickers behind his back. “Tony, just stop it.” He angrily raises his fist.

“Sex pollen,” Bucky slurs. “She dropped sex pollen.” He huffs into your neck. “I had to breed her.”

“Yeah, can you not tell anyone about our little breeding escapade, Sergeant,” you grumble. It’s worse enough that Captain America and Tony walked in on you.

“Steve, some privacy please,” Bucky wraps his arms tighter around your body to roll to his side to take his weight off of you.

Steve gives Tony a stern look. He huffs and jerks his head toward the entrance. “Let’s give them some time. Sex pollen is the worst…”

Tony furrows his brows. “How do you know, Capsicle?” He follows Steve outside the building. “Did you…you know…experience it too.”

While Steve and Tony fight over his phone and the pictures he took of Bucky’s naked ass, Bucky nuzzles you and murmurs your name.

He worriedly looks at you in his arms, sighing deeply. “Are you cold? I can’t move but I can roll on my back. I’m sorry about…uh…everything.”

“I don’t want Tony to see my naked ass…” You both start laughing at that. There’s a lot to talk about, especially the fact that Bucky claimed you…”

Tags in reblog.

[aceecee]

Insaitable - Chapter Two

TW for this chapter: descriptions of injuries obtained from torture, human experimentation, starvation, reader's suffering from everything cause author thought it would be interesting to have a character whose body remembers all the things it's healed, blood mention, brief description of body image, short chapter (I'm sorry)

WC: 2K

Masterlist

Sylus was the fourth one to meet you.

He was the first to see the potential in you.

After all he has done for you, you still want to leave? If he has to fuck a baby in you to make you stay, he will.

The little bird was still asleep.

It had been three days since he rushed her to a trusted doctor who had not believed she could be saved, in fact he thought she was already dead. Sylus doesn’t blame him, he had thought the same but he still put a gun to his head and forced him to operate. 

The doctor, who had been convinced you were a lost cause, nearly dropped dead himself when he saw your chest move. It was impossible. You were still breathing. He was paid to be discreet but he couldn’t help the questions that came out, none of which the tall man in the room could answer. A fact he was already pissed about.

He can’t explain the anger that still courses inside him as he looks over her body, he’s never met her before even in all the centuries he’s lived. He can’t explain why he saved her, her body had been so frail in his arms, all he felt were her bones. Just a little pressure and she would snap in half. 

Something about her pulled him even now in her rest. His hand reaches out to caress her cheek and his finger lingers just above her skin. He remembers how it felt right to hold her in his arms. In shame, he pulls his hand back and shoves it deep into his pocket. The other hand follows, just in case. 

He prides himself in his ability to be unshaken but the woman before him has challenged his resolve every moment they’ve had together and she’s been asleep for all of them.

His gaze moved down to her neck, the injury had been too deep so it had to be stapled shut. When the wound starts closing up, they will be removed. Good. It was a barbaric sight. She didn’t deserve this. 

Maybe he’d be a little relaxed if that was all she had suffered from but the list seemed to never end as the doctor examined her. Her cranium was dented, her brain showed signs of extreme damage, her lungs were infected, her trachea looked like it was crushed over and over again, she kept experiencing arrhythmias so the doctor never left her side and her kidneys were damaged, due to lack of oxygen the doctor had theorised. 

She had endured intense electric shock, evidenced by the marks on her body. She had nerve damage and in these three days, she had developed cataracts. 

Her body had been bent, twisted and shattered and yet she still prevailed.

The two of them could not understand how she was still functioning when her physical form had given up. 

He had accepted that any answers would have to come from her. 

Unfortunately, time does not wait for anyone and he had many things to get done. He leaves the room, albeit reluctantly. 

He’s back by her side.

A week has now passed and she hasn’t moved an inch. 

There’s a feeding tube hooked into her stomach and an IV in her hand. They have to start small with the nutrients, too much too fast will be detrimental. Each day she looks a little better but it’ll take months, maybe even years for her body to go back to normal. He wonders what normal is for her.

Any free time is spent in her company. He finds himself reading while sitting in the room with her or he’ll bring his work with him. His constant disappearances are being noticed but he cannot find it in himself to particularly care. 

His eyes often find themselves looking upon her, the rise and fall of her chest is what he seeks. He can’t bring himself to touch her, no matter how much he shockingly wants to. She feels like an otherworldly being, too high for him to reach. She feels wrong.

But when has he ever cared about such things?

It’s clear the starvation has stunted her growth.

The air in the room thickens. People were being taken. Children. 

They were all going through this.

He gets up from his chair and leaves without a word. 

You’re convinced that this is all a dream.

You had expected the four familiar yellow walls to be the sight when you awoke. Not this makeshift hospital room before you. It took a while for your eyes to focus, you had to get accustomed to the headache. 

“Subject awake. Alerting staff on call.”

Ugh the technical voice of the robot did not help with the ache.

Its words barely register in your mind. Every little bit of focus you had was on trying to move. You take a deep breath and count the facts in your head.

Your entire body fucking hurts. 

There’s needles stuck in you everywhere. Okay, no ignore that. Needles bring up bad memories and you cannot freak out right now.

You had not imagined those red eyes.

And that someone must have brought you here. Wherever here was.

It’s not helping. You can’t get it in control. Your mind isn’t cooperating. The room you’re in isn’t helping. Everything in it fucking reminds you of that place. Your thoughts escalate.

You’re back there again.

You haven’t escaped.

They’ll put you back in the cage. 

The doctor had been shocked when an alert was dispatched on his watch, letting him know the girl was awake. Abandoning his lunch, he ran towards the room she was in. He opens the door with a bang. The girl was definitely awake, there was no doubt as she was sitting up on the bed, clutching her head in pain. 

He’s a doctor. A doctor who doesn’t exactly live in the best area. He’s done horrible things and worked for even more horrific people. He learnt a long time ago to not get attached and to not intervene. His pledge as a doctor means nothing here. But even he can’t help but be concerned for the girl in front of him.

“Miss…?” he attempted to call out. No response. 

He moved carefully towards her and gently reached out to touch her shoulder.

A hand on you is what snaps you out. You move your head towards the source. It’s a man. He’s old, wrinkles on his face and greying black hair. Your eyes move over him and rest on his white coat. 

A doctor.

Doctor…?

Dr Evans.

As the girl keeps eye contact with him, her face morphs. First it’s confusion. Then, there’s fear. It’s quickly combined with anger. He removes his hand from her, putting them up to show there’s nothing to fear while also taking a couple steps back. Something about her scares him. He’s in danger. His mouth moves on its own as he attempts to soothe her. It doesn’t work. 

You want him to die. He’s just another one. Another cog in the machine, easily replaced but you don’t care. He deserves to die. For all he’s done to you. You refuse to be the only one left shattered.

He hunches over in pain. Something sharp is inside him, it’s moving through his body trying to get out. He brings his hand to his mouth with a cough, when he removes it there’s blood on his palm. She’s going to kill him. 

There’s a warm hand around your wrist, when your mind catches up to your body you find yourself staring into those red eyes. You know him.

“I’d rather you not kill my doctor. He’s been working hard these last couple of days to heal you,” the voice belonging to the warm hand says. It allows you to close your eyes and breathe. It’s familiar and you find comfort in that. But then you become all too aware of the hand still on you and your eyes snap open and you rip your arm away. If it affects him, he doesn't show it. You don’t have it in you to be nice, the thought of being touched by anyone fills you with dread. Besides if he had been rough with even her upon their first meeting, who knows what his real reason for rescuing you even was? Had you left one prison just to enter another?

Just like the doctor, he takes a step away from you. Something in his eyes glints when you sag in relief. 

You’re all too aware of the eyes on you. It’s silent but then he breaks it.

“We’re leaving,” he turns to the doctor and ushers him out the door. “Get yourself together and knock on the door when you’re ready to talk,” he stares at you for a little while with his hand on the doorknob, half out the door. You hold his gaze, his lips quirk and he’s gone with the door closed behind him. 

Your mind is clear now. You push the blanket off you and you don’t even blink as you rip the needles out of you. Blood pours out but you feel nothing. It’ll heal on its own anyways. Your bare feet touch the cold marble floor. It’s welcomed. 

You use the bed to assist you, and slowly make your way towards the mirror in the room. It takes time, your legs are weak from days of unuse and starvation. You haven’t had access to a mirror all these years you’ve been taken. Not even a reflective surface. 

The girl that stares back at you looks pathetic. Disgust fills you as you stare into her eyes. You used to be something to be admired. She’s just bones, you have no idea how you can even stand. Your hair used to be your everything. You took pride in caring for it, the shine is gone. It’s grown in these years but the thickness of it is nowhere to be seen. Somehow this hurts more than the beatings you’ve endured. The spark that you had earned in this life is gone too. Your eyes look devoid of any emotions, the softness in your face she used to adore has disappeared. 

You find yourself slipping into those decrepitating thoughts. Would they be disgusted at you as well? Perhaps it's good that you’ve been labelled as dead. 

Your eyes drift over to your neck and your hand caresses the bandaged wound. You carefully unwind the bandages. The wound is deep, no shock there but it’s much better than before. It’s been closed up with stitches and in a couple of days, it’ll be healed enough for them to be removed. 

Despite your earlier breakdown, you’re numb when not a single sound escapes your mouth as you try to scream.

The silence has him on edge.

When he left her there, he expected screaming or the sound of things breaking as she processed her predicament.

It doesn’t feel real to see her awake. She had looked like a cornered animal, too busy focusing on killing the doctor to even notice him sneak up on her. She was powerful. Whatever she had tried to do to the doctor had left the man with internal bleeding. He was currently resting. She was a threat and yet he has no answer as to why he hadn’t put her down. That was the way he did his business, it didn’t matter how helpful someone or something could be, if it threatened his life, he would dispose of it. Yet the thought to even activate his evol or have a gun on him had never crossed his mind. He sighs, lifting a hand to his head. She’s barely been awake for an hour and she’s already causing so many problems. 

Her eyes had a hold on him. It was…profitable that she still had a fight in her. Yes. Profitable. She could be useful in other ways than just the information she held. He was a businessman after all. He’d mould her into his image, she could pay him back by becoming his tool. 

He found himself standing right by the door of the room she was in, leaning against the wall with arms crossed. 

A knock snaps him out of his thoughts. 

AN: Ugh I had no inspiration for this chapter, I rewrote it like five times but I hate it. That's why it's so short. Next chapter should be longer cause the twins will get introduced and I adore them. What sort of bond should reader have with them?

[atzloverr]

Yandere alphabet - San

tw: yandere behavior, smut, kidnapping, bondage, jealousy, mentions of murder, manipulation

pairings: yandere!San x reader

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

He’ll hug you until you feel like you’re suffocating, cuddle you even when it’s so hot that you feel like you can’t breathe, all to show you just how much he loves you. He nuzzles into your neck, kisses you all over your face and almost purrs when he feels your warmth against him. The nights are his favorite, when he gets an excuse to snuggle up with you, forcing you to lie down on top of him. That’s when he’ll show his love the most, no matter if you’re tied up on the basement floor, or in his warm bed with him.

He’s like a clingy kitten, constantly on you, or beneath you. He wants to spend every waking moment with you, if not next to you, on top of you, maybe even inside of you. ”I love you so much,” he smiles. He’s on top of you, his head resting on your chest. You can feel yourself trembling slightly, thinking about the fact that San’s shirt had bloodstains on it. You didn’t even want to know how those ended up there, and you were too scared to ask.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He wouldn’t really get messy with you so to say, as in, he won’t cut you up, he won’t play with your blood or be rough with you. That, he can do with the people who hurt you, your former friends who didn’t treat you right, that guy who made you uncomfortable at the club.

The only time he’ll be messy or rough with you, is of course when he’s pleasuring you. He knows you love the way he sloppily eats you out, or fucks you at an unbelievable pace. Because even if you try to tell him that you don’t want him like that anymore, he knows your body won’t lie to him. He sees the way you squirm, the way your hips buck, the way your legs shake, how your eyes roll back. ”You can try to hide it from me baby,” he says as his fingers slowly plunge into you. ”But I know exactly what you like.”

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He will mock you, but just because of how cute you are in his eyes. Seeing you so confused and wide-eyed, he can’t help but giggle at you. When you start crying and screaming at him, he’ll apologize for laughing, wiping your cute little tears with a pout on his face.

”Aww, baby don’t cry,” San’s hands rub your shoulders as he coos. ”How could you!?” you scream at him, trying to shake his hands from you. Although, it’s basically impossible with the rope around your body. San just sighs as you shake and sob. He would usually hate this sight, so why does he find this so amusing? Why can’t he help but smile when you sniffle aggressively? ”My baby,” he giggles, letting his hands caress your face. ”I could tell you to stop crying, but honestly—” San laughs. ”You’re so adorable when you’re like this.”

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling's will?

The things he will do against your will are the things that he believes are genuinely good for you. Force feeding you, cleaning you and making you cuddle with him and sleep in his arms.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He’s absolutely vulnerable, never having the heart to hide his undying love and affection for you. He cries, he tells you his worries, he makes you feel like his therapist sometimes, with how he vents to you. No matter if you’re not ready to show vulnerability any time soon, San has no problem with showing himself like that. He tells you how worried he is that you’ll leave him someday, how long he’s been in love with you and how he’ll kill anyone who hurts you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would find you absolutely adorable when you try to push him, or when you even think that you could ever take him in a fight. Even though he knows you have no chance, he sure loves to see you try. After a while, he will get tired of it though. If you’re still reluctant after what he considers a long time, he’ll warn you. You can’t run away from him forever.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

He does see it as a game in the beginning, but once a certain amount of time has passed, he’ll remind himself and you of the true goal, which is making you fall in love with him, and spending the rest of your lives together. If you still try to escape after months, San will only get hurt, and disappointed that you still don’t want to stay with him.

Hell: What would be their darling's worst experience with them?

Probably those nights when he makes you hate yourself for hating him. It’s weird in a way, that he’s able to make you feel so bad for disliking such a horrible person. But that’s one of the things he’s best at, making you want to love him. You realize how much easier your life would be if you just gave in and loved him back, because that part of you that fell for him was indeed still in there. But even having that thought could make you doubt your entire existence.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He’s thinking marriage, kids, growing old together, that kind of life. He can’t see himself with anyone but you, living a life without you in it. He wants to experience all kinds of things, the ups and downs of life, he wants the fights, he wants the tender moments, however long it’ll take.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

San hates to even think about you with anyone other than him. You see it on his pout that he wears daily. If you even mention someone other than him, someone who did something that you liked, or someone who you used to know, San’ll immediately start whining, begging you to talk about something else. He won’t lash out often due to his jealousy, it’ll just make him more affectionate towards you, in a way that might feel suffocating. Tighter hugs, showering you in kisses and refusing to let you leave his arms.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

As you probably understand at this point, he’s extremely affectionate. He’s touchy, invading your space, getting moody if you deny his affections. He’s almost like a big cat at times, nuzzling into you or even just laying on top of you to keep you close.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He spared no time after he had first been introduced to you, suddenly walking up to you one day and using his gorgeous good looks and charming personality to seduce you. He made sure to find out exactly what you were into, when you were the most available and how he would approach you without risking scaring you off. And when that day finally arrived and he approached you at the coffee shop, he could see in your eyes that you were going to fall for him.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

San really is a sweetheart, who just happens to love a bit too hard for it to be considered normal. He still has friends, and they all know how sweet he is, but once you entered his life, he was ready to let all of that go in order to keep you. The one thing that’s different from how he is around others, is when he gets scary. When his eyes grow wide, his smile makes you fear for your life and his grip around you is so tight it leaves bruises.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He’ll almost be like a parent disciplining his child in a way, making you admit your mistakes and hurting you lightly when you refuse. He won’t be very rough on you, even if you’ve done something that he considers horrible. Instead, he’ll just become cold, sad and make you almost feel bad for him as he cries and asks what he did to deserve this. He’ll stop kissing you, stop hugging you and most importantly, force you to sleep alone in the basement, tied up and with no distractions.

Once the punishment is over, he’ll hug you desperately, crying and complaining about how hard it was to leave you like that, how much he hated doing that to you. At this point, you’ll feel bad for him, his manipulation having gotten into your head.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

To start, he’ll take almost everything away. He doesn’t believe that the outside world is safe enough for you, and won’t risk you getting drawn to it - therefore taking your phone. He promises you he’ll let you walk freely on your own once you love him too, but even if you did, you’d probably be too manipulated by him at that point, not even wanting to go outside anymore.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He’s very patient with you, understanding that this new lifestyle will be hard for you to adjust to, so he’ll let you scream, let you try to escape from him, because he knows that the alternative isn’t anything he’d dream of. His worst nightmare is you genuinely hating him, so he’d hate to fuel those feelings of hatred that he knows exist deep inside of you.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you ever managed to escape, San would make sure to find you, one way or another. He’ll be walking around, sobbing for days, looking anywhere and everywhere for any traces of you. He’ll be so heartbroken that you left him, but he tries his best to ignore his feelings, and focus on the matter at hand.

If - or when - he finds you, he’ll take you home immediately, and this time he won’t go easy on you. He’ll only show his emotions once he’s got you tied up, finally safe in the basement again. After that, he’ll sob into your arms, telling you how hard it was to live without you, how scared he was for your life and how he’ll never let you leave his sight ever again.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Letting you go isn’t an option. He’ll eventually give you more freedom, but only if he knows you love him back and that you won’t escape. But he might feel guilty. Hearing you sob, begging him to let you go, it hurts him. He hates watching you like that, seeing that rage in your eyes and hearing you scream and cry. ”Please stop,” he says as he wipes your tears off your trembling face. ”Stop crying baby.”

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

He had never known this side of him existed before he met you. He knew he was sometimes possessive over his friends in a weird way, but he had never felt it this strongly before. It might just be the fear of being left alone, the fear of not being loved, of not having anyone to love, it’s what haunts him at night.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He hates seeing you cry most of the time (unless it’s out of pleasure) and he always has to look away when he sees those droplets of water fall from your beautiful eyes, especially when you sound and look so genuinely hurt. He can find it cute at times, when you’re throwing a little tantrum, but when it’s intense and clear that it’s all his fault. It’s better when he can comfort you, wipe your tears and make you calm down, but when he punishes you and can’t make you feel better, he’ll simply leave the room and cry on his own.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Some ”classic” yanderes will kill their love, but San couldn’t even imagine such a thing. He would die for you, he would kill for you, but he would never let you die.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

You can exploit his will for you to love him, his belief that you will love him one day. Manipulating him isn’t an easy task, but it’s not impossible. You’d have to show him that affection he’s been craving, but not do too much at once. And maybe, just maybe he’ll give you just as much freedom you need in order to escape.

Wit's end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Yes, of course he would hurt you emotionally, tearing you down and building you up to make you love him. He’s the type who’ll make you believe that he would never hurt you, but he truly does, every single day. It might not seem like him, but the rope burns, the bruises from you trying to break out of your room and the headaches from not getting enough sleep, isn’t that technically him hurting you?

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Oh he worships you in every way you could think of. He’ll get on his knees, kiss up your body and look up at you with that look of pure adoration. Who doesn’t like getting this much love and attention? He thinks, as he gently touches your skin, telling you just how beautiful you are in his eyes.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

It doesn’t take very long for him. He can’t hold back his undying love for you, and he’ll only wait as long as absolutely necessary.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

He fell in love with you, not a you that’s broken. He wants to make sure you keep those wonderful traits of yours, and if he ever sees you change your ways, he’ll make sure to do whatever it takes to get you back.

masterlist

@mortal-advocate I’m sorry it took me such a long time to finish this.. I’ve tried to focus on other things, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!! 🩷

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | teaser (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: alcohol consumption, curses

☆word count: 1.1k

☆a/n: teaser time babyyyy!! I hope you guys love it :') thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

The hour is late. Jungkook is tipsy, far more than he thought he’d get tonight, but then again, Taehyung is not in a better state, and Sera, Jimin’s girlfriend, had to force him to go home before they got too drunk.

They’re all supposed to help Taehyung’s little sister move in tomorrow, Jungkook included.

“Man,” Taehyung lets out, and Jungkook looks away from the game of Smash they’re playing - that he’s majestically losing - to focus on Taehyung.

“What?” he lets out.

“Can’t believe Y/n will be here tomorrow,” Taehyung answers.

“Can’t believe you’re forcing me to live with a girl.”

Taehyung chuckles. “Don’t worry, Y/n is chill.”

Jungkook doesn’t doubt she is, considering how well he gets along with Taehyung, and Taehyung’s made it seem that he gets along well with his sister. He imagines Y/n’s just going to be a mini Taehyung, which frankly could be fun to have around.

But he doesn’t know anything about her other than the fact that she is Taehyung’s little sister.

“You know,” Taehyung adds as the game finishes. “I meant to tell you something.”

Jungkook cocks his pierced eyebrow in question. “Yeah?”

“Just wanted to say that if you touch my sister, you’re fucking dead.”

Jungkook bursts out laughing, shaking his head, but Taehyung remains entirely serious. Like he meant what he just said - could he?

“You’re joking right?” Jungkook asks as his laughter fades away.

“No, I’m dead ass,” Taehyung insists. “You breathe in her direction, and you’re dead.”

“Damn.” Jungkook widens his gaze, and then picks up the beer he’s been slowly drinking since Jimin left. “Understood.”

Hell, Jungkook knows that he sleeps around. Taehyung does the same - he can’t help but understand Taehyung when he says to stay away from his sister. And he thinks it’ll be easy. Y/n’s probably just going to be a clueless baby college kid, and though Jungkook doesn’t mind going for younger, he’ll have plenty of new faces to explore once Frosh week starts next week anyways.

So he promises Taehyung he has nothing to worry about, and they play a couple more games before they head to bed.

Jungkook wakes up early the next morning, the sun shining right in his face the most efficient alarm he’s ever used before. He wants to go to the gym before helping Taehyung’s sister, and though he hates being awake so early, he immediately forces himself to get up lest he falls back asleep.

His workout goes well, and he’s pleasantly sore when he heads back home. He’s lucky - he manages to park not too far from the apartment. He’s walking home, gym bag in one hand and his phone in the other, when Taehyung texts him to ask where he is.

Jungkook types ‘Fuck off’, pressing send as his attention is solely on his phone.

Until said phone flies out of his hand as he collides with a girl he didn’t notice, and Jungkook watches in horror as the device falls in a flower bed.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you say, and you immediately dive into the flower bed, retrieving Jungkook’s phone. 

You hand it to him, and Jungkook just stares at you, mouth agape. He’s aware he’s staring and that he probably looks stupid, but he’s dumbfounded.

You’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot.

“Don’t worry about it,” he answers quickly when you cock an eyebrow, your cheeks slowly turning red. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“At least it didn’t break,” you say, and you flash him a quick smile.

It does things to his heart that Jungkook barely comprehends - it’s like his heart is going miles a minute, yet it’s soothing, warm, much like the pavement feels in the summer when the sun has just dipped below the horizon.

“Right, yeah,” Jungkook answers, and his cheeks burn.

His cheeks fucking burn, and he wishes he could just disappear, dive below the ground until you can’t see him anymore. You just keep on smiling, eyes never disconnecting from his, and he wonders if you, too, feel like he does.

Shit, he thinks he might even hear bells in the distance.

You glance away, and it’s like he’s falling forward while not moving at all, and all he can do is pathetically clear his throat, as if that’s going to offer any help.

“I see you’ve met Y/n!” Taehyung yells from behind you, and Jungkook freezes.

Jungkook freezes, and then something burns in his lungs, like he’s under the surface struggling for futile oxygen he knows he won’t find.

You are… Taehyung’s sister.

You’re Y/n.

His best friend’s little sister.

The one thing Jungkook can’t have.

It makes him feel cold, his heart suddenly dropping in the Arctic sea amongst the icebergs. 

“We literally ran into each other,” you say, looking back towards your brother.

And Jungkook sees it - your hair is the same shade as Taehyung’s, your face has the same shape. The smile though - your smile is different from Taehyung’s, and maybe that’s why he was fooled.

Fooled for a few seconds which felt like an eternity.

You walk away then, heading to the open back door of a car. You grab a box, and Jungkook puts his phone in his pocket, eyeing a bag on the backseat.

“Do you want me to bring this in?” he asks.

Only because he wants you to look at him again. His heart flutters in his chest when you do, and he forces it down with a swallow as you nod once.

“Yes, please!”

Jungkook nods too, and he grabs the bag before following you in. His right foot lands on the first step leading to the apartment when Taehyung stops him with a hand on his arm.

Jungkook frowns slightly, meeting his best friend’s gaze.

“I’m serious, JK,” Taehyung says through gritted teeth. “You fucking touch her, you’re dead.”

And Jungkook knows right then and there that he’s fucked. Entirely, thoroughly, immensely fucked.

Because he already wants you, and he hasn’t even talked to you for more than twenty seconds.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures Taehyung, and he hopes Taehyung can’t hear how fake he sounds.

How is he supposed to resist indulging in you when he already knows you’re all he’s ever wanted? 

He really is entirely, thoroughly, immensely fucked.

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Read chapter one here!

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[reverie-starlight]

happy valentine's day!! please be kind to me. this is my first time writing for baji, so I'm still figuring out characterization!! sorry if he's a bit ooc :'). not edited.

fem!reader, no physical descriptions. reader has a dog, baji is down bad and sucks at flirting, you find it endearing. this got kind of long. fluff, first dates. TR MANGA ENDING SPOILERS!!!

the front door swings open, and a little bell (part of a defective cat toy that they couldn’t sell- kazutora’s idea) signals that a new customer has walked in.

baji almost can’t believe his eyes when he looks up from his textbook. he barely has enough time to compose himself before you glance at him, but he manages, and gives you a quick smile and a nod. he’s worried that if he speaks, he’ll stumble over his words and make a fool out of himself.

you’re gorgeous.

absolutely stunning, actually, and he can’t picture this interaction going very well for him if past experiences are anything to go by.

you’ve been in here before, he’s exchanged a few words with you when he’s had to ring you up, but that’s about it. even then, he had stumbled through grabbing your change from the register and wishing you a nice day.

usually chifuyu or kazutora are the ones to help you find what you need, but one of them is on lunch and the other isn’t scheduled to come in until later.

he silently curses them both for leaving him alone now of all times, but he knows his frustration is misplaced.

he’s just nervous because you’re here, and you look like that, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to get through this without revealing his massive crush on you.

maybe him working alone right now is a blessing in disguise- he doesn’t have to deal with his friends’ teasing about his new ‘girlfriend’.

he doesn’t even know your name, but he’d sure as hell like to.

he lets you look around for a minute while he gathers up the courage to ask you if you need help finding anything.

when you go down aisle four, he takes in a deep breath and mentally hypes himself up.

c’mon keisuke, this is pathetic. you used to fight off loads of guys at once, you can talk to the pretty girl.

as soon as he breaks out of his thoughts and moves to find you, he blinks once and you’re suddenly right in front of him.

he thinks he'd actually rather be back in a ten versus one right about now.

“hi,” you say, sporting a sheepish grin. “could you help me find the leashes and collars?”

his mind goes blank and he's unable to form any words, letting the silence linger long enough for it to deemed incredibly uncomfortable.

“uh…” you adjust your grip on the strap of your bag apprehensively. “I checked aisle four, ‘cause that’s where they usually are, but I couldn’t find them…” you shift on your feet, clearly not sure how to take his reaction to your question.

this snaps him out of it immediately and he nods. “right, we’re movin' stuff around to make room for some new inventory,” he finally responds.

your smile is bright and reassuring, like you somehow know he’s having a tough time forming full sentences. “oh, well that explains it!”

he swallows the last of his nerves and nods, finding himself smiling with you. “yeah,” he regains use of his body and leads you down aisle seven. “the leashes and collars should be down here now… what kind were ya looking for?”

“anything fit for medium dogs. adjustable, so she can grow into it.”

he nods again, checking the different styles and brands, thinking for a moment. “hmm… what breed?”

“a husky,” you reply, and he likes the way your eyes shine with excitement. “so something that’s good for dogs that pull, ideally.”

he hums and forces himself to break eye contact so that he doesn’t lose track of what he’s doing. "a puppy?"

"yeah, finally old enough to start taking her on walks but she's already a handful."

“cute," he chuckles. "if you’re trying to limit pulling, why don’t you try the gentle leader instead of a heavy duty collar?”

you tilt your head and he worries for a second that you’ll be able to hear his heart pounding against his chest with the brief silence. “I think I’ve heard of that, but how does it work?”

“it’s meant to go around their snout and tug on them when they get ahead of themselves. it doesn't hurt 'em though, just turns their head to the side."

you hum and he almost spaces out again watching you inspect the box he hands you. he thinks he'd very much like to have you pay that much attention to him one day.

then you smile up at him and say "alright, I'll take it!"

"great, I'll check you out- wait not like that, I mean ring you up-" his face burns as he stumbles over his words and you giggle a bit, following him back over to the cash register.

"thanks for your help... baji," you say, leaning over a bit to read his nametag and hand him some cash.

"no problem," he puts your items in the bag, wondering if he should finally ask for your name too.

then something interesting happens.

he watches as you fiddle with your bags, seemingly taking your time getting your things together. your eyes flicker up to meet his briefly and his heart does something funny in his chest as he allows himself to hope he's picking up the right vibe from you.

finally you seem to come to a conclusion and shake your head slightly and smile at him once more before finally leaving with a murmured, "see ya."

the hope deflates as the bell rings and you walk out of XJ Land. next time, keisuke, he thinks to himself, and opens up his abandoned animal science textbook now that the shop is empty again.

a few minutes later, chifuyu comes back from his break and nods at baji, holding up a bag of takeout. "I got us some lunch from that place down the-"

the bell rings one more time and chifuyu jumps out of the way to avoid being knocked out by the door you flung open.

baji raises an eyebrow, his heart doing something funny in his chest as you march up to him, a determined look on your face.

"hey... would you like to go out with me sometime?"

one week later you're sitting on the floor of your room trying to figure out what on earth to wear for your date with baji keisuke (you learned his full name when he put his number in your phone and set up his contact info).

after you had barged back into the pet shop and slammed your palms on the counter to ask him out, you've texted a fair bit back and forth trying to figure out a good day for both of you.

during your conversations, you learned that aside from working at XJ Land, he's also studying to become a vet and that's why he usually has a textbook with him in the shop. he's funny, very thoughtful as well, which is a nice surprise. you've had your eye on him for a while. every time you'd go into the shop to grab something, you'd do everything you could to talk to him, but someone else always managed to help you out before you had a chance.

so when you walked by that day and noticed he was working alone? you knew you had to make your move (...even if it took you a minute to build up the courage to do so).

he even offered to plan the date and pick you up, which you agreed to right away once you had set a date (friday- today), but left you with no hints on how to dress.

something keeps drawing you to him- you're not sure if it's his hair or the set of fangs that poke through when he smiles, but you're certain that you can't just let him pass by you and stay curious forever.

you finally land on an outfit that you believe would work for any occasion and spend whatever time you had left dealing with the finishing touches before you hear a knock on your door.

right on time.

you open up to see your date holding flowers and sporting a warm smile.

"hi," he greets you, holding out the bouquet. the tag attatched to it has your name scrawled in slightly messy handwriting, but it's legible all the same. his handwriting, perhaps?

"these are beautiful," you say, taking them and admiring them. you hold the door open a bit wider and welcome him in. "I'm just going to put these in some water before we go."

he nods and shuts the door behind him as you walk to the kitchen to find some sort of makeshift vase to put the bouquet into. you hear your dog rustle around in her crate and shush her a little, trying to soothe her. "it's okay, I'll be back in a few hours."

once you're done with the flowers and you've slipped the puppy a treat through the bars, you head back out to the front entrance and smile at him. "you look very nice, by the way," you say, admiring his black leather jacket and button down shirt.

it seems like you dressed appropriately after all.

"thanks," he says, "you um. you definitely outshine me," his delivery is a bit awkward and he looks like he regrets it as soon as he closes his mouth.

you giggle and put your coat on. "thank you, baji."

"uh, I haven't seen your dog around, I remember ya mentioned she's still a puppy... will she be okay?" he asks as you lock your door and start heading towards the elevator.

your heart warms at the thought of him remembering that. "that's sweet of you to ask. she's still too young to be left alone for more than an hour, but my friend is stopping by later to spend time with her while I'm gone."

you make casual conversation about how his most recent exam went among other things until you make it outside. you let him lead the way to his ride and come to a stop in front of his... motorcycle?

"you ride a motorcycle?" you ask, in awe of the way he pulls out a helmet and hands it to you.

"mhm, I've been ridin' since I was a teenager. you're in good hands, don't worry."

like you were in doubt.

"have you ever ridden before?" he tilts his head and helps you onto the back of the bike.

"no, but I've always wanted to."

he grins and you can't help but smile back when his fangs pop out again. he helps you fasten the helmet and then gets settled, starting up the bike. "hold on to me, we don't want ya falling off."

so you do, letting yourself get impossibly close to him as you ride off into the night, both secretly hoping that this will be the start of something incredible.

had to cut it off kinda abruptly, but hope you enjoyed!! trust that there will be a lottt more baji in the coming months, I adore him :(( this feels a bit choppy, even to me, but I'll get better at writing him, I swear.

thank you @softshuji for helping me out with some of the finer details, I so so soooo appreciate it !!! <3

@emmyrosee hehe here it issss

[takumiraine]

Once upon a time chapter 10

<first> <prev> <next>

Danny slept more soundly in these two little cat naps with Sam and Tucker (and Jason) present than he had in the last couple of years. Really since the ghost shit started. His first awareness was Tucker saying “no dude, seriously, watch.” Right before Danny remembered to breathe.

“Freaky…” he heard Jason mutter.

Danny opened his eyes. “Technically dead, remember?” He yawned, stretching in a way that he had been told most people couldn’t move in.

“It’s still kinda weird man,” Tucker said without a hint of remorse, even as Danny swatted him. “But your food’s done.” That drew Danny’s full attention. He sat up, taking the plate that had been offered to him. Carefully, Danny blew on the rolls, before popping one into his mouth.

“P’f’ct” he mumbled through his bite.

Sam shook her head. “So is your big bat friend aware that we’re coming too, as Danny’s backup?”

“Yeah. I told him. He’s not thrilled but what can he really do. He feels guilty that he missed a chance to help adoption bait.”

“So he doesn’t think I’m going to go villain on you?” Jason shrugged.

“You had plenty of time and motivation to do so to me.”

Tucker’s PDA beeped. He looked down at it. Looked up at Jason. Looked back at it. Showed the results to Sam and Danny. “Does that mean…?” Danny looked back up at Jason.

“Dude. Is your fucking dad Batman?” Danny asked.

“How….?” Jason didn’t have a good answer to that because if he said no, then in like an hour max, Danny would learn of another lie, but if he said yes, it felt like some sort of weird betrayal against B. “What makes you think that?”

“Because Tucker needed to isolate the crack you guys made into the GIW before he could make sure they haven’t done anything about it and… I’m pretty sure the main location came from right where your house is. So it’s either your dad or your butler.”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please be surprised when he tells you. And please let me be the one to tell the Replacement that some random guy followed his hacking trail on a goddamn PDA, and was able to deduce Batman’s identity from it. He’s gonna froth at the mouth and I need to be the one to cause that.”

“Who’s the Replacement?” Sam asked.

“The kid that became Robin after me. He and Oracle led the break in to that site.” Danny crunched another couple pizza rolls, while Tucker looked triumphant.

“Watch, they’re like a big creepy family of crime fighting rich people.” Danny nudged his friends between bites. Jason forced himself to laugh along.

“You might never know. B said he was the only one he was going to out tonight.” Jason hedged, trying to play up the mysterious vibe.

The trio shared a look as Danny finished off the rest of his pizza rolls. “Right. Anyways. You’re not going to like blindfold us right? We can just go in like normal people? Or is he going to come to us?”

“He’ll send a car when we’re ready. No blindfolds.”

“Good because I’m not doing kinky stuff with someone I haven’t even kissed yet.” Danny said through another yawn, stretching out obliviously.

Jason stared, open mouthed.

“What…?” Danny asked when he opened one eye mid stretch. He ran back what he just said, face turning scarlet. “I mean… fuck. You know what I mean.” He groused, purposefully not looking at the other three. “You try not really sleeping for five years and see where it gets you.”

Tucker and Sam burst into a fit of laughter. “Called it.” Sam announced, fist bumping Tucker and deftly dodging the swat.

“I can’t believe I’m still friends with you two assholes.” Danny grumbled, still red. “Let’s get this execution over with…”

Bruce sent Alfred in the town car to pick them up. “Master Jason, it is good to see you are making friends.” Alfred’s voice was genuinely caring beneath the dry delivery.

“Yeah yeah. A, these are Danny, Tucker and Sam. Three new people for you to feed.”

“Most excellent, I am always being told that I cook entirely too much.” Feeding a family of vigilantes that never seem to sit still requires a lot of food after all. He opened the back door gesturing for them to enter. “Sirs. Ma’am. Master Jason, I assume you will be taking ‘shotgun’?”

Danny, Tucker and Sam slid into the car, squishing Danny in the middle seat. Jason went around and opened his own door as Alfred closed the back. “Yeah. I’m not feeling like the trunk tonight.”

The ride to the manor was tense, even though Alfred did his best to settle it out by talking about different foods in the fridge that needed to be eaten if ‘you kids’ -Jason included- would be amenable.

For Danny, it was torture on two fronts. First, he had no idea what he was walking into. The second was that even after a pile of pizza rolls, Danny still felt like he had a black hole instead of a stomach. Was that due to the fact his family never seemed to have an adequate volume of non contaminated food, he was a man under 25, a halfa or just hadn’t eaten much recently? Not even he knew the answer to that. He was just pretty used to ignoring the feeling.

When the car drove through the manor’s gates, nobody seemed impressed. Which would have been concerning if Jason hadn’t remembered seeing the Mansons at galas before. Danny seemed like he was trying to melt through the seats, regretting his choice to come there.

“I swear to fuck if it’s Vlad here…” he muttered to the two other teens, so quietly Jason almost didn’t hear it.

“You’d feel it wouldn’t you?” Tucker asked just as quietly.

“Maybe? If it’s not his domain it might take longer…”

“Well do you feel anything now?” From Sam. Jason watched Alfred’s eyes in the mirror. He was listening too.

“No…. Not him. This is the domain of something, but I don’t know who or what.” Danny tried to look out the window, squinting through the glass to look for Jason didn’t know what.

Eventually he shrugged and sat back as the car pulled down the winding drive. It was only as Alfred opened the door to the backseat that something odd happened. Danny’s breath came out in a single puff of winter condensation, and all three of them tensed. Bruce was standing there, watching them, and all three got out, lining up against the back of the car. Danny seemed to be looking at something, distracted while B was giving them the typical welcome speech, and ushering them inside out of the cool night air. Though the other two didn’t seem to be able to see what Danny did, they gave whatever he was looking at a wide berth.

“D?” Tucker asked, hand on Danny’s arm. He just shook his head.

“Not violent.” He murmured back. “Been here a long time…”

That brought up more questions than Jason thought he’d be able to ask in one night. If Bruce heard the exchange he wisely chose to comment on it.

They all followed Bruce into the main sitting room, and the trio sat on the couch while Bruce took one armchair and Jason shoved another to be more lined up with the couch before flopping into it in a way that was sure to make B’s teeth grit.

“Has Jason told you why I’ve brought you here, chum?” Bruce said to Danny once Alfred had brought them all drinks and an assortment of snacks. Danny immediately set in on the food, eating in a way that was just controlled enough to seem bored.

Danny was about to answer when Sam elbowed him in the side. He finished chewing and swallowed. “He said you’d explain everything when we got here. I assumed it was because you thought we were dating and wanted to give me the shovel talk.” A pause. “We aren’t.” Another pause. “Dating that is. These are good snacks.” Danny’s eyes kept darting to something over Bruce’s shoulder.

Jason assumed it was to the portrait of the late Waynes. Those eyes had an uncanny habit of seeming to hone in on you wherever you went. Still, before Bruce could process, Jason put on his best terrible southern accent. “Aw, honey, no need to hide from my father. No doubt you’ll be able to win my dowry in no time.”

“Jason.” Bruce sounded constipated. Good. Serves him right for tormenting Danny. “No, I brought you here because I have something very important to reveal to you.” Bruce waited an appropriately dramatic amount of time, causing Jason to roll his eyes. “I am Batman.” There was a moment before the trio let out the fakest gasp he’d ever heard. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What? No way!” God their acting was terrible. Danny was even doing that little nervous laugh thing he did when the topic of families came up in class.

“You knew.” It was less a question and more of a statement, then Bruce turned slowly to focus the full weight of his gaze on Jason. “They knew.”

Jason waved a hand. “Don’t look at me. They figured it out the moment I said we hacked into the GIW. Turns out having one of the hacks originate close to the house meant they could figure it out since they had some basic common sense deduction skills.”

“I….” Bruce sighed heavily and grabbed his mug, looking for the world like he was regretting every choice he’d ever made leading up to that point.

Danny snorted a laugh but covered it with a really badly acted cough. Sam elbowed him and he made a sort of helpless gesture and gestured off to the side of the room. Interesting.

“Care to share with the rest of the class Danny?” Jason asked, watching him as well as he could without actually sitting up.

“Uh… well… it has to do with uh… my powers. The lady over there…” he gestured again to the side of the room, “just told uh…. Mr. Bat…? Mr. Man…? That it’s what children do, and she’s had to watch her “Little Roo” do that to her for years now.”

At the name, Bruce sat up stock straight, looking around the room. “What kind of trick is this?” He growled, defensive. “How did you know that name?” Danny immediately looked nervous, grabbing onto his friends.

“The woman told me. The one in the painting.” Bruce and Jason both turned to look up at the portrait of the Waynes and that was all it took for Danny and his friends to completely disappear.

“Danny, come back. He’s not going to hurt you.” Jason sat up now, trying to locate Danny in the room. He knew the younger man and his friends were still there, he could feel Danny close but it was clear he was trying to reassess the situation.

When Danny didn’t immediately appear again, Jason looked around for something he could throw at Bruce. There wasn’t anything of an appropriate annoyance level immediately handy so he grabbed the pillow off the couch Danny and his friends had vacated and flung it at Bruce, taking no small amount of pride in the resounding thud it made as the fabric connected with his father’s head.

Bruce looked over at him then. “Can I help you?”

“Me? Nah. But you could try to calm Danny down before he gets sick of our shit and ghosts us permanently. He’s hiding here somewhere.” Had he just made a pun??? He needed to spend less time with Tim.

It was only then that Bruce seemed to shake off his shock at what Danny had said to realize that he and his friends were unable to be seen. “Danny? Chum? Jay is right. I will not harm you. I was just…. Shocked by the fact that my mother’s ghost is still here…. And making comments.” There was another moment of silence before Danny spoke again.

“Oh… that being your mom explains a lot. Your dad is here too, but he hasn’t said much.” Slowly, Danny became visible again, floating in the corner with his friends, who seemed far too used to being grabbed and floated off with for their own good. He lowered them to the floor first, and fidgeted with his clothes until Jason reached out and gestured to the remaining food.

“Eat or Alfred will be disappointed.” Carefully, Danny let his feet touch the floor again, and became fully solid and visible. Only once Danny was okay did Tucker and Sam go and sit back down, grabbing a snack for themselves.

“Sorry…” Danny murmured to all of them, retaking his position between his friends.

“Not at all lad. I should be the one apologizing to you. Tonight is the night of unexpected it seems.” Jason noted, that while Bruce should be apologizing, he in fact had not said the words. “I wanted to let you know, personally, that you will be safe from those government stooges while the League still stands. You should not have to be afraid to exist and had we received your messages when they were sent, we would have helped then.“

Danny narrowed his eyes, pausing mid bite. “You’d help some kid you don’t know, just like that?”

Jason snorted then, cutting off Bruce’s response. “Danny, B found like five kids, all with black hair, blue eyes and a tragic backstory. You fit right in.”

Danny looked at Jason for a moment, considering, then at the two ghosts that had stayed in the room. Finally, he nodded. “Alright. I’ll trust you. For now.”

“Excellent. Shall I have Alfred make up a couple of guest rooms?” Bruce looked entirely too happy at the idea of having guests.

“No, I’ve got my own place. But thanks…” Danny said, trying very hard not to look worried at the invitation.

Jason texted something to Alfred, then stood when the butler entered the room with a large ziploc bag. Jason stood and took it, then dumped the rest of the snacks into the bag before pressing it into Danny’s hands.

“C’mon. I’ll bring you home. You look exhausted still.” Jason carefully, but casually positioned himself between Bruce and Danny. Not that Jason didn’t trust Bruce, but Danny had been through a lot and Jason wanted to offer any protection or comfort he could. Danny nodded, standing with his friends. Sam looped one of her arms through his.

“Thank you for the food and assurances of Danny’s safety.” Tucker said diplomatically as Sam pulled Danny after Jason.

[occamstfs]

To The Ground Floor

Heyo- Saw this next picture and just had to use it so here’s a businessman to dumb sub twunk TF! 

If anyone wants to suggest a prompt for my 1K follower post here’s the link- https://forms.gle/NE66kaH4KJxkhgPk9

Probably be wrapping it up/posting a poll soon! -Occam

I don’t know what my company was thinking when they scheduled our conference in Tenerife. It would be one thing if it was a retreat or team vacation, but it is nearly impossible to get any real work done with all these tourists stomping around and getting in my way. I was set to make it early to our morning meeting, as I always do, before this twat forced his way in before I could get to the close door button. He surely noticed since he glared at me before returning to focus on the only thing that seems to matter to him, his vanity.

In retrospect I should have kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t help but scoff as he started to take a picture of his reflection in the door. It was immature, but when dealing with this crowd of influencers or whatever these childish twits has put me off my usually stoic demeanor. He immediately responded with aggression, “You laughin’ mate? You lot all think you’re so much better than us eh?” He scowls once more at me and to his credit, I do think myself superior to him. Not afraid to say it either.

I open my mouth to shoot some clever insult at him but before I can the delinquent fully spits at me! Where does he get off! The elevator chimes as it stops at the sixth floor. I grab my handkerchief to wipe the spit off my dress shoes as I hear him run off, shouting “you’ll get yours ya git!” I look up to see the small of his back showing beneath his trailing coat and mesh top. I can’t help but stare as he runs, asshole he may be but, god, he is hot isn’t he?

I cough as I can’t believe I thought that! He’s absolute filth! Parading himself around dressed like that on a work day, my word! I don’t notice that there is no longer a handkerchief in my hand as I reach to wipe the spit off my shoes with my now empty hand. As I finally wrest my eyes from his pert body I notice that the villain pushed every button in the elevator. So help me god if I’m late to my meeting I will find him and- well, there’s not much I can do. I’m not exactly the peak specimen, unlike, uh him I suppose.

The doors click closed and begin to take me to the fifth floor. I consider hopping off to take the stairs but I’m sure he’ll be there waiting for me. I go to check my rolex when I notice I’m not wearing it? I would never go to a meeting without it though? My mind grows foggy as I thoughtlessly wipe the spit still on my hand on my suit. God it’s a little warm in this elevator isn’t it. I sniff the air and find that it still smells of that jerk. His cologne must’ve been something intense.

I continue to whiff the air before realizing that it is clearly not perfume but his natural body odor, blushing as I grow slightly jealous at his scent. I find my mind drifting as I think what a man he must be to smell so, mm. The only word I can think is, virile? Ugh, I need to get to work, this is going to set me back. The doors clink open to the fifth floor as the heat only continues to grow. Why am I wearing such a thick suit jacket anyway? It is so fucking hot on this island. I absolutely hate it here. I’ll just take it off for the rest of the elevator ride. Yeah, that couldn’t hurt right? My eyes glaze over as I think of his coat trailing off his head as he ran down the hallway and I bite my lip.

God that hot fucker. My jacket falls to the floor and before I can catch it it’s as if it was never there. I grunt as I think once more of my upcoming meeting. Surely they won’t judge right? My mind shuffles as I don’t even try to understand what has happened to my jacket. The fogginess in my head swiftly finds a form though as I see his smug smirk in my mind. Fuck I- I need to fuck him, or be fucked or? I grunt once more, my voice noticeably more dull. I try to fan my shirt open as the heat grows worse and I find myself growing hornier by the second. The elevator is already on the way to the fourth floor without my notice. I give up fanning my shirt and instead just open the buttons when I am suddenly met with something I cannot reconcile. When the fuck did I get, such, fuckable pecs? I press a finger into my own chest and start to drool as I see the depth of my muscle. I see my brown nipples grow and try to wipe the pooling drool from my mouth as I think how much my body looks like that uh, that twit? No that uh, that hot fucker?  I feel like I’m losing my mind. Or, losing myself? Uh..

The doors open and close on floor four as I struggle to think of absolutely anything but that, uh, stud. My own chest jutting out forces me to think of his own hearty pecs. The powerful curves of his body stretching his fishnet top, ugh. I see the biceps now on my own arms and struggle to not flex them thinking of that staring at himself in the elevator’s reflective wall and posing. I stare at the abs pushing out of my torso and think of his cinched waist peeking out from those sagging pants. God why didn’t I just try to fuck him then oohh.. Or no, Why didn’t I give myself to him..I moan as I loosen my belt, trying to allow my growing erection some air, instead giving my cock and ass more space to expand.

God his fuckable ass was impossible to miss even through those jeans. I bite my lip once more trying to stop myself from moaning as the doors open to the third floor. No one is there to see or hear me as my pants drop to the floor and disappear as if they were never there. As if I would wear pleated pants ever I think blushing. My cock begins to grow to fill my boxers. Or no hee hee- Surely I’m not wearing boxers right haha, giggling as I look down and see the clear imprint of my erection in my tight spandex. Mikey would never let me wear something so unattractive as boxers~

I feel an itch in my crotch as I think of Mikey once more, not hesitating to wonder how I could possibly know his name. Nor why he brings me such intense, feelings. It’s just, I’m so lucky to have him! Ah- I might lose control if I keep thinking about him, I need to keep it together for my uh, meeting? I shove my hand into my crotch to deal with whatever that itch is when I find it’s not my still growing cock, but a jungle of pubes that have begun to grow down there. I feel my fingers drag through them, now covered in sweat as the pubes begin to push themselves above my waistline. 

I giggle to myself as I see the thick black hair inch its way to create a perfect treasure trail up my stomach. I’ve gotta keep it looking good for Mikey after all! I play with the lengthening hair in my crotch, giggling to myself, as the elevator makes its landing on the second floor. I raise my sweaty hand to smell it as some prude stares in disbelief in the elevator lobby. I smile coily at him as he narrows his eyes in shock. He almost looks a little familiar but I’d certainly not waste any of my time on him haha!

He decides not to get on for some reason, not that I care as I look at my sharpening reflection. I play with my chest feeling the ebb and flow of my strength as I start to smell my own scent fill the elevator. I notice my feet are now bare on the dirty elevator’s floor. Ah, I hope Mikey won’t be upset if my feet are gross, smiling to myself as I think of him chewing me out. I feel a similar forest begin to grow in my pits as the elevator stops unceremoniously on the first floor before making its way to the ground floor.

I rub my hands all over on my now almost completely unclothed body as I feel my spandex shrink and tighten into a yellow speedo. My hands glide smoothly around the muscular curves, only ever getting caught on my tangled pubes as I giggle to myself. Wasn’t there something I had to do when I got to the ground floor? I raise my arm to bask in my scent as the elevator finally delivers me to my destination, and who could be standing there but Mikey!

“Mikey!” I shout at him! He looks so happy to see me, before responding, “well you’re looking great aren’t ya love.” He pushes and prods me as if he’s inspecting me as I proudly stand there giving him the doe eyes he demands. He smirks as he pulls me out of the elevator and plants his lips on mine. I can barely help but come right there as I feel my cock stretch at my speedo. I moan but keep it together, feeling his pursed lips grow into a smirk before he pulls away and laughs. 

I tilt my head at him before he speaks once more, “you remember what you’re supposed to be doing right now right, pet?” My face grows warm with blush, surely betraying my cluelessness as I struggle to remember. I had a meeting or? No, Haha As if! I, I could never work a stupid office job~ I try to look as coy as possible, inviting him to jog my memory. His eyes grow dark, not from aggression, but a hunger welling within him as he answers, “I need ya to get those posh wankers and bring them to me eh, doll? Need to them to submit yeh?”

My smile grows wide as my mind fills with excitement for this task. I’m gonna be so good and Mikey will be so proud of me! None of those boring businessmen will be able to resist me hehe! I begin to make my way out to the beach looking for any salarymen looking especially susceptible to my charms. I strut around, my body on display to everyone, monkeysuit suckers and other horny tourists alike. As if any of them have something more important going on hee hee! Soon they’ll all realize there is nothing more important than pleasuring Mikey!

[lamnwar]

Sure you can take it? Imayoshi Shouichi x Fem! Reader

MDNI 18+ knb kinktober entry!!

A/N: wrote some part of this while I was pissed drunk at a bachelorette, I think you guys will be able to tell while reading 🙂

Context: He's the worst but that dick is so good!!

Warnings: Imayoshi is a bitch but are we surprised? size kink!!, blowjob, mentioned of fingering, semi-clothed sex, unprotected sex, Imayoshi comes on reader's ass, reader cries, mix of praise/degredation (reader receiving), slight sadism, Imayoshi Shouichi as a person deserves a warning tbh

Shouichi Imayoshi is a bastard.

Or so has been your mantra for all the years that you’ve known him. Cunning eyes and a sly smile plastered on his face, enough to make you wary of him. He is, without any doubt, the guy that your mother has always warned you about. He’ll break your heart and ruin you for anyone that’s to come next.

Then, can anybody explain in all rationality the bruises on your legs from how hard he’s fucked you? Or the traces of your own nails in the palms of your hands from the excruciating pleasure he makes you feel? It’s insane, irrational even. He’s the worst, really. Such an asshole, yet you can’t help but beg for that cock as if your life depends on it. A constant chasing game, where you run away only to circle back right into his arms. He’s the moon, and you’re the tide, always coming to him in your every attempt to pull away. You can’t even tell when that started. Maybe it was just meant to be meaningless hate fuck, something that you stupidly figured would help you deal with his despicable personality better.

You have since learned not to play games with Shouichi Imayoshi, because as much as it breaks your ego to admit it, he is far more intelligent than you’ll ever be. That’s probably why you are on your way to his place right now – not even the fatigue from this week can convince you to stay away from him. You need him, desperately even, it’s ridiculous. You barge in his place almost hatefully, only to find the tall man enjoying himself a late-night drink, that annoying smirk on his lips.

“You should have told me to pick you up, it’s never a good idea for a pretty girl to walk alone at night.” He hums, leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead as a greeting.

You sigh, melting in the softness of his gesture. How can you take yourself seriously when he behaves like that? That may actually be the thing you despise the most about him. You are truly convinced that there is no greater jerk than that guy, but he doesn’t behave like one at all. Always the gentleman, he’s even had the audacity to ask you politely before ravaging you for the first time. You went back home after that first time legs wobbling like a new-born deer. You should have known that something was wrong with you back then – you couldn’t even take him all the way without crying, and yet, you keep running back to this dick as if you get your life force from it.

Today is no exception to what has become your new normal. Shouichi’s sporting an aura of calm and confidence that is almost unsettling, while you sit uncomfortably in the pool of arousal that gathers in your panties from how he riled you up enough to make you take the last train to his place. His actions are slow, calculated despite their seemingly nonchalance. The way he watches you through his glasses as he sips on his drink quietly.

“How have you been?” “Have you been sleeping enough lately?” “That’s a lovely blouse that you are wearing today, sweetheart.” “Are those rings new?”

Casual talk that would lead anyone to believe that he truly cares about you, often time letting strangers ask if you are dating. Surely, you must be! Why wouldn’t want such a charming young man all for you? A smart, classy boy, with a great sense of leadership, a wordsmith destined to greatness. The aunties would tell you to marry him as soon as possible so you can benefit from the greatness of becoming his wife. Even your friends can’t back you up, and that’s entirely on you. You could tell them how mean he is to you, how cruel he can be – but you contradict yourself with the shameless things you do in his company, and in all willingness, at that. He’s never forced you, he’s never manipulated you. No, if anything, he’s always said that he’s in love with the way you see right through him.

“You know, angel, nothing’s ever made my cock harder than he first time you called me an asshole.” He confessed once, while he was balls deep in your pussy.

And to make your case even more of a lost one, you were moaning like a bitch in heat at these words. Ultimately, Shouichi will always look at you in a way that asks who’s the real twisted one between the two of you? Because there might be something unsettling about him, but he is not the one that’s made the conscious choice to choke on his dick.

The way you get on your knees between his legs as he’s still sipping on his drink to eagerly rub your face against his bulge is already telling. He chuckles, fingers almost loving in the way they caress your hair. He takes a sip, enjoying the show you’re putting up for him. Hurrying to remove his pants and to free his semi-hard cock from his underwear.

“Fuck.”

You swear, annoyed at how big he is already. You know you’ll get wrecked by him, you know it’ll hurt good. And you know that he has all the rights to look at you in all superiority when he’s packing a dick that huge. It’s ridiculous, the spectacle of you trying as hard as you can to fit him in your mouth.

“Take your time, pretty, I’m still enjoying my drink so no rush.” He coos, pulling your head away so you can choke out some air.

You are too cocky, thinking you can stretch your mouth enough to take him that fast. You feel like a first timer, not skipping ahead any step. The languid stroke of your tongue on his tip as your hand pumps his base, letting the blood rush to the organ to bring it to life. Then your nails dig in the flesh of his thighs when you go for it, wrapping your lips around his head – so far, so good, you can take it. He sighs, watching you go step-by-step, every single action increasing the pleasure that courses through his body. Ah, you seem to have settled already, with the nice pace you’ve set as you take the first few inches of his dick.

Perfect.

The hand that was previously gently petting your head now holds your hair in a tight grip, making your scalp ache as he suddenly thrust his dick full in your mouth. You choke, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you whine. He laughs, watching the drool dripping out the corner of your slutty mouth.

“So cute… go ahead, suck me more.”

You can protest as much as you want, you still obey. Watching him with teary eyes as he fucks your throat shamelessly never fails to make you horny. You really can’t help the pulses of your clit when you do such things, or the way you feel your blood rush to all the wrong places, carrying with it lewd thoughts and shameful desires. Depravity must be your name, because nothing else can justify the pleasure you get from being treated like that.

He doesn’t even give you the liberty to decide whether you’ll suck him to his orgasm, just so you can swallow every drop of his delicious cum (also a thing that you hate about him – how can semen taste this good?).

“Stand up and bend for me.”

“But I’m not done!” you pout, to which he laughs.

“You’re a better slut when you don’t complain.”

His words are followed by a harsh kiss on your lips, tongue snaking inside your mouth to keep you quiet. He’s smart enough to tell that all your fussing and complaining is meaningless, because you instinctively always do what he says. You’d be a fool not to go with his flow – he’s let you take the lead once, just so you learn your lesson, and the evident conclusion is that it’s never going to be as good as when he’s the one setting the rules.

“Fuck you, Shouichi” you breathe out when he finally leaves your mouth.

He hums, hands already pulling down your pants, before he hooks his fingers on the sides of your panties, pulling your panties teasingly.

“Will you do it?”

He chuckles at his own joke, while you stand there, wandering if it makes any sense at all for you to be with a man like that. But you’re quick to find the answer to your question the moment his mouth founds your neck, and his fingers find your clitoris. Hand ever so slyly finding your cunt, letting you gasp in pure surprise and pleasure at the languid way he twists the bundle of nerves. He’s so smooth, making you nothing but putty in his hands. So malleable, so easy to bend and contort to his will. You are a truly, honest to god, nice girl. He’s no dupe, he knows that the venom that you spit at him is harmless – you’re a mere grass snake, nothing next to a cobra like him. He’s magnificent, you have to recognize it. He is, when he stretches your pussy good with his fingers right there in his kitchen, hot breath kissing the sensitive skin of your neck as you mewl desperately.

“Desperate, aren’t we?  Wanna go to my bedroom or are you too impatient?”

“Stop playing around!” you whine, pushing your ass back to meet his length. “Fuck me already.”

“My… and here I was trying to be a gentleman.” He clicks his tongue, hand on your lower back pushing you to arch just like he wants you to. “You’re so sweet, though, how can I say no to such a good whore?”

You whimper, feeling the tease of his tip between your folds. It’s mean – despite the softness of the act. Every second feels like eternity, leading you to leave your dignity at the door so you can plead for his cock in all neediness.

“Ah… here we go.” He lets his head tear through your walls, drawing a breathy moan out of your lips.

He grunts, hands gently caressing your hips as he stills. You wince, your mind going blank at his size. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve been in this predicament before, you may never get used to him. That cock might kill you one day, that much you are convinced of. He may try to distract you with the soft caresses on your lower stomach, or the slow circles he runs on your clit, but you know it’s a short-lived respite.

“Go ahead, fuck yourself on me” he commands, slithering voice reverbing in your empty head, before travelling down to your pussy.

Your sweet, drippy and obedient cunt that takes inch by inch. Your tears that fall silently down your cheek; Shouichi knows not to worry, you do that when you feel too good. He knows all the tells – the way your own fingernails dig in the skin of your palms when you clench your fists, and the furrow in your brows and the whimpers that roll off your tongue. The slight shake of your legs as you try to hold yourself up and the gloss in your eyes from your tears of pleasure. Nothing could make Shouichi Imayoshi more excited than the sight of you like that.

No, actually, it’s not excitement. It’s love.

He loves the way you take him, the way you cry and beg for his cock, and to see your sweet hole stretch like that to accommodate him. He feeds on the knowledge that he’s got you ruined for anybody else – no matter what harsh word you throw at him, you’ll always be back. Ass up, legs spread, back arched, pussy all for his to conquer.

“That’s a good slut…” he whispers in your ear before lightly nipping at the lobe, “you like to be split in half on my dick, hm?”

You nod eagerly, your lewd moans speaking volumes.

“You like it, when it hurts good… ah!”

He throws his head back, a soft grunt leaving his tongue as you clench around him. Surprisingly, you manage to push half of him out, but you are quick to pull it back by pushing your ass to his pelvis, your skin meeting his in loud slaps. It’s animalistic, actions driven by pure lust and nothing else.

“Gonna come, fuck!” you whine, tears blurring your vision.

It’s just such a heavenly pain, a tear in your guts that makes your soul ascends to untouched heights. Your hips have a will of their own, trying to engulf all that you can take of his massive cock, seeking more. Drunk on him, hooked on his body. You are addicted to Shouichi Imayoshi.

“Yeah, me too…” His laugh is tender, pure ecstasy that makes him thrust back just to make you come around him.

You cry loudly, the melody of your voice making his dick twitch as you let go, erratic contractions of your walls tiring your body. He’s never failed to make you come hard, giving you the kind of orgasm that you cannot reproduce without him, no matter how much you try. Strong arms hold you as your worn-out body collapse against the kitchen counter, the next following minutes being a blur.

All that you know, is that you eventually feel a big emptiness in your body when he pulls out to decorate your ass with hot ropes of cum. You are shaking, breathing through your tears. His thumb swipes the salty drops away from your face, drinking the taste of your tears. It’s so sweet, so addictive, that he can also wish to get more of it on his tongue.

“You always come for me, don’t you? That’s just lovely.”