#it's not like you can hear the bass of it either

[spookysanta]

Chapter 2: You Don't Even Know Me (Yet).

Ongoing tags:

[Modern Romance] [Slow Burn] to [Fireworks [Black!Reader] [Younger!Reader] [Reader is That Girl] [Obsessed Michael™] [So Much Eye Contact] [Vacation Fling] turns into [Something Real]

Potential TW/CW: [Swearing] [Light Sexual Tension] to [Eventual Smut]

Read Part 1.

enjoyyyy my loves! 

He didn’t try to touch you. Didn’t lean in close. Didn’t speak with his hands.

He just stood there, solid and still, looking at you like he was trying to memorize something he hadn’t earned yet. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

You hesitated, nodding to the glass in your hand. “I’ve got one.”

Michael smiled. “Can I buy you the next one?”

You raised your glass, sipping slowly. “That depends,” you said, voice even. “You looking for conversation, or a shortcut?”

His smile didn’t falter — but his eyes shifted. Sharpened. “I’m looking for you.”

That made your stomach flip. But you didn’t let it show.

“You don’t even know me yet.”

“Which is why I’d like to talk to you. Take you out. Learn something.”

You studied him — steady posture, hands in his pockets, tone low but respectful. He wasn’t pushing. But you could tell that he wasn’t leaving, either. You tilted your head. “I’m not a hookup.”

Michael nodded. “I wasn’t asking for one.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m much younger than you.”

“Lucky me.” He shrugged with a smirk.

“And I’m only in town for a week.”

“I only need one day.”

You blinked.

He said it like it was already decided... Like he’d already chosen.

One floor above you, on the rooftop, your girls were watching everything. Tati elbowed Kris, whispering intently, almost like Michael could hear her over the roaring bass and the over 40 feet of space between you. “Is that—?”

It took her a second for it to register, but when it did, Kris gasped and grabbed Tati’s arm. Almost like they came to the same realization that it was him. Here. In this space. With them. Right now. “No fucking way. It is.”

Jae leaned forward over the balcony, peering over to where the two of you were below. “Why is he standing like he’s gonna change her whole life tonight?”

Nyah sipped her martini slowly and almost was sure that this was definitely gonna be a thing. “Why is she standing like she might let him?”

Kris pulled out her phone – to record a video of your conversation for her… records. “This is either the beginning of her villain arc or the softest love story ever written.”

Jae shook her head. “There is no in between.”

But back on the terrace, you sighed, trying to hide a smile. “You’re real smooth.”

“I’m just real interested.”

You tilted your glass, swirling the ice. “Let’s say I give you my number.”

Michael raised a brow. “You thinking about it?”

A coy shrug came in response. “Maybe.”

“Then I’m already lucky.”

You bit your bottom lip, heat rising in your chest. “And what happens after?”

“I call you. I ask when I can see you. I make you laugh. I show you I’m not wasting your time.” He paused. “And then I listen. To whatever boundary you’ve got. Whatever pace you need.”

Silence.

Then you spoke up, making sure to not break his intimidating, soft but sure. “I don’t do casual well.”

“I don’t either,” he said, voice just above a whisper, leaning in close. “That’s why I’m standing here.”

You stared at him. Then reached into your crossbody bag, pulled out your phone, and handed it over. “Go ahead.”

He smiled like he’d just won something holy.

In the Uber back to the hotel, your friends were unwell. Like, more unwell than usual. 

Like.. apocalyptically unwell. A barrage of questions flew your way, as one would expect with friends like yours.

“What did he say?” 

“How did he smile?”

“Did he touch you?”

“Why is my stomach in knots and it wasn’t even me?”

You sat in the backseat with a chuckle, phone clutched in your lap, trying not to smile too hard. And then it buzzed with a message from an unsaved number.

Unknown: Let me know when you’re home safe.

The car went silent.

Then—

“Holy shit! It’s official!” Tati screamed.

Nyah smacked the back of the seat in front of her – which happened to be the driver’s seat, more than likely earning your group a less than rave rating, judging by the glare she received through the rearview mirror.

Kris yelled, “We need to go shopping! You have to get a nice dress.”

Jae clutched your arm and whispered into your ear, “You’re done for. Absolutely cooked. That’s your man now.”

You smiled down at the screen. And for the first time since getting to Los Angeles, you didn’t feel like you were on vacation.

You felt like you’d just started something real.

-

You woke to sunlight and butterflies, but not the cute kind.

The “I can’t feel my legs, is this real life? I might be sick” kind.

Your phone was on the nightstand, face-down. Rolling over slowly, pillow still creased against your cheek, heart thudding like you were late for something emotional, your phone dinged with a new notification blinking at you.

MBJ: Good morning, beautiful. ☀️ Hope you slept well. Would you be down to go out today?

You blinked at the screen, trying – and failing – not to grin so hard that your face goes hot.

Tati’s voice cut across the suite, clearly having walked past your room with greedy eyes looking past your doorway. “She’s up! And she’s smiling! Somebody get the camera—”

“Do not start,” you mumbled, grabbing a pillow to hide your face.

The girls ran in at the summoning, corralling into your space like you had the Holy Grail.

Jae climbed into your bed. “He texted you, didn’t he?”

Kris leaned against the door. “Tell us he said something respectful and hot.”

You held up your phone. The girls crowded into the room to read it together. And, as expected from your friends, they immediately lost their minds.

-

The next hour was pure chaos.

You sat at the edge of the vanity in a silk robe, eyes half-lined, while Tati curled your hair and Kris picked earrings that “said approachable but secretly expensive.” Jae made sure to do your makeup in a way that was “sexy, but still casual”... and completely missed the “casual” mark. 

Nyah was laying out possible outfits like a stylist on a deadline. “No pastels,” she said. “This is a ‘you’re gonna remember me’ date, not a garden party.”

“And do not wear flats,” Jae added. “Even if he’s tall. Elevate yourself, literally and spiritually.”

“Lip gloss, not lipstick,” Kris said. “We’re not committing to the kiss, but we’re inviting it.”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, one eye done, curls pinned, dress half-zipped, and whispered: “What do I do if I end up liking him too much?”

Tati paused, brush in hand. “Then that means he’s worth it.”

You were finishing mascara touch ups when your phone buzzed again.

MBJ: I’m outside when you’re ready.

You didn’t see it, honestly. You were too busy trying not to sweat through your outfit and make sure your edges hadn’t betrayed you. So when your phone rang, you jumped.

“H-Hey,” you answered, flustered. The girls huddled around you, partially in concern, but also to hear if it’s really him.

Michael’s voice was unbothered. “You tryna stand me up already?”

You froze. “Wait—what?”

“I’m outside.”

Your eyes widened. “Outside..?”

“Like… at your hotel.”

“Oh my God.”

He chuckled. “Take your time. I just didn’t want you to rush ‘cause of me.”

Your mouth parted. “You brought flowers, didn’t you?”

A pause.

“I might’ve.”

You stepped out of the elevator ten minutes later, after a much-needed pep talk from Tati to “be yourself, don’t freak out”, but also to keep in mind that “even though he’s just a guy, he’s also a guy that can pay off your student loans”. As if that helped your nerves to not feel like static all over your skin.

And there he was. Posted up by the front desk, leaning casually against the wall by the door. Black tee, dark jeans, phone in hand, bouquet of deep red and cream-toned flowers wrapped clean and simple in brown paper.

He looked up, and smiled the kind of smile that made the whole room’s temperature go up a degree (or five). “Damn,” he said softly, eyes sweeping over you. “You always look like that?”

You laughed — soft, shaky. “Only when I’m being watched.”

He handed you the flowers. “You look nervous,” he said gently, opening the lobby door for you and leading you to a very chill stark white Camaro.

“I am.”

He opened the car door like he’d done it a hundred times before. “Let’s fix that.”

-

The date wasn’t perfect.

It was so much better.

Low lights, good food, conversation that made you laugh too loud and soften in ways you hadn’t planned. He didn’t rush, didn’t try too hard. He just listened. Talked. Looked at you like you were already his favorite chapter.

And when he walked you back to the hotel’s entrance, hand hovering respectfully at your lower back, you turned to him at the door and said, “So what now?”

Michael smiled. “You tell me when I can see you again.”

You stared at him — quiet, steady.

“Soon.”

-

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[maxdurden]

my room at this hotel is right above the pool, and they play music in the pool area 24/7. the music is just loud enough that i can hear little whimpers of it in my room. if i'm on the evening news this is why.

[no-i-will-not-shut-up]

the vshojou halloween song!!!! god kuro sounds so good in the harmony like you can hear him taking care of the bass and ironmouse in the soprano and zentraya is so smooth

[gruelproponent]

Tired of seeing that kid who does breakcore drum covers and looks like rick from degrassi

[screampied]

Sukuna’s tongue on his abdomen. You do the rest 😫

❤︎ ໋𓈒 asking to ride sukuna's stomach tongue while you make out with him

warnings. fem! reader, true form sukuna, riding his stomach tongue, cunnilinguś, dirty talk, praise, mdni.

“. . woman, don’t mumble,” he’d sneer, an arm hooked around your waist. you panted, suddenly feeling small. he sat manspread on his throne, occasionally brushing a thumb against the edges of your hips. dark irises stare you down before he continues to speak in a rough tone. “repeat yourself. and look at me when you speak, i taught you well, did i not?”

your eyes ran down every inch of his body, all down sukuna’s washboard abs before it leers near that particular spot. near the lower part of his torso, where a merely pried open mouth rests. you couldn’t help but ponder to yourself, imagining such raunchy things about the extra mouth that attached towards the outer part of his stomach.

“i said . .” you project your voice slightly, still speaking softly. the air felt thick all around you, you swallow an invisible lump in your throat as you straddle him before sighing. “your extra mouth near . . there,” and you point, watching his dark eyes glance to where you’re referring to. “can— may i sit on it?”

“ah,” he snickers, already knowing you were gonna ask him that anyway. sukuna brings a hand towards his mouth, wiping underneath his nose before humming. “you’re such an odd girl,” and his voice deepens, its pitch sends a plethora of tingles to wander all throughout your body. “you may. but first,” and you stare into his eyes, watching as he grabs your chin, gently skimming his thumb alongside your lip as if he was parting your lips to converse. “say those words for me, pretty please.”

as he runs a thumb against your lip, you stare right into his dark hooded eyes. he slyly smiles at you, his fangs briefly poking out as he awaited for those sweet honeyed words to escape.

“but ryo,” you pout, aware he went by sukuna but you always shortened his name whenever you didn’t get your way right away.

“hmph,” he huffs out a husky breath, raising your chin up slightly as you still sat on his lap. your panties that were already pulled to the side pokes underneath your skirt before you inch closer towards him—closer towards his perfectly sculpted chest. “don’t 'ryo' me, girl. manners, let’s use those today, yeah?”

a long silence occurs before you blow, and he finds your frustration entirely adorable…

“pretty please,” you repeat his words, a cute grumble hidden underneath your tone. “pretty please can you allow me on your s-stomach so i can . .”

“never told you to go into detail, nasty girl,” he chortles, and his deep voice made you throb. such bass in it, it boomed throughout the entire palace.

“mhm . . . but as you wish,” and two big hands grab onto the sides of your waist. with a brief lift, you’re scooted up further against his abdomen where the closed mouth resides. “you’re gonna have to either hold on or i’m gonna have you hold you up, princess.”

“okay,” you suck in a sharp breath, wrapping your cute frail arms around him. he’s got this stare that’s so intimidating—so attractive.

you felt him hold your hips in place, guiding you where to sit. he had to slouch a bit against his throne, and you were finally sat. his eyes pierce into yours and he’s awaiting for your reaction. “how does it work, ‘kuna?”

“heh. oh you’ll see,” he grunts, and then moments later, you feel it — a slow lick that runs straight against your panties. your facial expression was cute, taken aback but cute. it felt like usual, how he’d eat you out whenever, just a tad bit different.

the tongue was a bit more lengthy, you moan once you jerk against him before slumping into his chest. “tell me little one,” he says, holding you with his front arms, kissing the tip of your forehead, another ruffling your hair. “how’s my extra tongue making you feel?”

it was so sloppy, you shudder once you hear a brief slurp commence and your eyes merely roll back.

“g—goooood,” you drag out, and he chuckles at how you start to grind against his abdomen. “it feels good, ‘kuna. don’t s—stop.”

“like i said before, such an odd one you are,” he gruffs lowly. from your sheer pleasure, he found himself getting slightly aroused himself. your sweetened moans going all up against his ear makes him smile. you just couldn’t stay still, the more you felt the tongue lap against your sopping cunt — the more you felt the need to grind against him even further. “is it better than my regular tongue?”

“s-stop talking, ‘kuna,” you whine, being taken over with pure lust. it felt so good—you couldn’t exactly put the feeling into words, but you felt yourself grow hot. it was as if the tongue had a mind of its own. flicking vigorously all between your folds, you profusely twitch. “hold me.”

he snickers, his lower arms gripping onto your waist like velcro.

“oh, how humorous. the human has the nerve to tell me what to do,” and you gnaw on your lip, feeling yourself start to dissolve into a blissful trance. the tongue went in multiple directions, circular and all. it spelled out a plethora of things including the alphabet, all over your pussy. you’ve never experienced anything like it. curiosity did kill the cat after all. “you taste sweet. have you been playing with yourself recently?”

“n— no,” you murmur in a weak voice, knowing you were about to approach your peak soon. it was so quick paced, you barely had time to keep up with your own shortened breaths. your voice sounded so small, it trembled on every word and symbol and he just snickers. “i didn’t.”

“look into my eyes and tell me you didn’t touch yourself,” he utters in a growl, gripping your chin as his lower tongue continued to wander all throughout your folds. you were soaked, the more you rutted your jittery hips against him—you became more and more close. his thumb swipes against your lip before he hums out of amusement. “yeah. go on,” he says after you suddenly grow quiet after eight dreadfully long seconds pass. “girl, i don’t have all day.”

you moan, feeling the licks against your sopping entrance fuel up a longing hunger that stirred up inside you. the tongue was slow, making sure to savor every inch of your honeyed taste. your arms remained wrapping around his broad shoulders before you lean in to kiss him.

“foolish woman,” he titters, pressing a finger against your lips. your eyes stare at his long well trimmed nail before averting back towards him. “if you want a kiss from me, you’d say what i tell you to say.”

the pout that stretches against the corners of your lips never cease, he was impossible.

you felt yourself throb at the countless sensational slurps the extra tongue made, you were panting . . hurriedly chasing your irregular rough breaths to only fail, as if it were some sort of lewd competition.

“f— fine,” you grouse, a pout still on your lips. he raises an eyebrow with a smirk, awaiting for your pathetic words that eventually comes. “i … i touched myself when you weren’t here, ‘kuna.”

“and what exactly was the reason for that?” he jibes.

you glare at him but it falters quickly, your eyebrows furrowing into a sweet curl once you’re about to let out a frenzied teeth shattering orgasm.

“i was bored. you’re always away doing boring king stuff and i just—”

“silly girl,” he cuts you off in a sonorous voice, swiftly shaking his head at you describing his royal devoirs as ‘boring king stuff’. you feel your heart flutter once your cunt clenches. you whimper, a fire igniting within you and your thighs suddenly ached. you felt it coming all too well. it was inevitable, your legs trembled the more the tongue lapped against your pussy at a more quickened speed. “don’t care what your reason is, this pussy’s only for my hands ‘n my hands only.”

alas, you were melting, metaphorically speaking but your entire body felt like it was.

it was so lewd, it’s slurping rang through your ears before moments later . . you jolt forward, feeling your release finally come. you came, a coil within you tightening and snapping before you whimper into his arms.

“s— sukunaaa,” you tremor, and that’s when he finally brings you into a loving kiss.

finally, you sink into his warm embrace, still grinding your hips briefly against the mouth that laid against his lower torso. your mouth pops open, glossed lips parting before you skim your tongue against his. he laughs, a hand of his slithering down your back in such a teasing way. you were still moving despite your entire body resuming to ride out your recent orgasm.

his embrace was soft, caressing the tiny hairs that stood up against your back . . lovingly.

as your tongue ran against his, you felt his fangs and you moan right into his mouth — a hand slowly trailing down his chiseled chest. he groans, deepening the kiss before grabbing your chin, tilting your head forward. foreheads touch briefly and it’s so soft.

you’re rocking back and forth, still pulsing heavily before after a while, he pulls away. you’re out of breath, the tongue still laid against your clit before your droopy hooded eyes stare into him.

“. . awww,” he slyly taunts, noticing your dumb expression. all that just from his extra tongue, he hums to himself once more before tilting your chin. “now now, what do we say afterwards?”

“t- thank you, ‘kuna,” and then you let off a deep sigh. “i love you.”

“mhm,” he rasps lowly, leaning forward to plant another sweet kiss on the top of your forehead. “i love you too, princess,” and then a long pause occurs. you’re staring at him, no words escaping but you look like you were desperately yearning to ask him something. “speak, girl.”

in short pants, you feel near his pecs before stammering out in shy words. “can— can we do that again, pretty please?”

sukuna smirks, his eyes briefly rolling before he cocks his neck. he lets off a low grumble before his eyes linger down towards the slick mess you created on him. “hm. as you wish. this time though, you cum when i tell you. understand?”

“yes, ‘kuna.”

“that’s a good girl.”

[reignpage]

Gotta Give To Take

Synopsis: in which roommate!choso hides himself away and you have to coax him out Warnings: smut, a little angsty, plot is just an excuse to be horny I won't lie, no penetrative sex, edging, femdom, manipulation, not proofread Word Count: 4.8k

You’ve fucked up. 

Really fucked up. 

But it wasn’t your fault. Choso, your roommate, wasn’t supposed to be home. He wasn’t supposed to be in your bedroom, hiding in your closet when your friends piled in, drunk and laughing about the pair of panties they found in the living room after the party had moved from the bar to your place. 

Having asked him if there would be any surprises waiting for you, you relied on his promise that the apartment was spotless. 

So, really, it was his fault that he heard them mock his weird, emo disposition. That he heard them call him your ‘creepy, pervy roommate’ who’s ‘probably been sniffing your panties behind your back.’ What he hadn’t heard, however, was your defence of him. Your lack of a monologue about how he’s more than just your roommate apparently hurt him. 

Now, he isn’t speaking to you. 

“Choso, you can’t starve yourself,” you warn, trying to reach him through his locked door. “Just take the fucking food and quit moping.”

There’s no response — no, scratch that, there is a response and it takes form, not in words but, in heavy rock metal blasted on concert-grade speakers. 

“Ugh, fuck you, asshole.”

It’s been days since. You haven’t seen him. Not a glimpse of him heading to the bathroom or to the kitchen. The trays of food you’ve been leaving by his door remain untouched after hours and your nails have been dulled by your constant biting. Even the carpet’s grown worn down by your incessant pacing.

You’ve tried baiting him by leaving his favourite pairs of your panties on top of the laundry basket but they lay there just as you left them when you come back. His own brother hasn’t heard from him. Awkward as hell in the apartment, you don’t dare leave your room anymore either. Perhaps he’ll feel more comfortable coming out to eat if he knew for sure he wouldn’t run into you. 

This has never happened. Sure, there have been times where it’s been frosty between you but that was usually from your end. You’d tell him off for one thing or the other and he’d follow you around, hair all droopy and with a rain cloud over his head as he pouts and begs for forgiveness. 

Impossible to know how to deal with him like this, you just leave him be. Or at least you were planning to. 

Because, at two am, you hear his door click open. The padding of socked feet heading down the hallway and into the kitchen reaches your ears. To hell with boundaries — he never respected yours to begin with. It’s that exact thinking that prompts you to sneak, in the dark, from your room to his. 

The place looks just as it usually does: messy black sheets that are deceptively soft to the touch, big ass speakers in the corner, bass guitar propped up by a wall, and clothes thrown all over the place. Bouncing on the bed, you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, the only thing you’re wearing, as you anticipate his reaction. 

Truthfully, you have no plan; this is impulsive as hell. But waiting for Choso to grow a pair and use his words might be as fruitful as bottling the sun. 

He’s coming back. You can hear the footfall getting louder. Heart beating faster in time with the sense of pending doom screaming that things are going to shit, you clear your throat just as he steps back in. With the moonlight streaming from the window, you hear, rather than see, his surprise — sharp intake of air, clumsy shut of the door, and the clinking of his rings as he wrings his hands together. 

“Choso,” you say.

There’s no response.

He’s unsure of what to say, how to approach you, probably doesn’t even know what’s going on. Shuffling on the cold, wooden floors, he holds his breath.

“Sit.”

Your roommate carefully slides into the desk chair right opposite the bed where you are. At your command, he also turns the lamp on, a warm glow bathes you both and from your place, you see his permanent dark circles have grown darker, his hands shake as they dangle over the armrests, and his hair is flat, they’ve lost their shine. 

Sighing, you ask, “What’s happened to you? Why did you disappear?”

“I was upset,” he begins, hesitantly, like he’s approaching a bear. “Your friends called me all sorts of names and you didn’t defend me.”

“What does it matter what they think? You’ve quite literally never cared about other people’s opinions.”

The man dresses like a rock and roll star, picks his brother up from school paying no mind to the stares he gets from all the parents and teachers alike. He doesn’t smile back at polite servers, gives out cold rejections to blushing girls, and sprints through supermarket aisles, mowing down innocent shoppers, to find you. And considering his own group of friends, a ragtag collection of delinquents, social rejects, and morally dubious individuals, he hardly seems in a position to judge your friends back.

Slumped in his chair, he fiddles with a paperweight. “I don’t care about them and what they think. They don’t know anything.”

“Right, so then what’s the fucking problem? Why haven’t you been picking up my calls, replying to my messages, or answering the door when I knock?”

“No reason,” he mutters.

You groan. You’re fed up. It’s all complete and utter bullshit. Angry, your feet carry you over to him in a blink of an eye. His chin is gripped in your hand and you force him to look at you. He’s tired. Besides the dark circles, there’s redness in his eyes, a tightness to his lips and dullness in his skin. Clearly he hasn’t been eating properly and who knows when the last time he’s had a drop of sunlight was. “Choso…talk to me.”

A pinching echoes in your chest when he shakes out of your grip. 

“I don’t care what they think. But you…” He sucks in a breath, flexing his jaw. “You’re different. You’re supposed to be different, supposed to understand, to be on my side. I felt alone that day and I don’t know what to say to you because I’m not mad. I can't be mad ‘cause I know I’m a little weird. I’m just…hurt, I guess.”

Gulping, you try to defend yourself. “I didn’t know what to say to them. We have a complicated relationship, Choso, and you know it. They wouldn’t understand. Hell, I don’t understand.”

“I think maybe we should uncomplicate it.”

You gasp.

This can’t be the end. He can’t have switched it off, that thing that tethers him to you, that makes him wholly yours in a way that would baffle others. Just the thought is making you nauseous — you don’t know what he’s done to you to send your blood pressure skyrocketing, your palms clammy and breath short at the prospect.

You have to do something. 

You can't let him win, can't let things unfold like this.

He's your roommate, your weirdo, your Choso.

Confused, he watches you walk back to the bed, keeping your eye on him. 

Decisively, you declare, “You don’t get to decide when this is over, Choso. I do. And I say, we’ve barely begun. So, don’t look away. Don’t you dare.”

Somewhere, deep inside you, you know you’re doing something stupid, something crazy, something you’ll completely regret later but in the blanket of the night, with this growing distance between you, you can’t seem to care about words of wisdom, about sanity, or the future. You exist in the now and damn it all if he gets his way. 

Laid back, you spread your legs, the cool air tickling your bare skin. His sheets feel good under you and when you inhale, you’re overwhelmed with his masculine smell, musky yet sweet.

Not even wearing cute panties, you make a show of running your hands up and down your thighs, feeling your slit through the material.

Slightly panicked, perhaps worried this is a test and he’s failing, he hurriedly asks, “W-what’re you doing?” 

There isn’t a hint of insecurity in your voice when you casually reply, sing-songy tone piercing through him, an arrow finding its way home. “Oh, you know…just reminding you why exactly it’s my panties you jerk off with.”

Wasting no more time, you pull said cloth off and circle your clit. The flimsy material stays with you; he’s not quite deserving of it yet. You’re already a little wet and you cling onto that shred of desire, desperate to lose yourself in utter insanity if that’s what it’ll take. 

“I’m getting wetter, Choso. I’m spreading it onto my clit so I can rub at it.”

He clears his throat. “This isn’t right, Y/n. W-we shouldn’t. You shouldn’t.”

Working two fingers in immediately, you’re growing breathless. The ceiling is all you can look at, maybe because you don’t know how you’ll fare if you dare sneak a glance and he’s not looking at you. “You can go, Choso. You can walk away. I won’t get in the way. But nothing you can do will make me stop until I’ve soaked y-your sheets.”

You’re working your tentative digits in, smothering it in your warm wetness, hoping the minimal light from his desk lap does the job in showing him just how wet you are. 

“What have you even been doing in h-here?” Without sensing it, you know the conversational tone of your voice is baffling to him; who finger fucks themselves and asks about things on the same subject line as the weather?

A conflicted noise comes from your roommate. He’s torn between leaving for everyone’s sake and staying to see this through. “Sleeping.”

The man has a talent of hibernating at will – his younger brother boasted, when you used to babysit him, how he can sleep anywhere, no matter how uncomfortable the environment. And since he’s moved in, you’ve been able to verify, on numerous occasions, that talent. So you believe the bastard when he effectively says he’s been weaponising said talent against you.

Keen to not dry up from your annoyance, you ask, with a slightly pornographic voice, “Are you looking, Cho? Can you see my pussy? Is she pretty?”

Raspy, he replies, “Yeah…she’s pretty.”

Voice much closer than before, you have no idea where exactly he is and you can’t look. You’re not brave enough to find out, so instead, you slide a hand up your shirt, nails teasing your skin which rise with the cool air that you welcome in. Groping a tit, you realise he’s never seen your body in great detail, not even now that you’re laid out like a buffet he won’t touch. 

Sure, he’s seen glimpses of your bare body – he saw a lot after a nude was mistakenly sent to the wrong person, or the right, depending on who you ask. Not to mention all other ‘accidental’ run-ins you’ve had in the bathroom before and don’t talk about, not even when you can hear low grunts and wet sounds coming from his room shortly after.

It’s clear Choso is no stranger to your body, how could he be when he routinely gets off on the scent of your panties, sucking the gusset into his mouth like it’s his last meal?

But this is different: those other times had been mere peeks, slivers of parts of your body then hastily covered. Now, he’s seeing the direct source of all those panties he covets so much and he’s seeing it wet and swollen, hearing the growing squelches, can watch exactly how you like to be touched, what makes you moan the loudest, your back arch up suddenly, and can note just how many circles he’d need to rub on your clit to have your legs shaking. This has to be enough to get your way and if it isn’t, you don’t know what you’ll do. 

“She’s upset with you, Cho…”

A pained noise escapes his lips. “She is?”

“Uhuh. You’ve been neglecting her, ignoring the -ah- panties she’s left for you. Do you h-have any idea how much work she’s put into them, getting them real wet after she got all messy for you?”

You gasp, eyes flying open.

He’s there.

He’s standing at the foot of the bed, towering over you.

Almost as if you can sense him on a deeper level than visual or auditory, you, or rather, your body, knew he’s come closer, unable to stay too far away. Only appearing as a shadow, you can’t quite see his exact expression; the desk lamp is behind him, casting you in a barely-there warm glow whilst leaving him void of any light. Suddenly too aware of the absurdity of it all, your legs quiver, pulling shut like a reflex. 

Arms dart out.

Prying them open, his cold hands grip your knees. “Don’t close them. I can’t tell her I’m sorry if you hide her away, right?”

“You w-want to see?” Collecting your wetness with wobbly fingers, you lift them up to show him, parting your digits to display the translucent stringiness of your juices.

Something heavy thumps to the ground. 

Choso’s on his knees, ring-clad hands sliding down your thighs, so close to where you’re hottest. Much closer to you now, literally within a hair's breadth away, you can see him better; eyes glazed over and mouth parting, you recognise that look. It’s the look he gets when he’s deep in pleasure, reason and rationality no longer orbiting his world.

No, you’re not dealing with normal Choso right now — the Choso that picks you up from wherever you are, no matter the time, that brings home plushies he won for you, who won’t eat dinner unless it’s with you, who can’t seem to fucking sleep unless he hears a goodnight from you. 

The one between your legs is an animal, driven completely by instincts, chasing a predator he wants as prey. His fingers, much longer than yours, dig into the plush of your thighs, squeezing to feel the smooth flesh welcome him. He can break your bones, can pin you to the bed, against the wall, can smother your face in the pillow, ignore your begging, and sink his cock in mercilessly if he deigned, if he thought you’d want him to. 

“You wanna say sorry, Cho? To her? To me?” He nods with no hesitation, loose locks of hair flying with the movement. “Then, tell her how good she tastes. Tell her how much you missed her. Plead your case.”

Diving in, your fingers are swallowed into his mouth, tongue parting them so he can get in the nooks and crevices, suckling all of your essence and being sure not to taste a drop. His eyes roll back just as vibrations tickle your skin; he’s groaning, sucking hard, clutching your wrist in an iron-clad hold in case you tease him by pulling away. “S-sweet. She tastes sweet. Missed her….missed you. So much. Ah, fuck…she tastes so much better like this –fresh a-and warm. I c-can’t think, can’t –hah, I need to taste from the source, need more, p-please.”

You snatch your fingers away, smearing his own saliva all over his face when you grip his chin to stop him from face-planting into your cunt. “No, Choso. That’s too nice for someone who mopes instead of talking through his problems. You’ll stay there and watch me touch myself. You won’t get to feel how hot and tight I am inside, not with your tongue, your fingers, and certainly not with your cock.”

“I just watch?” He scoffs, downright offended. 

Playing with your clit again, you work yourself back up. “If you’re a well-behaved puppy, then maybe I’ll let you clean my fingers.”

“Yes,” he promises, scooting closer and keeping his eyes trained on the way your slender fingers rub in tight circles. “I’ll be good.”

“Prove it.”

Choso knows what you mean and his audible gulp brings a smile out of you. What you’re asking is cruel, mean, and possibly beyond evil but you know he’ll do it. He’s proven time and time again that there are no limits to the lengths he’ll go to to satisfy his depravity, nothing is too shameful, too humiliating when it comes to you. Even when he’s supposed to be mad at you, he can’t take his eyes off your body, can’t resist thumbing the drop of sweat running down your thigh and drinking the taste of you, and he won’t leave, though the door’s unlocked, not when you’re here, finally in his bed. 

He barks. 

Once. 

Twice. 

It’s enough. Your back arches off the bed, fingers sliding down to curl inside you once more, pressing up, hard, against your gooey walls.

Sniffing your hand, he sure does act like a dog. He’s chasing your scent, drooling over it actually, and you can tell by his grunts, and the sounds of violent shuffling, that he’s fisting his cock, timing it to your thrusting. “When I take my fingers out to rub my clit, are you rubbing your slit, Choso? Hmm? Are we in sync? Are you imagining it’s my hand, my tongue on your dick?”

“Yes,” he confesses. “Your hand’s too small for me, you’ll probably -hah- struggle to wrap it around my cock, but it’s okay, you can use your other hand a-and your mouth.”

“Do you -ngh!- think about that often? Do you imagine f-fucking my throat when you use my panties to jerk off?

His face falls on your thigh, cheek smushed against your flesh. You can feel his warm breath fanning over your sloppy cunt. Long lashes graze your skin, and when he turns ever so slightly to place a kiss there, you feel your walls squeeze around your fingers. “S-sometimes. The other times I imagine you riding my face — oh, you sound so pretty. I’ve heard you before, y’know? You touch yourself most right before your period. I-I listen outside the door.”

Laughing, you say, “You’re not exactly very quiet when you jerk off, Choso.”

“Hmm, you sound much better up close. Smell and taste better too.”

“You should remember that next time you decide to lock yourself away.”

Sneakily, he licks a stripe up your thigh, and when you don’t say a thing, focusing instead on the rhythm you’ve set inside yourself, he sucks up the droplet of pussy juice threatening to disappear between the cleft of your ass, groaning. “There won’t be a next time. Days without you felt like hell. I can’t do it again.”

“Hah, good,” you tease, unable to help yourself, “‘cause I. Missed. You. Too.”

Choso growls and, with your revelation, casts all niceties away.

Oh shit.

Brutal hands spread your legs far, suddenly bending you in half and baring you to his gluttonous gaze. Rings dig into your flesh, warming up. He’s eyeing your pussy, not with adoration and worship any longer, but with a voracious appetite – you’ve laid out a feast for him and he won’t deny himself any longer, not when you practically offered yourself on a silver platter.

A most welcome sacrificial lamb.

 “So fucking pretty.”

Fingers still inside, you’re frozen with shock and fear at the sharp glint in his dark eyes. That’s all the warning he gives you before he begins lapping at your covered pussy, tongue delving wherever it can reach, seeking whatever you can’t hide. Wet appendage slithers in gaps you can't cover fast enough. The tip of his tongue grazes your clit, your fluttering hole, your fucking ass until you hurriedly obscure every inch he manages to reach.

It’s forceful, feral, and there’s not a hint of humanity left in the man you see. Clamping your hand down onto your cunt, you attempt to do damage control. “No! Stop! I take it back.”

“Move your hand," he growls.

You don’t. 

Can’t.

“Move, please. I want to -hngh- taste you, want to f-feel you on my tongue.” He’s manically licking and sucking with no thought, face pressed as tightly between your legs as he can, like if he could burrow himself inside your pussy, he would. “Let me make you feel good. Let me make you cum, baby.” 

Your other hand flies down, desperately pushing his head away but he shakes you off. “Choso! Stop! This isn’t what we -ngh! oh fuck!- a-agreed on.”

Wrenching your arms away, he’s just about to smash his face into your sloppy pussy when you resort to using your feet, kicking him away by the shoulder. 

“No. Bad, Choso!" Legs pressed tight together, huddled by the headboard, you hold a pillow between him and yourself, hiding your body from his lustful glare. "You can’t just be a prick, ignoring me, starving yourself and then try to eat me out. That’s not how this works.”

His knee falls on the bed, then the other, and soon he’s crawling over to you, muscles on show rippling with barely restrained desire. Silky, black hair messy, out from their usual pigtails, contrasts with the shiny silver of his piercings. God, if he wasn’t baring his teeth at you like some kind of wolf on the prowl, you’d be knuckles deep in your cunt, intent on cumming to the sight…maybe you still can. 

“I want to taste you. Let me and I’ll forgive you.”

You smack him in the face with the pillow. “We’re way past that, asshole. Back up, you’re scaring me.”

Squealing, you’re dragged down the bed into a starfish position by the ankle. Choso slots himself between your legs, hands sliding underneath your thighs and bending them back so he can clearly see everything. His touch is firm, unyielding, but his thumb is rubbing soothing shapes into your skin. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know.” Growing breathless again, you watch him lie down on his stomach, hand coming down to, where you can only guess to be, his cock, hidden under his boxers. “But I can’t trust that you won’t get all scary again and try and fuck me.”

He smiles. “I won’t, not until you beg me.”

“Hey, fuck you, asshole. That’ll never ha–”

Interrupting you, he gets back into serious mode and says, almost cooing, “You didn’t get to cum, right? I’m sorry. I won’t get in the way anymore. Touch yourself. Cum on my sheets. I want to sleep with the scent of you around me."

When did the loser get so bossy?

Rolling your eyes, you do as he says but only because you were going to anyway. Fingers swirling in your essence, you focus on your swollen pussy, clit hard and throbbing. 

The bed is shaking a little; he’s rutting his cock into the mattress, eyes rolling back a little every time he takes a good inhale of your tangy scent. 

Still wet, getting back into the rhythm isn’t hard, not when he’s keeping his promise and you’re given the space to work yourself back up again. 

“Why didn’t you -hah- use the panties I left for you?” Embarrassed that your bribes hadn’t been accepted, your question comes out meek, shy, and totally pathetic. Choso doesn’t notice. 

He grunts, bed rocking a little faster when you rub at your clit with one hand and thrust inside with the other. “I did. I’d come out w-when you’re in your room or you’re out and -oh, God you’re so wet- smell them. They were the only things keeping me sane. K-knowing that you’re missing me too made me so happy.”

“H-how much longer were you even planning on going without seeing me?”

Sheepish, he answers, “I was seeing you. Just when you were sleeping. You snore a little. It’s cute. I like it when you sleep in those tank tops – it’s easy to pull it down and see your tits. They’re so pretty, by the way. So soft and heavy.”

Pussy pulsing, you know he can see the cream overflowing out of you at his confession. You’re already close, driven further and further by every word he uttered, by every reluctant flutter of his lashes, like he doesn’t want to miss a thing.

You need more.

Just a little more and you’ll both get what you want.

“Eat me out.”

“But you said I can’t.”

Back arching, you whine. “I know what I said but if you want me to -ngh!- cum all over your sheets then lick me. Suck on my clit. Fuck! I need it.”

Choso doesn’t need to be told again. He circles his arms around your thighs and wraps his lips around your bundle of nerves, making a nasty slurrrrrp! sound. You both roll your eyes at the same time. The vibrations his satisfied groans make sends lightning bolts up your spine. Oozing more wetness, his mouth descends down to lap up your juices, using his tongue to spread it around. It’s nasty, messy, and so so so good. 

A gasp is pulled out of you when his fingers worm their way inside your pussy at the same time he hollows his cheek to suck hard at your clit. 

“Fuck, you’re so -hngh!- tight inside. I’m too -slurrrrp!- big for you b-but you’ll let me fit it in anyways, right?”

You’ve seen his dick before – he’s big. Huge. Even soft, fresh from the shower, from having jerked off to your dirty clothes, it was still impressive. You’ve also seen his sinful grasp on his hard and leaking cock, albeit just a quick glimpse, when he had purposefully left the door open for you. The dangerous sight had been the subject of many of your self-care sessions; you’ve thought about how hard it’ll be to fit him in your mouth and especially in your pussy, how good all those veins would feel rubbing your walls, how many orgasms that pretty cockhead would pull after kissing your g-spot again and again and again. 

“Tastes so good, you’re -fuck, fuck, I’m close- amazing,” he rambles. Your essence is like a drug, forcing him deeper into madness, until he can no longer tell what he’s even saying. “IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou!”

“FUCK!”

You cum hard. All over his face. All over the sheets. Your legs squeeze his head tight, threatening to suffocate him. He doesn’t mind. He’s still sucking at your clit, pistoning his fingers inside of you, grinding it inside so he can bask in the gooey feel of your gummy walls. “Delicious…could d-die like this…”

A long groan trembles against you. The bed is rocking like crazy and when it stops, so does the spasming of your body. Through his orgasm, he elongates yours, pulling you to the very peak of pleasure. You both come down from your highs, panting desperately. 

"Oh, shit, that was good..." You're delirious, limbs beyond limp.

Shivering, you smack him on the head.

“Choso! S-stop!” He’s still sucking at your clit, making loud squelches. “Enough!”

When you pull him off by the hair, the sight has you clamping down on his fingers; his face is soaked, glistening with your pussy juices, his lips are swollen, cheeks flushed, and his eyes are completely glazed over. Shuddering, he doesn’t fight when you pull away and clamber off the bed. 

The man shakes, hips still humping the bed, driving himself into overstimulation as if on autopilot. His head falls onto the wet puddle, which he mouths at like a fish out of water. “Hmm, more…more…”

Tingling hard, you cup your poor pussy and wince at the soreness you don’t usually get when it’s just you. The asshole really did a number on you. He was lapping up your wetness for his own pleasure, drinking like you're the only thing that sustains him, like an addict finally getting their fill, like life is only now worth living because he had you in his arms, in his bed, held up to his face.

With a sigh, you retreat into your bedroom, leaving him in your combined mess. Emo can clean it up himself.

In the morning, he greets you with a full breakfast spread on the kitchen counter and a beaming smile. Gone are his dark circles, his hair’s tied up neatly, and he rambles about plans for the week like nothing had happened. "We should totally go watch that horror movie on Friday! And then we can have dinner after."

"Sure, but it's on you."

He pouts. "It's always on me."

"Are you complaining?"

Choso grumbles, "No..."

You eat like normal, joking and teasing.

And you think everything’s fine now, that you’ve gone back to the days before, and the depravity you two got up to last night can be stored away along with all the other shameful things that have gone on in the apartment that neither your friends and family, nor his, will ever come to find out. 

But, then he gets up, gathers the plates, gives you a peck on the cheek and asks:

“Same time tonight?”

[visforvengeance]

Where you been, baby?

Requested by: no one :)

Notes: and here’s stack!!!! So this can be read as a standalone or apart of a series. It’s kind of similar to the one for smoke but not exactly. This WILL be posted on AO3. Enjoy!

Warnings: mmm not smut exactly. But not sfw either ya know what I’m sayin. Ok. I didn’t necessarily feel any way about Mary as a character. She was just there tbh. But all love to Hailee, I love her down. There’s just some Mary slander here lmao

Smoke x reader

You could hear the music outside of the mill as clear as day. There had been bodies hanging around. Some dancing, some drinking, some…better left unsaid. You made your way to the entrance. You didn’t even get the option of waiting in line before Cornbread saw you and ushered you right on inside.

It looked just how you’d imagined inside. Warm lighting, joyous faces. It ignited something in you. Recognition. Reminiscence. Nostalgia. It had been a long, quiet time while the twins were gone. And, maybe that was for the better. But you couldn’t say you didn’t miss it.

As you were walking to the bar, you managed to lock eyes with one twin. Your twin, Stack. He had Mary hanging off of his arm, and he was mid-puff when he saw you. Mary had been too wrapped up in herself to notice that Stack had suddenly stopped paying attention to her and focused on you instead.

Still, you walked on until you reached it. Taking a seat beside the pair, ignoring Stack’s stare. You warmly greeted Annie,

“How ya doin', Annie?”

She beamed at you, pulling you over the bar to squeeze you into a hug. All of you had grown up close together, but you and Stack grew closer. You were each other’s first everything. And, because of that, you thought that meant it’d stay that way. But, no, it didn’t. You caught Stack with Mary one night, and it had been a cycle of heartbreak ever since then.

Elias obviously loved you more than her, more than anything. But with that realization came fear. The twins were on a warpath. And, he couldn’t have you there for it. He wouldn’t. So, he left it all. He knew it would hurt you. Hell, it even hurt him, too. But, it was for the best after all. Right?

“Lemme get a shot of whiskey, please.”

Annie began serving up your shot when you heard Mary speak up beside you.

“Well, look what the cat done dragged in.”

Annie tried to diffuse the situation because she knew how both of you could be. But, Stack just watched, intrigued. Everyone knew you didn’t start problems, but you sure as hell could finish them. And, Mary was always a problem.

“Now, Annie, wasn’t I just here minding my business?”

“Don’t y’all bring that mess in here. This is a celebratory night. Take it outside if y’all gon fight.”

You really hadn’t planned to fight. You were even willing to let it slide if Mary would just shut the hell up. But she never did know her place.

“No, Ms. Annie, it ain’t gon be no fighting tonight. I just came to congratulate the twins, give them a little warm welcome back home,”

You looked over to Stack, who still had his eyes only on you. He looked damn good, you’ll give him that. But, nothing more. He didn’t deserve to know just how much you missed him. And how much his leaving had affected you.

“Welcome home, baby. We missed you.”

Elias didn’t miss the wink you threw at him, nor did Mary.

“Oh, bitch, who do you think you walking in here like that?”

So foul-mouthed, that one. Almost like she was trying to compensate for something? Who knows. However, Stack wasn’t going to tolerate her disrespecting you. No matter how much she thinks he’s over you, that was never really the case.

It was always you. Only you. Why he had to go and fuck that up? He never fucking knew. But it’s just you.

While he shoved her out of the juke joint, you made your way to the dancefloor. Sammie had been playing on stage, and the whiskey had hit you harder and faster than you thought it would. You could feel the bass in your bones as the ground shook from the stomping and music.

You were in your own little world until you felt a body slide up against yours so perfectly you melded together. His warmth was what got you first. Next, the feeling of his hands all over you. Years of missing how they felt against your soft skin.

Then his scent circled around you. He smelled like smoke, alcohol, and the earth. It made you dizzy. He turned you around so you were facing him. Still so close together that you were breathing each other in. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this feeling.

“I really was only coming to say hi and welcome, you know.”

He wasn’t listening as his lips were on your neck, kissing and sucking, desperately trying to eat and inhale you at the same time.

“You wasn’t even gonna tell me you was back here, huh?”

His hands gripped at the fat of your ass, pulling you into him. You could feel his erection against your stomach. Still kissing. Still sucking. Still trying to devour you piece by piece.

“Elias..”

He stopped, resting his head on your shoulder. Inhale. Exhale.

Softly, “I was scared to see ya.”

Stack didn’t usually talk about his feelings, at least not with anyone other than his brother or you. So, it was no surprise when you were met with the softer, more vulnerable side of him than usual. And, it’d been so long since he could really talk about his feelings. The ones he couldn’t share with his big brother.

“I was scared.”

“Which time? When you left or when you came back?”

“Both.”

That was the first time in a long time that he’d been honest with anyone other than himself.

Your hand caressed his cheek, like how you used to when he was laid up in your bed. You forced him to look at you; he’d been doing so all night, but now the ground floor was more interesting.

“What were you so afraid of, Elias?”

Man, he really didn’t want to answer that. That’s a whole new layer of vulnerability that he’d have to learn to break down. One that no one had seen, not even you.

“How was I gon keep you safe? I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. So I left.”

You wanted to be mad at him. Be fucking angry like you should be. But, you just couldn’t.

“So, what about now? You gon leave me high and dry after tonight?”

He had just gotten back into your life, and neither of you wanted him out of it again. Stack knew you missed him more than you were willing to admit, and he’d get on his knees and beg for you to give him another chance if that’s what it took.

Maybe this new version of the two of you could work out better than before. But, what if you don’t? Were you willing to go through that heartbreak again? You refused to be someone’s second choice again. Not even for him.

“If we gon do this again, I need to know you ain’t gon leave me again.”

Elias would not make the same mistake twice, no matter what. He just got you back, and he’d do whatever it took to keep his baby right here with him.

“I ain’t going nowhere without you this time, girl.”

Your eyes lingered on his for a minute. Despite their usual hard exterior, the twins wore their emotions on their sleeves. It was never outright noticeable. But when Smoke was angry, there’d be a permanent scowl on his face. When Stack was sad, it was almost like he wasn’t connected with reality. Like he was detached.

What you saw on his face now was just truth. The man made promises, and he didn’t always keep them. But tonight, he’d decided that loving you how you should’ve been loved was something he’d do forever. Even on his last day on earth.

Your lips locked with each other, slow and passionate. There was curiosity, too. A bitter trace of sadness. But, a whole lotta want and need. Stack had decided from that moment on, regardless of what life threw at him, he was not going to suffer it through with you by his side.

[kurooh]

WICKED GAMES !

⊹₊˚. DESC — hawks is stuck at a dumpy strip club with dabi until you come along to help him in more ways than one. / or, hawks’ initiation and corruption, all at once.

wc. 8.8k

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, f! reader, stripper / strip club au, threesome, manipulation, spit roasting, oral [m/f rec], unprotected sex, public-ish sex, degradation, some alcohol, pussy slaps, creampie, rough sex.

hawks has better things to do than sit around with dabi, wasting his time in a dumpy strip club somewhere deep in the brightly lit maze of kabukicho. it didn’t surprise him in the least that he’d been dragged out this way, but it stresses him out, makes his feathers quiver with unease. he’s in too deep with the league, risking his public image just to appease someone who he considers half friend, half enemy. 

strip clubs are meant to be hot, enjoyable places; patrons are not typically agitated, unable to stop twitching in their seats. despite looking like it’s closing down from the outside, the club surprisingly booms with some life, including that of japan’s number two hero.

“throwing a tantrum, hero? as i recall, you agreed to come here if you lost the bet.”

dabi just likes to rub his luck into hawks’ face, electric blue eyes following each movement of his twitchy wings. he tends to write off all the movement, assuming that it’s just something that comes along with the quirk, just like his resistance to colder temperatures. feeling like he’s being pinned down by that sneer, hawks draws his wings in close to his back, shooting a golden glare at his snarky co-conspirator.

dabi couldn’t begin to understand any of the hero’s concerns about reputation and the press, or anything positive concerning the fickle public eye. all hawks needs are a few negative news reports and his cover as a two-timer is completely blown, leaving the public safety commission and the rest of the country in limbo. 

“you switched it up on me, dabi,” he purses his lips, miffed. “if i were in my right mind, i’d be gone by now.”

“too bad you’re in your left. you agreed to stay an hour, and you’re going to,” dabi smirks, pleased by any opportunity to get under hawks’ skin. he’s always got something to say, and he’s endlessly amusing—so damn easy to piss off or tease. a scarred arm is happily thrown around hawks’ shoulders, only aggravating him all the more. “now, loosen up and enjoy the fucking show.”

it’s uncomfortably hot in this establishment, all too humid for his liking. too many people are packed into the tiny club at once, and a miasma of sweat and sex hangs in the air, practically emanating from the shoddy walls. raunchy posters plastered around the club peel halfway off the walls and add nothing nice to the atmosphere, only making it look all the more trashy. fading bass booms out through the speakers, either because the song is coming to an end or because the speakers need to be replaced. not to mention, dabi’s like a bloodhound: picking up on traces of discomfort or annoyance and exploiting it in ways that will bring him the most entertainment. hawks rudely shrugs off the weight and tries not to act too sour, planning to block out his surroundings for the fifty five minutes he has left.

it’s bad in here, with every little noise making his wings tingle urgently—he can hear the pants of onstage strippers, the groans of men getting lapdances in the back, and footsteps in every single direction.

he lifts his drink with a small sigh, appreciating the cool burn that the alcohol leaves in its wake. the strippers on the stage shake some more ass to the fleeting beat before stuffing bills into their thongs and slipping off the stage to mingle with customers. hawks steals a glance toward dabi, searching his face for any interest in the scene unfolding before them. lazily leaning back in his chair, a foot propped up on the edge of the table, dabi swishes his whiskey around in the glass and regards the stage with an unreadable look.

god, this is so fucking annoying. hawks was dragged here and threatened, only for his abductor to not even end up enjoying himself. sulkily, he recounts the events of his relationship with dabi, finally able to focus now that all the noise starts to hush as an air of quiet settles over the club. dabi could be interested in corrupting him, leading him into a life full of nightly visits to strip clubs and shared cigarettes on public sidewalks; dabi also could’ve just taken him here because hawks had unintentionally admitted that he’d never been to a strip club over beers with the league. 

red stage lights melt into a mix of pink and purple. dabi sniffs, tipping back the rest of his whiskey and setting the glass down onto the table. at least the electrical system’s running well.

a quieter, darker song begins to play, melodic vocals flowing through the speaker. this is certainly a far cry from what had just been reverberating through the club, and some of the tension ebbs away from his tense shoulders. hawks isn’t familiar with this song; he hasn’t heard it through his feathers when heading down the streets beside endeavor, and doesn’t quite recognize the artist.

the barest expressions of awe are written across the faces of many of the club’s patrons, something that definitely piques his interest—sharp gold eyes flick over to dabi, just in time to catch the unmistakable lifting of the villain’s scarred lips. after spending so much time around him, hawks has come to memorize some of dabi’s many facial expressions; this isn’t his usual smarmy smirk or scowl he wears around his colleagues. 

of course he’d brighten up in a place like this! hawks has never seen that much appreciation when he goes out of his way to snag a bag of pretzels for that goddamn ingrate.

an annoyed huff slips out of him, and he looks toward the stage, chin propped up on his fist.

i left my girl back home, i don’t love her no more / and she’ll never fucking know that

a shadowy figure can be seen at the far back of the stage; draped in lace, you step out into the glow of the colorful lights, skin illuminated by hues of pinks and purples. you sway to the music, hooking a leg around the pole and giving a sultry spin that actually impresses hawks. each movement is purposeful and punctuated with an elegance he didn’t expect to see in a place like this. he gasps quietly, then covers it up with a hacking cough before dabi can look over, earning himself some unnecessary glares from nearby patrons.

the lace snugly hugs the curves and slopes of your body, standing out against your skin while your heels catch and reflect the overhead stage lights. through lidded eyes, you look out into the audience, allowing yourself to sway and swing against the pole in a way that is more tantalizing than it should be. you’re someone he’s never met, but judging by the way you carry yourself, you’re not just anyone—certainly not to the people in the club, who look on, just as entranced as he is. through his feathers, he can hear the bartender’s rag against a glass stop moving as they pause to watch you.

like a shooting star across the night sky, your eyes are twinkling as you skim over everyone in the sea of faces. it’s a clear sign of enjoyment, and your head tips forward to his table. a small smile tugs at your glossy lips when your eyes land on him, and warmth simmers under the skin of his cheeks. hawks’ charm is a practiced, polished facade, but he knows when someone’s checking him out, understands why they are. flattered, his red feathers puff out behind him.

bring your love, baby, i could bring my shame / bring the drugs, baby, i could bring my pain

hawks is suddenly grateful for dabi’s insistence to sit so close to the stage. he’d never admit it, but if he gets to finish watching this magnetic dance, this will have been his most successful trip to a strip club in his entire life. you’re not even finished and he already knows that nothing could ever top this; it’s hard not to look so damn starstruck, and as if dabi can hear his thoughts, he scoffs, shaking his head like he’s just thought of something funny.

bills are tossed onto the stage from all directions, floating in the air and drifting toward the floor like autumnal leaves. praise is given in the forms of drunken cheers, shrill wolf whistles, and money—none of it impedes your rhythm, heels clicking with each graceful step. another playful grind against the pole, and you’re strutting to the edge of the stage, hands set on your swaying hips. you’re close, close enough for hawks to catch a whiff of sweet perfume and steal a glance at the intricate lace adorning the edge of your panties. 

you’re some kind of angel, too alluring to be just human. everything about you is too graceful to have been learned, too fucking perfect to be normal. he notices that he’s breathless, feathers absorbing the sounds of your soft breaths and delicate footwork across the floor.

just let me motherfuckin’ love you / listen, ma, i’ll give you all i got / get me off of this

for a moment, you bask in the limelight, chest rising and falling just enough for him to notice. hawks reaches for his glass, covering up the lower half of his face with the wide rim to hide the flush high on his cheekbones. you turn, heading back to the pole, but you make sure to throw him a heated look over your shoulder. it’s as if you’re both clued in on a secret, and the idea of sharing anything with you makes him sick with desire. a drink, a handshake, a kiss—he inhales sharply, wanting to focus on the rest of your dance.

you drop into a squat, glossy lips parting for breath as your thighs spread open widely, panties threatening to tug too far to the side. once you’ve allowed the visual to sink in longer than necessary, only inviting more tips and cheers, you sway to each side to bring your knees closer, a giggle slipping out of you when you’re pulling yourself to your feet. it doesn’t last for long; the air is practically punched out of hawks’ lungs when you swish your hips to the music, curling a leg around the pole to perform an impressive whirl around.

so tell me you love me, only for tonight / only for the night / even though you don’t love me

his wings are tingling by the time you slide to the floor with an arch of your back, something bittersweet rising on his tongue. he’s frustrated, so frustrated—he wants to talk to you, get to know you better in a private room in the back. talking would be better than a dance, but he definitely wouldn’t turn you down if you offered. 

by the time the dance inevitably ends, hawks feels like he’s crashing back down to earth like a meteor, blood running hot and thrumming hard in his ears. if he could, he’d keep watching, soaking in the sight of you and letting it dominate his thoughts. it’s unusual that he’s so bothered by something like this, something of dabi’s doing; he’d allow himself to think further into it if he wasn’t so busy focusing on the swing of your hips as you head down the little steps at the corner of the stage. you’re looking at him like he’s a bullseye you’re aiming for with a bow and arrow, eyes set on him as you ignore the advances and conversation starters of other patrons.

hawks is caught in your orbit, wanting nothing more than to spin closer in ways that would likely spoil some, if not all of his reputation as the no. 2 hero of japan. out of his control, a few pesky feathers start to twitch noticeably as you come closer, the soft sound of your footsteps becoming louder against the booming club music. what will he say to you? how can he come off in the best way possible, make himself look a little better than he is? his mind is racing with deliberations, so many coming all at once that he doesn’t quite notice the way you step past him until it’s too late.

his head swivels to the side, where he takes in the scene with indignance and disappointment flaring hotly in his chest. the angel of the club—his nickname for you, since he doesn’t know your name yet—is fraternizing with dabi! hawks blanches, all the color draining from his face. don’t tell me, he thinks desperately, you were looking at dabi the whole time. it feels like he’d been swinging high and happily on a swing, and the chains have just broken, sending him catapaulting to the ground. he wants to shriek in embarrassment, frustration practically seeping through his pores as he struggles to haul his jaw up and off the floor.

“look what the cat dragged in,” you say, voice lilting teasingly; it pulls him back to reality, and hawks is suddenly aware of how long he’d been spacing out. “you two must be good friends, if he got you to come down here.”

dabi, the ‘he’ in question, lets out a huff and nudges the tip of his boot against an empty seat at the table. “we’re not friends, and he lost a bet.”

“i lost a bet,” hawks echoes, trying to shake life back into his droopy feathers. “sunshine over here threatened to incinerate me, so i couldn’t get out of it.”

you look toward his wings, admiring them unabashedly. it’s an odd feeling, having the no. 2 hero of japan this close to you—and in a strip club, no less. it’d be a shame to see something so beautiful be reduced to ash, all over some kind of stupid bet. hawks doesn’t miss the frown you direct toward his colleague, lips tugging downwards in disapproval. 

dabi grunts, tone derisive. “you’d feel the same if you were stuck with this chicken all day.”

hawks lets the jab slide, clearing his throat as though he never heard it at all. “i’ve never seen so many people quiet down when a dancer gets on the stage.” you offer him a little smile, noticing the barely concealed awe in his voice. 

“you’ve never seen the inside of a strip club, birdbrain,” dabi’s quick remark is like a sharp needle, sticking right into a vein in his forehead. obviously, he’s trying to make hawks look stupid in front of you, because you’re friends or lovers, something he hasn’t distinguished quite yet. the vein throbs, inspiring a headache that dabi’s entirely at fault for. hawks’ nose whistles softly when he breathes in, an apologetic grin splitting across his face. he’s not sure what he’s trying to apologize for—how awkward he is, or dabi’s rudeness that you’re probably familiar with.

he plays it off with a breezy laugh. “should’ve taken me sooner, dabi.”

this gets the villain’s attention. his head lifts up and off the backing of the chair, electric blue eyes pinning hawks down, searching his face intently—searching for a shred of sincerity or truth. dabi’s unable to believe it, smirking as the cogs in his brain function, certainly coming up with some kind of competition. “oh, don’t tell me,” he starts, a scornful cackle bursting out of him, “you’re tired of toeing the line, hero?”

with a raise of his brows, hawks slips back into his casual charm. he may not wear anything but a visor on his face, but this is his mask; unlike the material of heroes’ costumes, this one rarely comes off. he looks at dabi, gold meeting turquoise as he challenges the villain right back. “yeah. i have been, since before i got involved with the league, dabi.”

back and forth.

push and pull.

this is simply how it is. their dynamic is not practiced or understood in either black or white; you’re lucky to witness it in all its intensity, and the air warms with what is undoubtedly dabi’s quirk. their staring match lasts until dabi slams his hands down on the table, a manic smile tugging at the corners of his lips. hawks doesn’t even look startled, his expression cool and open, as if to welcome whatever challenge dabi’s come up with.

a drunken passerby burps into your face, fingertips brushing against your shoulder for less than a millisecond before you’re swept away by hawks. his reflexes are as fast as the papers say.

“want—wanna dance,” he slurs, offering you 150 yen clutched between stubby fingers. 

dabi’s on his feet, palms sparking with flashes of blue flames. he’s in the guy’s face, but doesn’t have to say anything to make him stumble off toward his obnoxious group of friends. hawks takes a step away from you, giving you some space as he starts to sit down again, but he is unceremoniously yanked away from the chair by a strong, scarred hand. 

“you’re tired of playing hero, huh?” his voice rumbles in his throat, intimidating. “fucking prove it.”

hawks’ nose crinkles. dabi’s palms grow warm, gripping tighter around a jacketed forearm. 

“private room. now.”

you lead the venture to the back of the strip club, passing closed doors on either side until you finally arrive at the room at the very end of the hallway. dabi’s simmering, wound up too tight by the time you get inside; hawks watches as you lock the door behind you, likely questioning how common this practice is. 

carelessly, dabi throws himself onto the couch, just barely spreading his knees. 

hawks is first to break the silence. “so, dabi? we’re all here now, what’s your master plan?”

“why, you scared?” dabi flashes him a wily smile as his eyes meet yours. this back and forth isn’t quite apart of your typical routine, but you step past hawks, skin brushing lightly against his feathers. he tenses, body rippling slightly as he tries to muffle something like a shudder; for someone so composed, he seems to struggle with controlling some of his physical reactions to different stimuli.

no wonder dabi’s always toying with him.

hawks scoffs, choosing not to dignify dabi’s vitriol with a clear response. “i’m thinking about heading out. we agreed on this earlier, i don’t have to stay longer than an hour.” for further effect, he tilts up his chin, but he just looks petulant.

you take your seat on dabi’s lap, facing his colleague with doe eyes and lips jutted out in a pout. as expected, he bristles, willing himself to resist; he’s the sole captain of the skies, all day, every day—seeing him squirm as the knowledge that he isn’t control washes over his face ignites a wicked delight in your chest.

“i was hoping you’d stick around, number two,” you barely arch your back, and the band of lace sitting beneath your tits hikes up a few precarious inches. “aw, i haven’t even given you a dance yet.”

dabi emanates unnatural heat through his pants, temperature soaring as you egg hawks on. it’s clear that he’s jealous, a little possessive—but this is all apart of the game. as a hero, he needs to prove himself, show how he can endure the mildest fall from grace; mingling with dabi, at a strip club, is barely scratching the surface.

“it’s considered bad form to leave a strip club without at least one dance, hawks.”

it’s the way you say his name, the way you’re able to almost hypnotize him with the simplest of movements; this serves as the final blow in a sequence of needling attacks, finally breaking away the first wall. his ears tinge pink at the tips as he comes forward, taking a cautious seat beside dabi.

you turn around, moving further up dabi’s thighs and facing him although your eyes settle on hawks. each movement is just as perfect as it was on stage, much closer and all the more mesmerizing now that you’re finally gracing him with your attention. 

“keep watching her and you’ll wait twenty minutes longer,” dabi grouses, although he makes no move to impose the same sort of restriction onto you. “i’ll fuckin’ make sure of it, birdie.”

hawks’ gold eyes move from you to dabi, who he observes rather obviously. it’s hard to pretend he doesn’t want you to be entirely focused on him, but he’ll be damned if he takes these ridiculous demands lying down. he’s a bird, not a dog. 

“you’re so rude, dabi,” you giggle, playfully sticking your tongue out as you push yourself up and off of his lap. the villain is affronted, clearly bothered by your sudden absence and uncharacteristic focus on someone else. “this is my room, don’t forget that.”

pressed back against the couch, hawks’ sensitive feathers puff up, indicating his smug triumph. you’ve chosen him over dabi, for the first time tonight—he’s too excited to concern himself with how long he’ll have your favor. it takes everything he has to bite his tongue and avoid making a quip, for fear of dabi possibly taking it to heart and burning down the strip club just to make a point.

there are two major differences that distinguish the lapdance you were giving dabi and the one that you are currently giving hawks. first, you’re seated atop his crotch and pressing your chest against his. second, you’re giving him your full attention and even going so far as to nudge at or under his jaw. this is his seventh heaven, and dabi’s second circle of hell. 

“oh, i—” hawks begins softly, already struggling to form a coherent sentence with you grinding all over his lap to the low music flowing into the room. it’s a smooth, sensual song much like the one you’d performed to earlier, and it only amplifies the experience more. “i didn’t quite catch your name.” 

dabi snorts loudly, knee knocking into his. then, not so quietly, he mutters, “dumbass.”

you’re completely unfazed. “i didn’t get yours either.”

“hawks,” he tries, cheeks starting to burn under your gaze. “but you already know that.”

“that’s not your real name, hero,” it doesn’t take long for him to understand what you’re playing at. eye for an eye, quid pro quo. “tell me yours and i’ll tell you mine.”

you half expect him to actually do it. anyone could see how infatuated hawks is with you—they could also see the way you’re playing him like a violin, pausing in between notes to make it a little less obvious. you learned from the best, after all; many of dabi’s tricks make up your arsenal.

he chews his lip, blood rushing between his legs as he devises a way to hedge around the demand. “another time, then?”

it makes you laugh, but the sound is not as derisive as dabi’s. hawks is cute, too new to the strip club for his own good, and so damn naive. this is the last place for someone seeking honesty or connection to come to, especially this far out in kabukicho. 

you’re not as much of a stranger as hawks believes you are. you’ve heard everything about him from dabi, whispered low and honest in the privacy of dark alleyways or this very room over a shared cigarette after sex. his breezy, casual demeanor is just as it was described to you, and his tendency to fluster when razzed enough is not at all an exaggeration.

“see, that’s the thing about strip clubs,” you say, gently skimming a manicured nail over his cheek, “you’re supposed to embrace the fantasy, hawks. being a hero or a villain means nothing here.”

hawks can no longer hear through his feathers, and is finding it difficult just to hear over his own heartbeat. blood pounds in his ears, sounding something like a beating drum as it blocks out dabi’s annoyed comments and the impatient tapping of his boot on the floor. the day’s tension slowly filters out of his muscles, and his body’s a little less rigid under yours, anxiety tapering away all thanks to you.

rolling your hips against his and settling both hands on his chest, right above his heart, you lean in purposefully. to give him a kiss, tell him a secret, or maybe even share a meaningful silence with him—he doesn’t expect you to do almost everything, all at once.

“you ought to come here more often,” you murmur, dangerously close to the shell of his ear. “i’d take care of you like this any time.”

if it wasn’t for this infiltration mission, hawks would drop everything and come whenever his feathers tingled at the thought of you. however, it is crucial that he is careful not to attract negative attention or do anything too out of the ordinary; frustrated, his teeth dig into his lower lip.

“i can’t just come here whenever i want.”

“hawks,” just saying his name commands his undivided attention. in an instant, his surroundings become an unimportant blur and he’s only focusing on you. “you’re always in control, aren’t you? hasn’t the thought of temporarily letting go ever crossed your mind, pretty bird?”

here we go, he thinks, although warmth flares in his chest. it’s already enough that dabi doesn’t ever stop with the bird nicknames, and now you’re starting up the same kind of thing. 

your nose brushes against his neck, and your voice softens to a volume intended for his ears only. “doesn’t it feel good to be something other than perfect?”

god, yes. 

his memories and thoughts become hazy at the corners when he’s in your presence, and hawks is losing the sight of the lines he’s drawn in the sand. maybe you’re right; maybe he can shed his learned, polished persona in exchange for something more real here with you.

sweet perfume curls in the air when your head moves up and away from his neck, something daring flashing across your face. it’s the kind of look that tells him you don’t expect him to say or do much, although you clearly want him to—he’s leaning in, preparing to prove you wrong, and everything’s beginning to fall into place all at once.

you are promptly tugged away, and his lips drag along your cheek, having missed the kiss.

“kissing him before me?” dabi tuts, easily seating you on his lap and guiding you toward his mouth with a rough grip on your chin. “thought i told you how much i hate being betrayed, baby.”

hawks stares. he stares so hard his eyeballs grow dry, begging him to blink or at the very least turn away from such a terrible sight.

dabi snickers against your mouth; you moan into his, eyelids fluttering shut as his hands skim the expanse of your back, fingernails grazing against soft skin. for a moment, heat simmers dangerously below the surface, desperately seeking to release ultrahot steam. 

hawks’ hand finds dabi’s thigh, and he makes sure to dig into the covered flesh, squeezing hard. the villain pulls away with a laugh, a glossy string of spit connecting your lips to his. his fingers slip under the lacy band of your underwear, allowing him to shamelessly grope your ass.

dabi reads hawks like a picture book, a smarmy smirk tugging at his mouth. “shit, you’re out of your goddamn mind if you thought you’d be her first kiss.”

“what happened to proving myself?” hawks asks, defensiveness creeping into his voice. “this whole thing was such a joke.”

“take her from me,” dabi goads, tugging a hand out of your underwear to land a sharp slap across your ass. the impact makes you squeal in surprise, hips wiggling against his own. “go ahead and fuckin’ take her from me, hawks.”

and he does just that, accepting the challenge without a shred of hesitation.

hawks kisses you hard, a gloved hand rising to the back of your neck to gingerly hold on while the tip of his tongue swipes at your lower lip. it’s fast, and the kiss spirals quickly; it was never chaste to begin with, but damn—he’s probably doing all of this just to royally piss off dabi. teeth clink against teeth, but it doesn’t deter him in the least, not when he’s already thrown caution to the wind.

your tongue swirls with his and you moan, dragging your hips over the obvious bulge in dabi’s pants. it catches nicely against the thin material of your panties, and heat burns its way through your body, pooling right in your gut. even when hawks groans, pushing closer, dabi doesn’t interfere just yet. they’re simply testing each other, seeing how far they can go before the other snaps; it’s expected from their natural rivalry.

you’re dizzy by the time you part for air, lips slick with spit and skin tingling from the scratch of his stubble. dabi regards his colleague with a face that’s half impressed, half pissed—this is the only way he expresses approval with hawks. 

“didn’t think you had it in you, birdie,” dabi’s words are dripping with condescension as he hooks his fingers under the band of lace again. without being asked, you lift your hips off of his lap, wet arousal soaking through the fabric and clinging to your cunt in sticky tendrils as he slides the material down your thighs. the garment is carelessly tossed to the floor. “so fuckin’ messy for me, baby.”

he swipes a finger through your folds and sticks it into his mouth, making a show of swirling his tongue around it. hawks’ face is beautifully flushed, strokes of pink on his cheeks slowly spreading to his neck; his eyes gleam hungrily as he watches dabi, too interested to pull away. his pupils are large, expanding splotches of black against molten honey; his eyes are glazing over with something primal, characteristic of a bird of prey.

dabi gestures indiscriminately, a hand flipping to the side. you adjust yourself, still sitting on dabi’s lap but in a way that allows hawks to directly see the mess between your legs.

“i – dabi, please,” a whimper tumbles forth from your lips, voice soft and desperate. hawks is rock hard. “i want—i need you.”

the simple correction gets hawks’ heart racing faster than it should. you’re not even talking to him, but everything about your plea is fucking delicious. it’s the spread of your plush thighs, the excited rise and fall of your chest, the slickness of your eager cunt, and the way your eyes are lidded with desire. to be wanted—needed, by one person and on such an intimate level, is something he wouldn’t mind in the least.

dabi’s rough fingertips ghost along the tender skin of your inner thighs and he barks out a low laugh. “is this all for me?”

of course it isn’t, and he knows that. hawks had a hand in this too, after all.

his fingers are so close to where you need them to be, and you nod urgently, not wanting to risk losing his touch when you’ve almost got it. but he smacks your cunt instead, tightly holding you against his chest when a sob tears out of you, whole body thrashing in response to the unexpected impact.

“why don’t you ask hawks to get you off, huh?”

fresh tears gleam in your eyes, threatening to spill over and cascade down your cheeks. hawks feels a twinge of both pride and sympathy in his chest when you raise your chin, looking at him like you’re desperate to be wrecked by his hand. sitting up on your elbows, you spread your thighs once more, bra hiking up an inch to expose a sliver of the lower half of your tits.

“hawks,” you begin imploringly, cheeks quickly growing hot, “p-please, put your mouth on me.”

“i got you,” he coos, trying to sound smooth although the pitch of his voice betrays him. hawks adjusts himself appropriately, bends forward for you; his wings twitch as he works himself between your legs, pausing to fully take you in. there are still traces of your sweet perfume, wafting through the air and telling him you’d sprayed some right between your legs.

he sucks your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the swollen bud experimentally at first. despite his reputation, hawks hasn’t been with that many women—he’s still new to sex in some ways, but he’s seen enough porn, hasn’t he? technique matters, he thinks, but an eagerness to both learn and please should be more important, right? you gasp sharply, breath hitching in your throat when he finally gives you that long-awaited bliss you’ve been dying for since stepping out onto the stage.

the whole time, you’d been performing a flawless dance to dabi’s favorite song. it’s a sacred ritual, implicitly understood between the two of you; to patrons, it is simply another show for cash.

your fingers push through blond curls, tugging nicely when hawks’ spit-slicked fingers slide into you. he can feel the sticky ripple of your walls, gummy and hot as you bear down around him; it’s impossible not to imagine what this would feel like around his cock. you’re panting now, hips weakly thrusting upwards as you push his face further into your pussy, each stroke of his tongue scratching a lustful itch in your brain.

an irritated sigh slips out of you when he pulls up for air, bushy brows tugging in concern. it’s not like you’re verbally guiding him, so he’s not sure if he’s doing this the way you want him to. 

“is this how you want—”

hawks is unable to finish his sentence, because dabi interferes, once again. he cups the back of the hero’s head, careful not to snag any staples, and slams him down hard enough to nearly break his nose. 

this bitch, hawks thinks, already predicting the shape of a nasty bruise in the center of his face. 

“can’t even follow a simple order,” dabi goads, a self satisfied grin stretching across his face. “she told you to put your fucking mouth on her pussy, birdbrain.”

hawks’ fingers curl, pressing right into your sweet spot. he supposes that perhaps this isn’t the time to ask any clarifying questions; clearly, neither you nor dabi have the patience or interest to answer. this room isn’t a place for tenderness, and despite your allure, the sex is entirely meaningless. he remembers where he is—a shabby strip club somewhere in the district of kabukicho, a place where morals are left at the door like shoes—and hardens.

dabi’s hand remains where it is, and listening to hawks’ gasps for breath every now and then doesn’t seem to phase him in the least. you shudder as he eats your pussy, heels digging into his shoulders as a litany of moans spill out from your lips. euphoria shoots through your veins, curling through your limbs in a way that is thoroughly intoxicating; from what you can see of hawks’ face, his cheeks are glossy with your slick. his nose is red, probably still throbbing from when it was smashed against your pubic bone.

he continues to drink you in thirstily, as if he’s been without water for days. 

“hawks,” you gasp, whimpering around his name, “fuck, you’re so good. oh my god—yeah, yes, right fucking there.”

curses just keep falling from your lips, a wayward praise embedded in each word. you’re twisting in dabi’s lap and using hawks solely to get off through little humps of your hips against his face or by grinding into his fingers. he doesn’t even notice the embarrassing way he’s been rutting against the couch cushions until he shifts and feels a growing wet spot in his boxers; all the more reason to shed all of his clothes and let them join your panties on the floor.

another curl and flex of his fingers before he draws them back, beginning to scissor them in and out of your fluttering cunt.

the wet, squelching sounds are amplified through his feathers. they fill the room, his ears, and his entire head. hawks is able to acutely hear the pounding of all three hearts, the heaviness in his own breathing, and the silent creaking of the couch beneath all the weight. if the three of you were to end up fucking on top of the junky piece of furniture, it’d end up giving out pretty quickly into the endeavor.

one tear pours down your cheek and is swiftly followed by many more. “nghhh, oh my god, ‘m gonna cum, please don’t stop—”

your back arches off the couch and dabi’s lap, hips jerking erratically as all the euphoria hits you at once. hawks’ fingers are pushed out of you as you cum hard, whole body trembling as you ride out the pleasant wave; his face is shoved deeper into your cunt, and yet he still makes quick work of everything you have to offer him. after all, it’s the polite thing to do when treated to a meal.

dabi only lets him up when you start to whine, rearing your hips away from all the overstimulation. hawks raises his head, breathless and sputtering for air; he fixes his colleague with a teary-eyed glare. “what, dabi? trying to kill me now?”

the prominent bulge between his thighs speaks volumes otherwise. chest heaving, hawks scoots back, the lower half of his face shiny with your cum. it’s a lewd sight, the kind that makes your cheeks burn as you realize just how empty your pussy is—and how much you want to be stuffed full.

“not just yet, birdie,” dabi smiles dangerously, tilting his head to the side with an almost predatory gleam in his striking turquoise eyes. “looks like someone still wants you around.”

you mewl when his palm lightly smacks against your sensitive clit, sparks of both pain and pleasure shooting up your spine. slowly, you sit up on your knees to look at hawks with such need in your eyes he feels himself melting inside. “come here, hawks.”

oh, fuck. you’re so goddamn pretty, and although your words were framed as a request, there wasn’t much of a choice for him—he’d be out of his mind to deny you.

he comes closer, letting his eyelids fall shut as you pull him into a kiss, manicured nails lightly raking along his jaw and against his stubble. the personification of unattainable, you’re dabi’s favorite sin—and yet you kiss someone else so gently, as if you’ve been waking up by his side day in and day out. hawks doesn’t register or react to an unbuckling belt, or the slam of the metal against the floor.

rough palms stroke over your back, fingertips faintly pressing into the dimples there. dabi only laughs when you gasp into hawks’ mouth, the sound muted against his tongue; he continues to venture on, slipping his hands past your sides until he splays his fingers against your thighs. you’re feeling up hawks, pressing your hands to the hard lines of clear cut abs and wispy hair trailing up his stomach.

“you’re such a slut,” dabi leans in, sucking the tender skin of your neck between his teeth as his voice drops into a low growl. “just so goddamn greedy for dick, baby.”

why is he talking to you like that? hawks can’t help but feel indignant, close enough to smell the smoke and petroleum jelly on dabi’s skin. once, he mentioned using it before he goes to bed—something about moisturizing the staples so they don’t tear his skin as easily. hawks, heroic at heart, is ready to pull back and question dabi, until he feels and hears your responding moan against his lips. 

you allow dabi to push you forward onto all fours, lips falling away from hawks’ despite being still connected with a sticky string of spit. he thumbs it away while dabi spits onto his own cock and teasingly rubs the tip between your ass cheeks—when did he take his dick out?—some kind of warm up to get you begging.

“dabi, come on,” you’re just so easy that hawks actually starts to understand dabi’s degrading comment, the dynamic between you and him. it’s something like his own, except there’s the sex and strip clubs. “i can’t – oh my god, jus’ fuck me already.”

just for that demanding, bratty tone, dabi heats up his palm and smacks it against your ass, nodding to himself when you shriek, unintentionally jerking back against his cock. 

“always fuckin’ talking too much.”

“fuck you,” you bite out rudely, while hawks divests himself of his boxers. he swallows as his cock bobs in the warm air, not sure what to think when you look at it with this unreadable expression on your face. hawks is supposed to be a people person, the kind that can understand body language and the particular tells that every single person has, too natural to hide.

if he focuses hard on his feathers, spreading out his wings, he can almost discern the sound of wetness in your mouth. saliva slicks up your tongue and throat, and he realizes that you’re not judging the leftward curve of his cock, but instead sizing it up and getting ready for it.

“yeah, i’m trying to,” dabi grunts, cursing under his breath. “god, fuck.”

then he notices the unusual quiver of hawks’ vermilion wings, the puffing of his feathers, and the bright flush high on his cheeks. it’s pretty much spread to the hero’s chest and dabi just wonders how embarrassed his colleague must be. out of his depth in a place he’d never voluntarily go to, about to fuck someone he’s hasn’t formally met or introduced himself to, and with dabi of all people on the other side, directly facing him. dabi’s eyes meet his, the look lasting as long as the flash of a digital camera, and a smugness swells in his chest.

hawks hasn’t quite proved himself yet, but he will. 

you complain again, although your heart-filled eyes are glued to hawks’ cock.

he inhales sharply through his nose, feeling the metal piercings grow warm with his aggravation. “just shut her up already, hawks.”

hawks slips his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up so he can look at you; desire swims in pools of gold, his eyes pouring into yours. “guess you’re the boss. open wide for me, baby.”

the head of his thick cock is leaking with sticky precum that gets onto your lips when he nudges his hips forward, a sigh escaping him at the contact. you do open wide, practically drooling by the time his heavy cock is sitting against your tongue; it’s a tight fit, but goddamn is it worth the stretch—a few stray feathers fall away from his wings, littering the floor. his head tips back, and the rosy column of his throat gleams with sweat under the light; the number two hero of japan looks nothing less than appetizing.

despite the gagging and sting of tears in your eyes, you power through, pushing further and further. each inch is one step closer to heaven, which he finally reaches at the back of your throat. hawks’ cock throbs, and he shakily pushes a hand through his hair, shoving it out of his face.

“isn’t she just impressive?”

you start to choke, teary lashes fluttering, when dabi finally presses his own cock inside of you. it’s long, fraught with veins, and big enough to leave you feeling full for days afterward—body and mind. an obscene mixture of hawks’ spit and your slick gathers on dabi’s cock as he grips your hips and pushes in, the heated silver spheres along his length dragging deliciously against your walls. 

in the beginning, when you’d first seen dabi’s cock, both worry and excitement coursed through you. the ladder of silver piercings embedded along the underside of his cock was nothing short of intimidating; in retrospect, there wasn’t much point in worrying. he still split you open and fucked you until you forgot your name; the piercings are only a lucky addition to the package.

“she likes havin’ her throat fucked,” dabi rasps, sneering, “give her what she needs instead of sitting around, birdbrain.”

“shut the fuck up, dabi,” hawks rolls his hips forward, breath catching once he feels the squeezing and tightening of your throat around him. it’s . . better than anything he could’ve ever imagined, silky smooth and gripping him like a vice. “oh my god—hah, s-so pretty like this.”

another experimental roll of his hips, and you let him slip a little deeper.

while hawks develops a sloppy, rough-at-the-edges pace into your throat, dabi is keenly aware of his colleague’s disappointing performance. because he’s an asshole, he points it out.

“forget i said anything, birdie,” and the disappointment is so pronounced in his words that hawks quickly reaches the end of his rope. he’s not one to swear often, but when he does, each word is said with enough weight to reveal how he really feels. dabi and his commission handlers are the only ones who hit the nerve that makes him transform into a sailor.

“what?” he snaps, accidentally thrusting with too much force. it makes you choke loudly, and you suck in air through your nose, eyes stinging with tears. he’s still defensive, but he bends and thumbs it away, murmuring an apology before returning to glare at dabi.

“that,” dabi supplies unhelpfully, languidly rocking his hips against your ass, “fucking like a hero is so goddamn pathetic. do you really think she needs all that sweetness? she’s a slut, so fuck her like one or don’t fuck her at all.”

hawks does pause at this. a glance at your face reveals a depraved greed for more; dabi’s right. you fuck villains, not heroes. you practically told him that earlier, when you were riding his cock through his pants—god, he needs to remember his place here. how many times has he come to this kind of conclusion in the past hour?

gently, as if he’s handling a glass figurine, hawks’ hand cups the back of your head. your heart sinks a little; you thought that dabi’s small speech would knock enough sense into him, but maybe hawks is too much of a hero. old habits die hard, or whatever.

but then, he fills his lungs with air and slams you down. your nose brushes against his pubes, and your arms nearly melt into useless jelly under you. 

“hell yeah,” dabi’s getting serious now, arousal ripping through his body. this is a real tag team.

hawks’ entire demeanor seems to change. muscles ripple under his skin, all of them pulling taut like a bow string as he uses your throat, finally taking hold of the opportunity that’s been presented to him. the commission decides everything for him—how he acts in public or in interviews, how he’ll talk with dabi to extract information about the league, and even what he can or cannot have in his home. 

it’s time to take control for once, he thinks bitterly, thoughts foggy with arousal, this is the one thing that the commission isn’t all over when it comes to their star. hawks’ wings spread out, beating the air and producing a cold breeze that cuts through all of the heat inside this little room. he shudders, forgetting about everything that had concerned him before as he enjoys the moment, no longer acting. it feels so sweet to have some goddamn control for once, especially the kind that doesn’t slip through his fingers as quickly as it got into his hands.

dabi grunts, his hand locating the softness above your pubic bone. it’s already hard to breathe, with hawks shoving his dick down your throat and dabi fucking out all the air you manage to inhale through your nose—dabi just makes it ten times harder, pressing down forcefully.

stars flash across your vision and you moan, throwing your ass back onto him as best you can. being plowed from both ends—double stuffed—is another level of pleasure, as overwhelming as it is. 

with your mouth forced open and your cunt being pounded into oblivion, it doesn’t surprise dabi when you start to slump, tired of holding yourself up. it does, however, piss him off; he didn’t spend all that time stretching out your throat with his dick for nothing, and those marathon sessions weren’t just because he was pent up. he grabs at your hair, wrapping it around his fist and dragging you up, forcing your back into an arch.

“keep that fuckin’ arch, you hear me?” dabi’s demand cuts through the steam filling the room and hawks’ choked groans, too clear to even dare to ignore. there’s nothing to do but nod, a whine slipping out from your bulging throat.

you really are an obedient slut.

“good girl, just like that,” he praises shortly afterward, voice lilting into something almost flattering.

the couch creaks dangerously, yawning under all the weight and movement. it’s an old piece of junk that has finally reached its limit, but nobody hears it. you’re too busy slutting yourself out to hear it; hawks doesn’t care at all; dabi’s inspired to go harder. 

hawks’ orgasm sneaks up on him. heat coils tightly in his gut, and each thrust into your throat makes his tip throb with euphoric sensitivity; he looks at you, noticing the streaks of mascara infused tears running down your cheeks and the drool streaking down your chin, dripping onto the couch. his heart swells in his chest, beating right in his dick, and he knows right then and there that he’s fucking done for.

the final, warning moan is everything but villainous, and he can’t bring himself to care.

“oh, i—” hawks’ abs clench, a few beads of sweat racing down between the ridges of muscle and disappearing in the trimmed hair of his pelvis, “hah, fuck. cumming, baby, please—”

dabi lets go of your hip, fingers searching for your clit. once he finds the swollen, sensitive bud, he pinches it—hard enough to push you right over the edge and into bliss. it’s a messy mix of orgasms, with hawks cumming thick and hot down your throat as you squeeze around dabi’s cock, cunt tremoring from the strength of it.

dabi is last, but seeing you and hawks fall apart was entirely worth the wait. “fuck—” he groans, biting down into his lower lip hard enough to taste the unmistakable tang of blood, “f-fuckin’ take it all, greedy pussy can never get enough.”

he babbles on, muttering unintelligible curses and filth until the euphoria hits him like a high, finally shutting him up. you can feel the smooth metal of his piercings pressing deep as his cock twitches, spilling hot cum against your cervix. it’s the kind of load that’ll prevent you from going back onstage—as if your legs could handle it after this sort of event, damn—soaking through your panties and running down your thighs to show the whole club what you’d just gotten up to. cum pours out from your abused hole, splattering your skin with gooey white as it drips onto the wrecked couch. dabi loves to see you in white—covered either in lace or his own cum.

the stench of sweat and sex hangs in the air, hot and heavy with silence. dabi lets your hair go, making sure to keep his softening cock inside of you as he lounges against the armrest of the couch to catch his breath. hawks carefully pulls away, shaking out his wings and flopping back against the cushions.

“ready to head back to your cage, birdbrain?” dabi pants out, rubbing a hand over your back as you stretch out, exhausted. then his lips pull into a mean smirk. “might wanna rough up your handlers while you’re at it. you’re in.”

hawks’ head spins. he parrots the words back. “i’m in?”

“the league. no turning back now, hawks.”

☆ ☆

hawks still remembers the date and time of what ended up being a two hour long visit at the strip club in kabukicho. he returns a few weeks later, despite being ordered not to hang around these kinds of areas anymore (some reports with photos had been aired online), but he doesn’t give a damn. the thin skin under his eyes is dark with a lack of sleep and too many missions piled onto his back. he never heard anything from dabi about staying away (not that he can recall), so it must be okay.

he makes it right before you get onto the stage, sitting down in a chair heavily. it’s the same singer playing through the speakers, but it’s not the same song as last time. nonetheless, your movements are languid, body flowing like water against the pole. everything is almost the same as his last trip here, except this time, you strut up to him after the performance and seat yourself in his lap, purring into his ear.

“came back to see me, pretty bird?”

“why else would i come here?”

with eyeshadow shimmering under the club lights, you grin as if you know something he doesn’t. “perhaps you’ve developed a penchant for lapdances. who knows what you’ve been up to since the last time we saw one another?”

[hauntedhokage]

𝘪 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘹 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦

dante/f!reader

summary: after it took so long to get over him, you end up in his arms again

word count: 3.1k

warnings: sex pollen/fuck or die, dubcon, breeding (one-sided), reader is not of sound mind for most of this

Not-so-newly single but only recently starting to get over it, your night out was supposed to end differently. Alone at the very least, in bed with someone else as the true best ending of this scenario — but not back in bed with your ex. The friends you’d gone out with would be so disappointed should they hear that Dante had managed to weasel back into your apartment after you spent two weeks looking at the tshirts he’d left behind before finally throwing them into a box that lived in your closet. They wouldn’t believe it was a life or death situation that had you clinging to Dante in an alley, it sounded so stupid. “Hey guys, some demon attacked me on my way home haha!” 

Crazy. Certifiably insane, even. To say that a demon attacked, sprayed you with…something and as a result you fucked your ex like a rabbit in heat until you passed out from exhaustion was a first class, one-way ticket to a mental institution. 

But that was the unfortunate truth.

The night had started in the club, you’d finally accepted the invitation to go out and get over Dante. Losing your hot kinda-boyfriend was truly a tragedy but it was time to move on and stop grieving the relationship and alcohol was the way to do it. The goal was to get into bed with someone else, a good lay to get over it before trying to secure a rebound — but even just dancing your problems away would’ve been a good use of your time. 

The music was loud, bass and drums rattling your ribcage and you were having fun. A couple people danced with you, one guy was actually very attractive and you were hoping something could come of it — which was why you agreed to leave with him. Your hand in his and a wave to your friends as they whistled and cheered you on, all proud that you’d taken a huge step in getting over Dante. 

That was the last time that night you truly felt like you were in control. 

He lived only a few blocks away from the club, so you didn’t mind walking with him to cool off a bit and get to know him some more. His name was Kyle, he worked as a bouncer at another club in town, and he was also getting over a bad breakup. He was cute, told bad jokes that you couldn’t help but laugh at, and it felt like there was a chemical reaction happening between you two which gave you hope that maybe this could stretch past just a one night stand. 

Until the demon appeared. 

Dante had told you enough about his line of work that you were aware of demons and hell being real rather than just something put in the Bible to scare people into “behaving”. You also knew that you stood no chance if you were ever toe-to-toe with one without the white haired menace acting as your protector — and quickly learned that Kyle stood no chance either. 

The sound of his pained screaming registers moments after the demon struck, and you can only stand in horror and watch the…creature claw at him until the screaming finally stops. You couldn’t help, but you were next in line to get ripped apart in the well lit alley by the monster that looked a bit like an insect. Maybe a cicada? Or a locust?

A sweet smell wafts through the air, lavender and — was that vanilla? Or maybe a cake-y smell? Too sweet for an alley but your thoughts start to scramble and it feels too hot now. You want to leave, but your feet are rooted to the asphalt below your shoes and you don’t know where you would go if you could leave? Were you supposed to be anywhere but here in front of this creature that was clearly meant to be your mate?

“Chosen.”

The whisper sends a shiver down your spine; it feels so wrong yet also calms you at the same time. You were chosen by such a wonderful creature, a superior life form chose you to be its mate. To carry its offspring and produce a new, stronger generation.

Chosen. You. Only you. Special girl. A strong girl. 

“Chosen.”

“And here I thought I had squished enough bugs tonight.”

That voice was familiar, comfortable — safe? Possibly. 

But he was now driving his foot through your intended mate’s head. That wasn’t good. 

“The only thing she’s chosen for is a long life and good night of sleep.”

You can only watch, horrified as the owner of the apparently safe voice hacked and slashed at your mate. It must be customary for two males to compete to prove dominance to the fertile female, because your mate fought until he finally fell to the familiar white haired man. 

“...I thought he’d be crunchier. Oh well.”

“You killed him.” Your whisper brings his attention from the corpse back to you, and he moves quickly to stand before you as he talks. You don’t really hear what he’s saying, too focused on the gory scene deeper in the alley, until he’s kneeling in front of you with his hands carefully holding your shoulders as he tries to hold your attention. 

“Hey, hey, it’s me — can you hear me?”

“You?”

“Me. Dante. C’mon, honey, talk to me.”

“Dante?” That was familiar. You know the name, know how it connects to the voice, the eyes, the lips. Dante, he used to be your lover — he could be a mate. He could help you fulfill your purpose. “Need-“

“Yeah, baby, I’ll get you home.”

Home sounded good. Sounded right. 

“Need you to fuck-”

“Not right now, a pretty girl like you needs to be put to bed properly.”

He’s able to throw you over his shoulder and stand effortlessly, and your loins are practically singing at how lucky you were to have been selected by two capable mates and the more capable one was carrying you home. He was going to bed you, breed you as you were born for – you! 

The walk to your apartment feels long, and is made kinder by the way his hands held you firmly on his shoulder. One large arm wrapped around your waist to keep you secured to his shoulder, fingers of that hand pressing into your side to maintain a good grip while his other hand rested on your ass — and you assume there’s no functional reason for that hand to be there aside from just feeling you, and that thought makes you giddy at the thought that he found you attractive. This strong man, your mate, was admiring your child-bearing hips. Did he feel the warmth of your core through your jeans? Did he know just how badly you wanted him, how slick you’d gotten just being in his hold?

You’re set down on your feet once your apartment door is open, but the world around you is spinning which makes staying upright near impossible. Thankfully Dante is there to steady you, letting you lean forward into his sturdy figure as he guides you backwards into your apartment. 

“Did that bug hit you or something? Did you swallow something?”

You shake your head, but your hands move of their own accord to his belt to get to what you needed. He was going to breed you, you could help him get undressed. 

“H-hang on. You’re not okay enough for-“

“I was chosen.” 

“You were basically drugged.”

You don’t know why he’s arguing with you — he fought your mate to win you. He was supposed to be breeding you right now, claiming you as his mate, but now he’s not? Did you do something wrong? The thought pierces through your core, almost as if your womb itself was getting prodded at by a sharp blade in search of the most vulnerable part. 

“Oh, shit, please don’t cry.”

“Hurts.”

“What hurts?” Your shaky hand grips his wrist, guiding his hand from where it rests on your arm to settle over your stomach where it felt like you were getting stabbed repeatedly. The warmth of his hand soothes the pain but only barely, a whine leaving you when his fingertips press into the soft skin of your stomach in an attempt to massage you. “Let’s get you laid down. I’ll stay tonight and if you’re not better by morning we’ll figure that out.”

You’re reluctant to agree, but let him guide you to your bedroom while his hand stays planted on your stomach. You feel much better after he’s gotten you out of your clothes, opting to stay in just your bra while telling Dante that clothes made you too hot. At least you think that’s what you said, his confused expression suggested that he didn’t understand what it was you said but that was a problem for later. Right now you were feeling too hot, too empty, and you needed him to keep touching you.

“Hurts, Dante.”

“I don’t know how to help you, honey.”

“Touch me.” 

He had to. He chose you, he brought you home, he had to breed you. Claim you. He could make this all better if he did what he was supposed to do as your mate. 

You can only stare at him as he looks away from your half naked body, clearly thinking hard about something. Was he second guessing his choice? Did he-

“The bug blasted you with pheromones. That’s the same bug that…oh.” Your head tilts in unison with his, legs opening wider when he leans in closer to make room for him. “You're so horny this likely won’t register but if I don’t make you cum you will die from those pheromones.”

Didn’t he understand that you’d been asking him to fuck you all this time? Had you really been chosen by such a stupid man to be his mate?

“Please, Dante.” The whisper leaves you as his hand settles on your thigh, the other carefully pushing you back onto your mattress while he mumbles assurance that he was going to take care of you.

Your mouth falls open when his fingers push between your folds, the pain in your core dulled slightly by the stretch. This was what your body had needed — him, Dante, your mate. He was to claim you and ease the pain finally. A forearm is pressed to your hip, those two fingers that were once stretching you open are now parting your folds, and you sigh when his tongue slides through to lap at your essence while his thumb circles your already over-sensitive clit. 

The orgasm crashes over you before you could process it, your hands moving to his hair to try and pull him closer and give you more. Instead, his other hand comes to replace his tongue, two fingers pushing into your cunt easily while his thumb continues to play with your clit. 

“Are you going to cum again already?” He sounds amused, but you can’t formulate the words that you need to tell him that he was right. “Let me have it, honey. Cum for your mate.”

He keeps your hips pinned down through their attempts to roll and buck, what sounds like praise being mumbled into your pussy further soothing the pain in your womb. This was what you needed, and he was taking care of you like he had promised — as a mate should. You just needed him to fill you now, fill you and keep you full and breed you. 

“Dante, please,” you whimper, meeting his gaze and biting your lip as you watch him lick his. “Need you inside me.”

“Seems like you’re doing better.”

You nod your agreement; your skin didn’t feel as hot or itchy as it had previously and your brain doesn’t feel as foggy as it had previously. There were questions starting to form regarding Dante’s presence that you’d get answers for later, but the pain in your core still lingered and that needed to be addressed. 

“Still need me to fuck you?”

You nod, perhaps a bit too eagerly if the way he smirks at you is any indicator, but are rewarded by his hands releasing your hips so he could get himself undressed. You want to help, but are stopped by the sheer eroticism of Dante stripping himself of the various straps and belts that kept his weapons attached to his clothes. This was a man who was strong and capable, willing to protect you and proved earlier that he would succeed in doing so, and he was going to fuck you. 

…and then you’d remember why you were mad at him, hopefully. You’re not even sure where the thought came from, but there was a nagging feeling at the back of your mind telling you that you were very upset with the man who was now kneeling between your spread legs – you just couldn’t quite remember what you were mad at him for. 

The blunt tip of his cock coming to rest between your folds has your eyes closing your fingers digging into the soft linens beneath you as he presses forward and stretches you. There’s no time or consideration for adjustments, you’d wager that Dante had trusted in how wet you were and how much he’d prepped you – and you’re not complaining since this is what you needed.

“Just stay put,” he breathes into your ear, his hand taking yours and pressing it into the pillow beside your head. He’s still moving his hips against yours even as he speaks, the heat and desperation radiating off of him in waves as he presses a kiss to your cheek before he gently bites at your jawline. “Stay put and let me take care of us, will you do that?”

You nod, your compliance earning you another kiss before he’s pulling out. Before you have the chance to complain, he’s turning you over and pulling your hips up so you’d be propped up on your knees in front of him before he’s pushing back into you. There was no gentleness, no careful consideration of your human fragility, this was Dante on a mission to get you off and hopefully stop the pain that was still throbbing at your center and serving as a reminder that you were still unfilled. His hands grip your hips hard enough that you’re certain there would be ten little bruises decorating your skin later, and he muffles his own sounds of pleasure by biting into your shoulder, it hurts but in the best way possible as he fucks into you at a brisk pace that had your headboard knocking into the wall. 

“You feel so good, y’know that?” he breathes into your ear, every other word punctuated by a grunt that makes you weaker than the one before. There’s a new heat burning inside you, this one you knew how to cope with and were glad it was Dante making you feel this way. “Missed you s’much, princess. Glad I’m here with you. Savin’ your life and all that.”

“Can you shut up for ten minutes?” You ask, your voice rising in pitch when his fingers make contact with your sensitive clit. You needed more but at the same time it felt like too much, and that has you arching back into him at the feeling of the rough pads of his fingers against the nerve bundle. “Fuck!”

“Stop runnin’, baby,” he chides, pressing his face into your neck to ensure you felt his chuckle in your skin. “Gonna make you cum, gonna make you feel better.”

This time you stay put when his fingers graze your clit, and you feel all coherent thoughts leave you as your body continues to rock with his as his fingers begin rubbing quick circles while his thrusts increase in pace. All that mattered was him, Dante, your stupid ex not-quite-boyfriend, and your approaching orgasm – anything else would have to wait until you could breathe normally again. A thrust punctuated by a pinch to your clit has your body going rigid beneath his, and he’s talking you through the orgasm until his own hips stutter and he pulls out to release on your ass.

“You were supposed to–” 

“You are probably crazy fertile right now and the last thing we need is a baby.” The logic is sound even if the ache in your womb said otherwise. He was going to have to recall the last hour or two to help you piece together the scattered memories you did retain, but you know he’s looking out for your best interest. “More importantly, do you feel better?” 

“A bit.” There was still the ache but you didn’t feel like you were being stabbed anymore, and you could think a hundred times more clearly than you were previously, you’re confident you could manage the rest of the night. It was probably that the more you could orgasm the faster it would go away if he wasn’t going to cum inside you. Which was also smart, even if you hated that you were giving him credit for a good idea. 

“Give me ten minutes and we can go again if you want.”

“Clean your cum off my ass first and I’ll think about it.”

“Always makin’ me work.”

Looking back, it still feels like a fever dream but you know that pain was too real. Your body was too sore after going round after round with Dante until well after sunrise with a couple naps scattered between for your night to have gone in any other direction. 

And now you’re sitting naked on your couch with said ex as he drank coffee from the mug that had always been his. Crazy, stupid, and just plain dumb. After it took so long to get over him, here you were – and all because of a stupid bug demon. 

“Are you gonna keep starin’ at me or do I have to fuck you again?”

“Why are you still here?”

“Makin’ sure we got it all out of your system, silly girl. Can’t have you going out and fucking the first person you see.” He even has the nerve to tease you — after he broke up with you. Just because he saved your life didn’t mean that he could act like that. 

“Why not?”

“You’re not that kind of girl, even if you tried to be last night. Yes, I was keeping an eye on you — that dude in the true religion was not your type. Too douchey.”

“I dated you.” 

“At least I don’t walk around covered in rhinestones like I’m trying to be the disco ball.”

“You stalked me.”

“Bet you’re glad I did, otherwise you would’ve been a demon’s fleshlight and then its dinner. Or worse, left to die in that alley.” 

You did remember how much it had hurt before Dante finally gave you what you needed, and it felt ridiculous to say that having sex with Dante saved your life — but here you were. 

You fucked your ex and it saved your life. Stupid.

[cheeseatlantic]

TOO MUCH MDNI 18+

Simon’s been watching you all night.

Through the dim light of the club, past the bodies swaying to the bass-heavy music, over the rim of his drink—always watching.

You pretend not to notice. Pretend you don’t feel the weight of his gaze tracing the way your dress clings to your body, the way your fingers dance over the rim of your glass. You lean in too close to a man you don’t care about, laugh at something you don’t hear, and know without looking that Simon is clenching his jaw so hard it could crack.

You want him to snap.

And he does.

One second you’re at the bar, letting some poor bastard touch your arm, and the next, you’re being dragged away, Simon’s grip bruising around your wrist. He doesn’t say a word, just pulls you through the crowd, out the back door, into the dark alley where the music fades into a low, distant thrum.

“You havin’ fun?” His voice is low, gravel-rough, barely controlled.

You smile, breathless. “Were you?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, like he’s weighing his options. Like he’s trying to decide if he should let you go or teach you a lesson.

You already know which one he’ll choose.

The brick wall is cold against your back as he crowds into your space, hands braced on either side of your head. He smells like whiskey and smoke and something darker, something unmistakably him.

“You want attention so bad, sweetheart?” His voice is almost mocking, his knee pressing between your legs. “I’ll give it to you.”

You hum, tilting your head. “Thought you didn’t like me being too much?”

Simon huffs out a laugh, dark and dangerous, before grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“I like you however you come. But if you want to act like a fucking tease—” His fingers dig into your skin, tilting your head back. ”—don’t cry when I give you exactly what you asked for.”

And when his mouth crashes into yours, rough and possessive, you know you’ve finally won.

Simon kisses like he’s trying to shut you up. Like he’s tired of your games, tired of your teasing, tired of pretending he doesn’t want you exactly the way you are—too much, too bold, too fucking irresistible.

Your back is against the rough brick wall, his body pressing you into it, the heat of him searing through your thin dress. His hands are everywhere—fisting in your hair, gripping your waist, sliding up your thigh to hitch it over his hip.

“You think I don’t see what you’re doing?” he mutters against your lips, voice dark, edged with frustration. “Dancing like that. Laughing in some other fucker’s ear. Tryin’ to make me jealous?”

You smirk, breathless, nails scraping against the back of his neck. “Is it working?”

His hand snaps up to wrap around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, just reminding you who you belong to.

“What do you think?”

You gasp as he grinds against you, the hard press of him undeniable through the layers of fabric still between you. Your fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer, but it’s not enough—not nearly enough.

“Si—”

“Shut up.”

He spins you around before you can tease him again, pressing your front against the brick, his palm splayed over your spine. His other hand yanks your dress up, baring your thighs to the cool night air.

“You want to act like a brat?” he growls, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “Then take it like one.”

Your stomach tightens, heat pooling between your legs as you push back against him, desperate for more.

“Please.”

That’s all it takes.

He growls low in his throat, his fingers slipping beneath the thin scrap of lace barely covering you. When he finds you already soaked for him, he curses under his breath.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You barely have time to brace yourself before he’s undoing his belt, before he’s pulling your panties aside, before he’s pushing in—

And fuck, it’s everything.

He stretches you open, fills you completely, not giving you time to adjust before he’s moving, before he’s holding you down and fucking you deep, dragging desperate little noises from your throat.

“This what you wanted?” he pants, his teeth grazing the back of your neck. “Wanted me to lose my patience? To ruin you?”

“Yes—” you whimper, nails scraping against the wall. “Simon, yes—”

His pace stutters at that—like hearing his real name fall from your lips sends something dark and dangerous through him. His hand slides from your back to your throat, pulling you up, forcing you to arch against him.

“Say it again.”

You turn your head, letting your lips brush against his jaw.

“Simon.”

He groans, his rhythm faltering, his grip tightening as he drives into you harder, chasing the edge.

“Fuck—”

You shatter first, legs trembling, head falling back against his shoulder as pleasure crashes over you. But he’s not far behind, cursing under his breath, his breath hot against your skin as he buries himself deep one last time, holding you there as he spills into you.

For a moment, all you can hear is your own ragged breathing. The distant pulse of music from inside. The way his heartbeat pounds against your back.

And then—

“Still too much for you?” you whisper, teasing.

Simon huffs out a breathless laugh, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck.

“Never.”

[reilemon]

🍸⋆｡°✩ Passion Star Martini ✩⋆｡°🍸

♡︎ synopsis: Xavier can't help but feel a little jealous when he sees you having a good time on the dancefloor.

♡︎ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎ cw: drinking alcohol, some grinding on the dancefloor, semi-public sex (bathroom sex), hair pulling (just a little), Xavier being a tease (and possessive), also choking (barely tho)

♡︎ word count: 3k

♡︎ a/n: Is it dancefloor or dance floor? 🕴️

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this!

banner by @cafekitsune

You exit the bathroom after freshening up. Tonight, one of your friends is celebrating her birthday at a nightclub and you are so glad you had time and energy to go out because you were having a blast. First of all, you’re with all of your friends, the DJ was playing good music (he also said that he’ll grant you and your friend a music wish, something that never happens) and the bartender made your favorite cocktail just right. Also, you know you look good because you’re wearing your new favorite mini dress and your hair and makeup are flawless. But most importantly, your boyfriend is here!

Xavier came to the club after you drank your first cocktail. He finished his mission later than expected, and on top of that, he also needed to shower and dress up. The two of you never spent an actual night out together, so you were hoping that he’ll show up. Obviously, you wouldn’t mind if he didn’t, but there is something so exciting about enjoying some mindless fun with your partner while also looking cute. Hot, actually.

When you noticed him approaching your booth, your excitement fizzled out immediately because you noticed how tired he is. He didn’t let it show, but you spent enough time with him to know by just his walk that he is ready for bed.

He settled next to you after greeting you and your friends. He gave you a peck on the lips and then his eyes took in your whole figure “You look stunning.” You heard his voice good enough over the music.

You blushed and thanked him, wrapping your arms around his bicep. You’ve received so many compliments this evening, but his is the only one that mattered.

Now that you can got a better look at his face and his heavy eyelids, you couldn't help but feel guilty. “You really didn’t have to come if you’re so tired.”

He looked at you for a moment then shook his head. “I’m not. Let’s go get drinks.”

He was in fact tired. Poor guy started nodding off in the booth after getting drinks, so you tried to convince him to go home, but he was set on staying. Downing your second drink, you hit the dancefloor with your friends, letting your boyfriend continue sleeping resting his eyes in the booth.

You go back to your friends, just in time to hear the DJ playing the song you requested. You were hoping you’d be dancing with your boyfriend to it, so you glance at the booth, hoping he’s awake. Your eyes scan in the direction where he should be, but you only see some of your friends sitting there.

A gasp escapes your lips when a hand snakes around your waist from the opposite direction.

⁺˚⋆｡°₊✩₊°⁺˚⋆｡⁺

To say that Xavier was exhausted was an understatement. Not only did he get held up at the mission longer, but he had to go to a nightclub as well. His usual routine after finishing work was – shower, eat either alone or with you and then fall asleep reading a book, preferably with you snuggled up in his arms. And he could’ve just rejected your invitation, but he knows that it’s good to break a routine once in a while. But more importantly, he got to spend more time with you like this and in a different setting.

But the darkness inside the nightclub mixed with the bass made him even more tired. And he felt so bad about it, because he saw how excited you were when he came.

And you look so breathtaking. You’re always beautiful but tonight you really went out of your way to look good, and he couldn’t help but stare at your body, how that dress fit you perfectly – and how it barely covered up anything.

His new mission was to stay awake.

But his eyes were betraying him and soon he had to convince you that he’s fine and that he’s just going to rest his eyes for a bit.

With his arms and legs crossed, he started dozing off, the thrumming of the bass weirdly lulling him to sleep.

But then he’d open his eyes, searching for you.

That’s how the beginning of the night went for him – resting his eyes for a moment, and then the next he’s watching you on the dancefloor, making sure that you’re okay.

You were more than okay.

Xavier was happy to see you having a good time, dancing and laughing with your friends. Then you started dancing with your male friend. Nothing inappropriate, but the sight of that man getting to touch you at all made his heart skip a beat. It’s fine, you give him no reason to worry. He doesn’t want to act all jealous and ruin the mood. He should just sit here for a little longer, recuperate some more and then he can join you.

But his mind doesn’t let him rest for long, so he looks for you again.

You wandered off with your friend to the DJ booth. What are you doing there? He can’t get a good look from where he’s sitting, so he stands up and moves through the crowd. He manages to find a good spot where you can’t notice him but he has a good enough view. The way you talk, smile, and even look at that man makes his heart race. And when he sees the way that man checks you out as you walk away is where he gets pissed off.

He shouldn’t be, but he is.

He knew how friendly and flirty you get when you have alcohol in your system, and he can’t blame others for staring because you’re so irresistible.

You walk away from the DJ booth to the bathroom, so he uses that time to go to the bar and take a shot.

He’s wide awake now.

⁺˚⋆｡°₊✩₊°⁺˚⋆｡⁺

You crane your neck and your eyes meet Xavier's - those deep blue eyes are definitely not sleepy anymore. The words get lost in your throat under his intense gaze, so you just smile and start dancing to your song. The hand around your waist goes to the middle of your belly to press you against against him, still leaving some space for you to move, while the other one rests on your hip. You act coy as your butt grazes his crotch as you sway and move to the rhythm. You can feel his body move perfectly to the beat, and you can't help but look over your shoulder to see him dance, his hips and shoulders moving in just the right ways while his full attention is on you, which makes him so much more attractive.

The song changes to a slower one so he spins you around, pressing you between your shoulder blades, bringing your chest flush against his. A gasp leaves your lips as you feel his firm thigh sneak it's way between your legs and against your clothed sex. You’re met with a lustful gaze when you look at him to comment on the position he has you in. You're speechless once again as his hands start guiding your hips, making you slowly and subtly grind on his thigh.

And you give in.

The dance floor is packed - everybody’s just enjoying themselves, minding their business, lost in the music or drunken daze. The two of you managed to separate from your friends while dancing, and some of them went back to take a break in the booth. You felt like you were in a trance; the bass was pulsating through your body, Xavier’s hands on your hip and lower back, taking the lead and moving your hips in the rhythm of the songs, arousal pooling between your legs.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a searing kiss. His hand starts roaming - one holds you by the back of your neck while the other one teases it's way under the hem of your dress.

Lithe fingers tickle the soft skin of your inner thighs, making your pussy flutter and you pull back from the kiss, stopping the roaming hand by the wrist "We should go back to my friends."

Xavier exhales through his nose and rests his forehead against yours. "Are you sure?" You open your mouth to answer but the thigh between your legs moves up at a particular angle, catching the hood of your clit and eliciting an embarrassing yelp from your lips.

You hold onto his shoulders as he continues moving his his leg, and you have to gather all of your willpower to resist moving your hips to hump his thigh.

"Xavier, people are gonna see - " You pant, your voice barely reaching him over the music

"So? They should know you're mine." You hear his steely cool voice perfectly.

You frown in confusion as you observe his serious face "What are you - ?"

"Everyone got your attention tonight, what about me?"

You pull away from his embrace at the ridiculous comment, and you can see the instant regret on his face when you do so, with his puppy eyes widening and lips parting.

You barely hear him utter "excuse me" as he lets go of you and hurries off the dance floor.

You stare at his back for a moment, and then you start following him immediately or you'll lose him in the crowd. Squeezing through dancing bodies, you manage to spot your boyfriend's silver fluffy hair going towards the bathrooms. You take in a breath of relief as you stagger away from the stuffy dancefloor, just in time to see Xavier shut the door behind him. The fresh(er) air and brighter lights, also your runaway boyfriend, flush away most of the alcohol buzz you had. Now Xavier is to blame for how wobbly you are in your heels, and your tingling lips.

You knock on the door and call out to Xavier to let you in. A few seconds later, the doors open just enough for you to sneak inside, although there was no one around at the moment.

You step into the single stall bathroom. This one is a little different than the one you were in, with the pink lights and aqua blue lit up sink counter. You love how it actually smells nice and is clean (perks of spending money on a fancy nightclub).

You lock the door and then lean against it, Xavier right in front of you.

You cross your arms "So what was that?"

Xavier, still looking like a hurt puppy, lightly caresses your upper arms "I'm sorry, that was such a stupid comment. I shouldn't complain when I spent the whole night sleeping in the booth."

"But why did you say that everyone got my attention?"

He steps away from you and leans on the sink "I - " He exhales and shakes his head "Doesn't matter. Wanna go back to your friends? Next round's on me."

You push yourself off the door and step towards him "Did I do something? I though we were having a good time."

Xavier softly smiles and shakes his head, "You were wonderful." His fingers graze your cheek and he carefully places a light peck on your lips, worried you might reject him. His shoulders relax when you don't, and he presses a more deliberate kiss.

You uncross your arms, your hands holding his face. You chuckle against his lips "You're such a dummy."

He blushes at your words and laughs softly, his arms wrapping around your torso to pull you into a tight embrace, your head resting on his shoulder.

"And I'm sorry if I took it too far at the dancefloor." He murmurs.

You chuckle and look up at him, "You didn't."

With that, you peck him on the cheek and move to take a look at yourself in the mirror (it's cool that it lights up at a touch), bending over the sink, and Xavier takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist, admiring you in the reflection. You smile at him in the mirror before turning the light off.

"We should go back." You tell him when he doesn't move.

And he still doesn't. He only hums in response and starts nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. He inhales your scent, hands roaming from your waist, to hold your hips, gently swaying them this time how he pleases.

He whispers, "You look so irresistible," a whimper escapes your lips as he grounds his crotch against your butt, lifting your dress in the motion, "it felt so good to have you dance against me like that."

You hold onto the sink as you arch your back and close your eyes, the feeling of his hard clothed cock rubbing against you awakening your arousal again, the dress now almost completely hiked up. His lips latch onto your neck as they suck hungrily on the sensitive skin, and one hand starts fondling your breast.

"Xavier - " You pant "We have to - " you whisper weakly, the rest of the sentence evaporating from your mind as you feel him sneak a finger over your soaked panties.

"You're right," He coos as the fingertip finds your bud, slowly rubbing it, "We don't wanna keep them waiting."

You don't notice when his hand leaves your breast from how dazed the finger on your clit is making you feel. Then you hear the belt buckle clinking and unzipping, and you only half open your eyes, meeting Xavier's in the mirror.

"That's right bunny, keep your eyes on me" He whisper as he pulls your panties to the side, sliding his cock back and forth between your folds, getting soaked in your essence.

You whimper as the tip pushes through your entrance, the slight sting disappearing quickly as Xavier rubs soothing circles on your clit. His other hand finds your breasts again, impatiently pushing down the top of the dress along with your bra, your breasts spilling out, his fingers toying with your nipples.

Your head drops as he bottoms out and you bite your bottom lip to prevent a loud moan slipping past your lips. But the finger on your sensitive nub is ruthless, making you cream around his thick cock that's starting to piston in and out of your fluttering pussy. He then picks up your leg with his other hand and resting your knee on the sink, giving him a better view of your dripping entrance taking in his dick. You arch your back more, holding onto the sink, eyes squeezed shut, your lips timidly spilling out quiet mewls and whimpers as Xavier is now pounding into you, both hands holding onto your hips in a bruising grip. The squelching sounds of your cunt and skin slapping fills the bathroom and you're sure it can be heard from outside even over the music.

Then you feel one hand on your scalp, grabbing a fistful of your hair and gently tugging it, making you lift you head and look at him in the mirror and your pussy clenches at the sight of his hooded eyes laced with lust, knitted brows and parted lips.

He grunts "Eyes on me pretty girl." The hand on your hair moving to wrap around your throat, only lightly squeezing the sides of your neck. "Let me hear you."

You purse your lips and shake your head, or as much as you can move in his grip.

Suddenly he completely pulls out, and you whine as your needy hole clenches around nothing.

He chuckles and leans forwards, his breath fanning over your ear, giving you goosebumps all over your body.

"I guess we can go back to your friends then."

Your mouth falls open but nothing is coming out. You just gape at him for a few seconds shocked, but then you protest in a breathless voice "But what if someone hears us?"

"Let them." You jolt as he lines himself up again, "I want everyone to hear how good I make you feel." and a loud moan escapes your lips as he grabs your hip and buries himself to the hilt in one sharp thrust.

"Good girl."

Between his own grunts he praises you breathlessly

as he's thrusting vigorously, your butt bouncing with every thrust and smack of his pelvis, his hand leaving your throat to rub your clit again.

you're so beautiful

you're taking me so well

my good girl

The leg that you're standing on starts to shake as you feel the heat pooling in your lower belly, your pussy spasming around his cock that's hitting all of your sweet spots.

"Eyes on me, bunny." Xavier rasps, his own release nearing, when he notices your eyes fluttering shut.

With a vice grip on the sink you come hard around his dick, your eyes barely open, and you almost tumble over as your leg gives out from the intensity of your orgasm, but Xavier's hands wrap around your torso to keep you from falling. He presses his own against your back, arms wrapped around your waist as he ruts into you, riding out your high and chasing his own. Xavier buries his face in the crook of your neck, and pants mine, mine, mine before his mouth latches onto the soft skin. Your eyes roll back, head thrown back as he sinks his teeth into the side of your neck, burying his throbbing dick inside your still fluttering cunt, and filling you up with his hot cum.

With languid thrusts, the last spurts of his seed come out, both of you catching your breaths and coming to your senses. Xavier sucks and licks the bruised skin and then places a soft kiss on your sweat covered temple.

"Are you okay? Was I too rough?" You turn your head over your shoulder and you meet those familiar soft eyes.

"I'm okay, don't worry."

With a relieved sigh, he gives your lips a tender kiss.

⁺˚⋆｡°₊✩₊°⁺˚⋆｡⁺

Before you exit the bathroom, you give yourself one last look in the mirror, eyeing the angry red love bite.

You turn to Xavier who's unlocking the door, "This is gonna be really hard to hide."

He looks back to see what you're talking about. When you point at your neck, he sweetly says "Sorry about that."

He's not sorry at all.

[chlorinecake]

✰ don’t give me that look | l.at oneshot

pairing: switch! producer boyfriend! anton x sub! f. reader

🇨​​💿 ​​🇳​​🇹​​🇦​​🇮​​🇳​​🇸 ꗃ SIZE KINK, kissing, lap sitting, tit & clit play, anton records a sex-tape in the studio, unprotected sex (back shots), roughly 1.8k words … !?

a/n: for @antonitty and her delusions - hope u like it bae !!

You sat idly on the studio couch, admiring your boyfriend from afar as he silently toggled with the sound desk, mixing a few rhythms.

Crossing your legs, you eyed him up and down, taking in the view of his focused frame.

“You’re pretty good at flicking and twisting those knobs, y’know?… I wonder how nice it’d be if you used that same energy to please me…”

He let out a soft breath, eyes still trained on the soundboard as he spoke, “Babe, you know I’d rather spend time with you… I just have to produce this track sample before tomorrow…”

“And then?…”

“I’m all yours,” he finished, flashing you a promising look through his shaggy bangs.

“Fineeee,” you agreed in a sarcastic tone, slightly rolling your eyes at him, “but can you let me try something on the record first?… it might help…”

Anton quirked a brow, turning to meet your face with his own intrigued one, “You mean like… singing?”

You simply nodded in response, just before promptly getting up from the couch to sit on his lap at the music desk.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands now that you were this close to him, so he simply rested them at each arm of the spinning chair.

“You might even learn a thing or two from me if you pay attention,” you went on, knowing that he’d smile at your playful words.

“Go ahead then, superstar… blow me away,” he whispered tauntingly, keeping his thighs firm as you adjusted yourself on top of him.

With his headphones secured around his head, Anton prepared himself to hear whatever it was that you wanted to add to the track project.

Pressing the red “record” button, you let the instrumental play for a few moments as you got a feel of the beat, this one sounding more R&B compared to his usually chill rhythms.

You started by toggling in a few bass notes on the drum-pad, watching Anton’s reflection in the soundproof screen ahead for any sign of reaction.

So far, he only bobbed his head slowly, still anticipating your next move.

That’s when you picked up the mic, bringing it to your lips and letting out the most pornographic moan you could muster.

Anton’s hands flew from the chair arms to take off his headphones, reaching forward to pause the track recording as you suddenly burst into a fit of giggles.

“Babe, what the hell?” He blushed, covering his face with one hand as butterflies rushed through his stomach, the sound of your moan replaying in his mind over and over, “this is serious, y’know?”

You turned around in his lap, taking in your boyfriend’s shy demeanor as you fought to hold back the laughter growing in your chest.

“What? Was it bad? I can do better if you want me to…,” you pouted, batting your eyelashes at him as he put his hands behind his head, slightly smirking at you despite the evidently nervous red flush of his cheeks, “you can even help me...”

“Don’t give me that look, ____,” he sighed, voice sounding a bit more raspy while still maintaining its usual softness.

Was it nerves?

Was he horny?…

Either way, it didn’t matter to you because he sounded so fucking hot right now—

“What look?” you pressed with a feigned expression of innocence before very intentionally wiggling in his lap a bit.

“Like you wanna be fucked,” Anton said with a wince at your actions, letting his eyelids fall slightly while looking down at you with a clenched jaw.

You couldn’t believe those words had left his mouth so smoothly, his confidence alone causing you to squeeze your thighs together, already feeling so eager for him…

You couldn’t handle it when he behaved so switchy with you… starting off all shy before gradually becoming more and more bold.

His eyes eventually wandered back to the soundboard, so you took it as an opportunity to change the subject.

“You never told me if it was bad or not,” you started in the silence, mind just now becoming aware of Anton slowly getting harder beneath you.

“Well,” he hummed, letting his hands leave his head and slip down to your hips, “it was a solid 50-50, if I’m being honest…”

You scoffed dramatically, an offended hand flying to your chest, “How so?”

“Because… I always love the sounds you make for me, but not when you force them…”

His grip on your hips was firm now, holding you in place before just barely rocking you against his lap in skilled motions.

Despite the simplicity of his actions, your body started to feel dizzy with desire, mind fogging up as his clothed tip continued grinding beneath your core.

“Anton—”

“Shhh,” he interrupted, the feeling of his breath below your ear making you internally shiver, a feathery yet steady groan escaping his lips.

“Can I try something now?” he asked breathlessly, even though the question sounded more like a declaration than a proposal of permission.

“Mhmm,” you nodded submissively, eyes feeling heavy as the warmth amongst your bodies only grew, thanks to how stuffy the studio was.

Clicking the sound desk back on “record,” Anton slipped his headphones over your head, feeling himself get even hotter at how cute you looked in this moment, his chunky earmuffs barely fitting around your much smaller head.

By now though, Anton had easy access to your lower half, given the high-pleated-skirt you decided to wear that day.

You almost felt like half of your body escaped to another planet when Anton’s touch started to wander lower, his hands practically covering the entire expanse of your exposed thighs given how big they were.

His breath remained steady in this moment, despite how his heart kept stuttering like a broken record.

Or perhaps, a sexually excited one…

The subtle movements of your legs helped Anton to shimmy your panties down past your hips, all the way down to your ankles, and eventually the floor.

You sat with your soaking wet core atop your boyfriend’s lap now, two of his fingers soon finding your clit in slow, circular motions.

The thing was, Anton had finally let his intrusive thoughts win, having wanted to get a genuine recording of your moans for a while.

The idea always meddled in the back of his mind whenever you pranced into the studio while he was working on beats…

However, the only issue now was that you were feeling a bit shy with the recorder on again…

“C’mon baby, lemme hear you,” the boy nearly begged, words sounding a bit mumbled with the way he was kissing along your neck.

“I know you want to,” he taunted, free hand sliding up to grope your left tit while his other hand continued toying with your pussy, “no wonder you wore this slutty skirt for me today…”

His voice… it practically intoxicated you… the way it sounded so pure yet so condescending at the same time…

“F-fuck,” you stammered with a moan, furrowing your brows as his fingers applied pressure to your clit, the other hand slightly pinching your nipple as he knew just how to get you to those pretty sounds that he wanted out of you.

“Good girl~,” he whispered in a cooing manner, “but I know you can do better than that…”

He guided you to stand up on your wobbly legs, his fingers meddling with your slick as he towered behind you.

And although your ears were still muffed with his headset, you could clearly make out the sound of his belt unbuckling with tingly clinks, your pussy only pulsing with need.

Before you could even beg to be fucked, you felt one of Anton’s hands hike up your skirt, the other forcing your back to arch over the sound board as his hard length pressed between your folds.

He was way too fucking big, but part of you liked the idea of him potentially breaking you.

It wasn’t easy, but your boyfriend eventually slipped himself inside, letting his tip tease along the ridges of your heat before picking up the pace, the soft pants and occasional groans from his body sounding loud and clear thanks to the headphones you wore.

There was also something about hearing your own moans so audibly on top of his… hearing how he turned you into a whiny mess so easily…

Anton’s hazy eyes met your fucked out reflection in the glass screen ahead, your own vision wandering off to the sound wave reader on his music board.

The way it’s lines heightened with each desperate moan that left your sweaty bodies did nothing but crazy things to the knot tightening in your stomach.

“Touch me, Anton,” you practically whimpered, voice coming out in small hiccups given how hard he was pounding into you.

His hands were already so tight around your waist, but your whiny request let him know exactly where you wanted him… where you needed that extra intensity.

He went to grope your tits, lifting your body away from the sound board with ease as the sight of his flexed biceps nearly made you drool.

The pace of his hips remained fast and controlled as he continued fucking into you, the tip of his cock reaching so deep that you’re sure you felt it in your belly button.

Looking down, Anton saw that the recording had reached just over 3 minutes, despite how your pussy desperately clenched around him, a clear sign that you were close to finishing.

His mouth was full of saliva, not even remembering to swallow given how pleasure drunk he was right now.

And somehow, you caught onto this, turning your neck at an angle and guiding his plush lips to kiss you, only a few seconds passing before he inserting his tongue, grunting into your mouth.

“You sound so pretty, baby,” he said in between kissing you sloppily, right before taking his headphones off your head and tossing them on the couch, still connected to the music desk by a thin black wire, “listen…”

He whispered the last word against your lips, maintaining the most gentle look in his eyes as he kept bouncing your ass on his cock.

You meant to say something, but the weak cries of pleasure kept stalling your speech, the words becoming a jumbled mess in your head.

Anton’s strength helped to hold up your shaky body just as you felt your release gush around him, a bit of it seeping onto his thighs as he continued thrusting.

It didn’t take long for him to cum after that too, a beautiful series of moans spilling from his lips as he panted over you, letting his hand slide away to end the recording.

The screen read ‘5:18s’ before Anton reached over to save the track, leaving both of you shocked that you even finished that fast together…

Still a panting mess, your boyfriend held your hips close to his, letting his weight fall back in the spinning chair with you on top of him.

“We should totally do quickies in the studio more often,” you huffed tiredly, leaning back against Anton’s chest as he hugged you close, still inside your pussy.

“Not that I’m disagreeing with you, but maybe after I install an air conditioner in here, we can plan something,” he smiled, not even bothering to wipe the sheen of sweat from his face that inevitably kept your hot bodies clung together.

Your hand found his, fingers idly toying with the rings he wore as he adjusted himself beneath you, “I should probably let you get back to work now since I’ve distracted you enough already—”

“Let’s just stay like this for a little longer,” he interrupted, almost yawning at how comfortable he felt buried inside you in this moment, “please?”

���Of course, superstar,” you replied playfully, nestling into his warmth and letting your eyes fall shut as you listened to the sound of his gentle heartbeat…

✶ taglist: @squoxle, @nikisdubblchococake, @wonbinisbabygurl, @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr

✶ 🎀 ✶ check out more works like this on my RIIZE masterlist !!

[p0orbaby]

Could you go an request for Leah Williamson x Reader.

Leah has a crush on reader, no one knows except for Alessia who caught her watching edits of reader. The team are in the gym, doing pulls up, weights all that stuff. And Leah can’t keep her eyes off you. Getting turned on by the movements and flex muscles. Alessia seeing this teases her through-out the whole time.

-

The gym reeks of dedication, effort, and that specific brand of post-workout musk that no amount of designer deodorant can hide. It’s all heavy bass music, the metallic clang of weights, and the occasional grunt from someone pretending this is their 15th rep, not their fourth. You’re mid-pull-up, arms flexing in a way that looks almost unfair to the human eye. Leah, meanwhile, is failing miserably at playing it cool.

She’s not even trying, really. She’s perched on a bench with a dumbbell that’s more decorative than functional, staring at you like you’re the last goal in stoppage time. Her gaze keeps flicking from your biceps to your shoulders, her jaw tightening whenever you move.

“Subtle,” Alessia whispers from the treadmill beside her, not even pretending to hide her smirk. She’s seen this before—caught Leah at 11 p.m., huddled over her phone, watching a fan-made TikTok edit of you scoring last season. Leah had looked up, panicked, and slammed her phone down like a teenager caught watching something decidedly not safe for work. Alessia hasn’t let it go since.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leah hisses, trying and failing to keep her eyes on her dumbbell. She gives it a half-hearted curl, immediately setting it down because apparently, five kilos is suddenly too heavy.

“Right,” Alessia drawls, upping the treadmill incline just to feel something. “You’re just admiring the… technique?”

“Exactly”

Your laugh cuts through the gym noise, and Leah flinches, like she’s been caught red-handed. You’re joking with Katie McCabe, something about the pull-up bar being too high for her. Leah swears she’s never been jealous of metal equipment before, but here she is, wishing she were that bar.

“Look at her,” Alessia says, low enough for only Leah to hear. “Flexing, laughing, being all… sweaty”

Leah glares. “Stop”

“Stop what? Observing?” Alessia bats her lashes. “Honestly, it’s inspiring. You should go tell her she’s doing great. Maybe offer to spot her?”

Leah shakes her head, panic flashing across her face. “I’m not that obvious”

Alessia’s grin widens. “Mate, you’re a blinking neon sign. I half expect you to start holding up a banner that says, Please notice me, Reader”

Leah clenches her jaw, staring fixedly at the ground like it’s personally offended her. You’ve moved on to the bench press now, lying back, the muscles in your arms and chest taut as you push the barbell up. Leah makes the mistake of glancing up.

“Christ,” she mutters under her breath, her ears turning red.

“Christ can’t help you,” Alessia quips, leaning forward on the treadmill handles. “You’re done for”

You finish your set, sitting up and wiping the sweat off your brow with your shirt, inadvertently flashing just the tiniest sliver of toned stomach. Leah, already fighting a losing battle, looks like she might combust.

“Alright, that’s it,” Alessia announces, stepping off the treadmill and grabbing a water bottle. “I can’t watch you suffer like this anymore. Either talk to her, or I’m telling the entire team you’ve got a crush the size of Wembley on her.”

Leah’s eyes widen, and she grabs Alessia’s arm in a death grip. “You wouldn’t”

Alessia just raises an eyebrow. “Try me”

Before Leah can argue, you saunter over, a casual smile on your lips and a towel slung around your neck.

“Hey,” you say, glancing between the two of them. “What’s all this about?”

Leah’s brain short-circuits. Alessia, unbothered and enjoying herself far too much, grins. “Leah was just saying how impressed she is with your form. Weren’t you, Leah?”

Leah stammers something incoherent, her face flaming, and you tilt your head, amused.

“Well,” you say, smirking just enough to make Leah’s pulse spike, “I’m more than happy to book you in for a one-on-one to show you the ropes, if you’d like?”

You walk away before Leah can respond, leaving Alessia in stitches and Leah questioning every decision that led her to this moment.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

glint of metal

words: 800

warnings: 18+ only, male receiving oral, reader is described as experienced and has a tongue piercing!, facefucking, drinking, semi public sex

rafe doesn’t expect to see the glint of metal when you laugh. he zeroes in on watching your mouth, waiting to see a peek of the piercing every time. he waits until the right time before approaching you, both a couple drinks into the night but not drunk yet, just slightly tipsy.

“your tongue piercing is so hot.” rafe says, hand planted against your lower back, pulling you closer into him as he speaks into your ear over the noise of the party, the loud chatting and pumping bass.

“want me to show you some more of it?” you smirk, pressing closer to rafe, letting him feel every groove of your body, the way your breasts squish against him.

you move quickly through the house until you find an empty room. you’re on your knees before rafe can even plant a kiss on your mouth. he wants to feel what its like to flick his tongue against the metal ball, but it’ll have to wait as you reach for his pants.

rafe watches you as you undo them with ease, clearly used to this sunken position, on your knees looking up to a man. hes just glad it’s him this time. you tug his khakis down, revealing his underwear, cock already growing against the fabric.

you smirk as your tongue sticks out of your mouth, dragging along his length. rafe can feel the difference in texture, but he wants to feel the coolness of the shiny metal. he drags his underwear down his hips, not caring that you were planning on teasing him longer.

you smile as his cock is revealed, not the longest you’ve seen but deliciously thick. you know its going to stretch your throat when you take him all the way in, but you don’t allow him access that easily, grasping the base of his cock to hold it steady as you press kisses to his length, tongue occasionally flicking out but not far enough to feel the piercing yet.

“come on.” rafe groans, reaching to tug at your hair.

you let out a giggle, teasing for a few more seconds before your mouth drops open, tongue coming out to protect his cock from your teeth, but also to stimulate him with the different texture. one he’s never felt before.

you sink down slowly, allowing yourself to get used to having him swelling in your mouth. rafe allows you to take it steady at first, just enjoying the way your slight movements feel.

your intensity turns up quickly as soon as you are adjusted, head bobbing up and down, greedily feeling along every inch of him, even moving your hands to his thighs so you can get all the way down to the base. rafe moans above you are loud and unabashed, not caring if people hear, not when he's got you on your knees in front of him.

“fuck, you're so good.” rafe groans out. it's not just the piece of metal in your mouth that makes the blowjob so good, you've clearly got a talent and a lot of practice. rafe is tempted to ask you if you got the piercing just to make your blowjobs better, but he doesn't want you to stop for a single second to answer.

you pick your pace up, determined to feel rafe release in your mouth, wanting to know what his cum tastes like on your tongue.

rafe meets your pace, rocking forward but still letting you dictate, making a point to slide your tongue back and forth with his every thrust.

you pull away from rafe with a gasp, needing to intake air as you press a kiss to his tip. “fuck my mouth.” 

rafe smirks. he was hoping you'd let him, but he'd take anything you're willing to give. rafe grips your hair on either side of your head, watching the way you prepare yourself with a few deep breaths before your jaw falls open, slackening as your piercing reveals itself, glinting in the low lighting of the guest bedroom you've found yourself in.

rafe pushes in, maintaining the pace that you started, but slowly building up until he's fucking into your mouth, tears streaming down your face, ruining your party makeup.

“fuck.” rafe groans, looking down at the mess he's made of you. “gonna cum.”

he continues to push down your throat until his cock swells, pulling back to jack himself off, tip held over your awaiting gaping mouth.

it takes him seconds to cum, white ropes shooting out and covering your tongue, causing the piercing to disappear as rafe moans throughout his orgasm.

“fuck.” he grunts out, tugging his cock for the last few drops before taking a staggering step back. you keep your mouth open despite the corners stretching into a smile, making sure rafe sees the cum you're keeping in your mouth before swallowing it, even going as far as to lick your lips.

rafe redresses as you recover, standing up and stretching out your legs, knowing you'll have purple knees come morning.

the conversation after is always awkward, but rafe just gives you a smirk, ever his charming self. “let me get you drink?”

“usually guys offer that first, but okay.” you giggle, letting him lead you out of the room and back into the party, not caring who stares at you.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @folklorsweet @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs

[screampied]

JAILBREAK. — SUGURU GETO. ☆

synopsis. you hate your job as a part time correctional officer. things change once you have to “babysit” one of the dangerous criminals of the a-block floor, suguru geto. but girl, maybe sleeping with an egotistical cocky ass inmate might have been your biggest mistake yet.

wc. 5.5k

warnings. modern au, fem!reader, pwp, inmate geto, corruption kink, degradation, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, geto has a tongue piercing, hair pulling, praise, overstim, reader’s kinda delulu

an. thank uuu @osaemu for beta readin someee!! inmate geto is my new hyperfixation omge

it was as if each shift became longer and longer, your daily occupation, nothing special, nothing fancy, just a correctional officer at some high maintenance prison near the city.

the stench of musk and sweat wafted around you, such a reoccurrence that it was practically normal. it was around midnight, as how most of your shifts were, and as you trod towards the secluded darkened space for only the inmates dangerous to themselves and others, you intake a breath before swiping your key near your hip, preparing to unlock the glass-like metal steel door.

“oh,” you close the door behind you, and that familiar deep voice does something to you.

what…?

you don’t know, but it had such bass in it, you turned to face the inmate, no one other than suguru geto. “…yo,” he mocks, giving you a sly head nod, his eyes scan up and down your body, your uniform and then your own meets his pursed lips. somehow, he managed to find a cigarette. again. “hmpf. they got the newbie watchin' me again? you do know that gun on your hip isn’t a toy, right?”

your eyebrows twitch, and your facial expressions formed into a deadpan as you walked towards him with his daily meal in hand. “yeah and i’m not afraid to use it on you if necessary.”

“ooh. rookie’s got jokes, that’s cute.” he grins.

you murmured, and he only smiles, he knows you didn’t mean that, he pissed you off, even if he wasn’t saying anything exactly. pulling out your staff notepad checklist of where you usually kept track of all the inmates attendance and meals, you uttered, “but anyways…” you blowed, “no one fed you today, suguru. you must be starving.”

“yeah, 'm starvin’ ‘n more ways than you can imagine, princess,” geto hums, and you suddenly freeze once the inmate stands up firm and tall. he’s just so damn big—broad wide shoulders, long slight shaggy dark toned hair, and with a split-second gaze, you look near geto’s orange jumpsuit. the bulge, yeah you spotted that immediately, but his tattoos…

his fucking tattoos.

“can you at least try to behave for a few minutes.” you sighed, and he's already getting on your last nerve. he could tell too…and damn was he was just getting nothing but pure amusement from your sheer irritation.

“eh, depends,” he speaks in a low gruff, his attention was on you and only you, raising his darkened thin arched brows before his lips converge into a witty smirk. “ya gonna feed me my food, babe? oh, you should know. poor inmate like me can’t feed myself when i’m all,” and he pauses while speaking, placing his hands in his lap — giving his wrists a slight shimmy and you hear the metal dance against his skin. “…handcuffed.”

it took everything within you to not smack this arrogant suave bastard, geto flirted with you whatever chance he got, with no shame either. you’re a pretty girl, well mannered, yet never took anyone’s shit, he liked that about you.

your job wasn’t to be taken lightly, it could be considered scary at times with the various inmates you have to deal on a day to day basis, but simply, you were just a girl with an attitude. but he wasn’t fond of brats, especially brats like you.

“…fine,” you mumbled, making your way towards him. he sat on the steel uncomfortable bed that was as usual, never made. geto practically lived in solitary confinement, they don’t call him the suguru geto for a reason. his name was known amongst many, he was feared worldwide. geto wasn’t exactly a good guy, far from it actually.

he’s a criminal and his record was… definitely spine chilling to say the least. “don’t try anything, just open your mouth.”

“hm, alright then.” he happily complies, his demeanor changes just a bit, and he’s more playful. geto opens his mouth just slightly and you spot tiny dimples form near the corners of his lips, and you gradually stick the spoon into his mouth, feeding him whatever food was made for the inmates of the night.

baked mash potatoes, geto stated it was one of his favorites and you just so happened to remember. a smile forms on his lips as you feed him. your eyes darted towards him, and now he’s just staring intimately at you.

that smirk that forever rested against his pink thinly parted lips.

“m-mhm.” he grunts, and your eyes widen just a bit, he was messing with you, and you don’t even realize geto’s got his hand gripped on your waist. stroking a thumb against your belt, you felt the feeling of him rubbing all against the firearm that was strapped tightly on you.

before you could smack his hand, geto swiftly brings you on top of his lap, stealing out a gasp from you at how quick he was with his movements. the silver spoon sticks out his mouth before you take it out, only to return him with an irritated glare.

“what do you think you’re doing?” you uttered, growing quite embarrassed yet trying to maintain a level-head.

“told ya,” he grumbles, swiping a tongue against the excess mash potatoes that remained near his lips. “i’m hungry, babe. that was good, but i’m not satisfied. i need more.”

“inmates in solitary confinement aren’t allowed to have seco—”

“pretty girl, you know what i’m talkin’ about,” geto chuckles, and you shiver a bit from feeling the soft pads of his thumb brush against the belt of your waist again. you were in uniform but this entire position was so dirty. not to mention, it’s not like this place of the prison was exactly secluded. it was, but there was bound to be people were walking by. “i’ve been seein’ the way you stare at me.”

he was just infuriating, but you didn’t know how to reply so…you didn’t. you just sat there on the inmate’s lap, with a quite dumb expression and he’s just eating it up. “geto—”

“it’s just you ‘n me, girl,” he slyly whispers, and his voice drops just a bit as he stops you from speaking. his touch against your waist just gave you more and more goosebumps. all the way up until you felt it. geto infamous boner that hid beneath his jumpsuit. he’s been incarcerated for at least three years now, in and out. he was for sure horny. you could just tell from his seductive gaze. “don’t gotta be shy. was waiting for you to show up if ‘m being honest. you’re not like the rest, y’know?”

that’s when you gasp, realizing his handcuffs were off — he must have took the key from your pocket, because he was just feeling you up now. you let off a surprised noise once you felt geto starting to make you grind against his lap, feeling his hefty bulge.

“sugu-” you mumbled, and he’s just staring at you with a sly grin pressing onto his lips, only before he leans directly up close to your neck, giving a part near your collarbone a soft deep suck.

you whine from feeling the near sharp edges of his teeth lightly dig into your skin, playfully.

“mhm, pretty thing like you isn’t fit to be workin’ here. cutesy little prison guard,” he sung, his warm breath wafts against your skin, “crushin’ on your inmates is real unprofessional, ya know. you could get fired.”

he was right, you could get fired. and perhaps he wasn’t lying about the second part too—you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t find suguru geto the slightest bit of attractive. because he was, he and you both knew it.

“don’t be stupid. i’m not crushing on you,” you denied, yet embarrassingly enough, your eyes widen at feeling geto air your words — his thick stubby fingers, two of them specifically runs down between your legs and you gasp again. “are you…crazy? there could be cameras in here.”

“so.”

“so? you’re trying to get me fired?” you raised your eyebrows, sitting up from his lap, and he’s playing with you entirely. stroking a rough scarred hand down your back. if it was any other inmate, you’d barely give them a second glance.

geto gives you direct eye contact, and he looks so handsome and lean back, but his messy long black strands of bangs nearly covers his eyes, making him appear to be ten times more feared.

“maybe,” then he chuckles. “it’s okay, if it makes ya feel any better. i fantasized about you at least once or twice while being secluded from the other inmates in this hellhole. i prefer you over the other annoying officers who’re always givin’ me shit.”

you were about to speak but suddenly you couldn’t—you realized how close you were to geto, propped up on his lap, propped up on his bulge. were you really throbbing right now? oh you definitely were.

pulsing, itching, aching.

“soooo, when was the last time you got laid?”

this guy.

“excuse me?” you stammer, entirely being taken aback. such smug fell off his tone, he cocked his head a certain way to let you know he was being genuine. in his own way, of course.

geto’s always been one to flirt with you whenever it was your shift to supervise him. his comments were always so bold. he’d purposely pitch his tone a bit low whenever he spoke to you, no one else. perhaps it was the incarcerated felon crushing on you.

“you heard me,” he mutters, giving you a sly glance. he ghosts a few fingers against your waist. you still don’t know why you’re happily sitting on his lap, but you were comfortable to say the least. “with your long hours i pretty much figure you don’t even have time to finger yourself, let alone get laid. poor baby.”

“…just shut up.” you chastised, his soothing warm words, the way he delivered those last two words as a form of mockery. it made you throb, you pinched yourself, feeling yourself grow out to be hot. 

“make me, girl.” he faked a pout on his lips, almost as if his speech was purposely dumbing you down, solely from the tone. geto teasingly cocks his head towards the right and a teeny smile stretched against his lips. 

and you did. 

he was just poking fun at you—you loathed it, the tension between you and geto, his expressions were relaxed and smug like you won’t do anything. 

so, what did you do? 

you silenced him…with a kiss. 

he’s taken aback, you’re taken aback, you don’t know what came over you but you just couldn’t stand him talking. 

his sly grin, you desperately wanted to wipe it off his face. geto leans back against his bunk. his breath gets caught in his throat with the way you initiated the lustful kiss, parting your mouth open just a bit. 

you can feel geto reaching for the firearm near your hip but with quick reflexes you smack his hand, and he chuckles, pulling you closer towards him. 

he tasted sweet, with a tang of spice. leaning his head forward, he felt your warm breath shudder against him which makes him let off a low grunt once he feels you start to rock against his lap.

geto didn’t expect for you to trail a finger down his jumpsuit. the soft nearly wrinkled fabric, unbuttoning it and he shudders at how you’re all frisky and bold. 

“easy now officer,” he whispers before pulling away, lips pink and glistening with a bit of spit. his voice was a mere rasp and it made you throb. “when i said make me, that’s not what i meant,” and then he smiles, tugging on your work pants. “but you’re something else. take off those pants, i’ve been meaning to show you something.”

geto wanted to show you his tongue, specifically his tongue piercing. not necessarily show you but make you feel it. 

when you kissed him, you felt it tickle against you. the tasteless titanium rubbing against your tongue. it left you all hot and bothered. 

he had you currently laid flat on your back, an entire needy mess, despite it only being a few minutes. how embarrassing…

it was just the way he curled his tongue, flicking it against your pussy, he’s sloppy. two big hands squeeze and grip against your inner thighs, long strands prickling against your legs as he swirled his tongue against your slit. 

“f-fuck,” you’d gasp out, tilting your neck down to stare at geto. he’s already returning your eyes with a coltish glance, puckering his lips briefly to create kissed everywhere between your legs. your hands rummaged through his long silk hair. giving it a firm tug, that earns a low grunt from geto that makes you pulse even more. “tickles, suguru.”

“does it?” he purrs in a cheeky tone, slowly flicking his tongue against your clit—you jounce, a gasp gets caught in your throat at the way the piercing shifts against your folds. the slight coldness of it makes your thighs ache for more “mhm. can’t get enough.”

you pant, tugging and gripping roughly on his hair, geto’s nose deep, his tongue was so greedy. it was just the way he grazed and moved his tongue against your labia. your two sweet flaps, you grew more whiny by the second. 

“s-suguru,” you’d squeak, biting down on your lip. you knew how wrong this was, so why did it turn you on even more? “think…think ‘m getting close.”

“yeah yeah, keep your legs open.” he cuts you off, and you stare down at him. he’s so nasty with his tongue, taking a brief second to spit right on your cunt, dragging a thumb between your slit. “do you get wet like this for all your other inmates?”

you stared down at him, feeling yourself grow more and more aroused by the second—your response was just giving him a subtle head shake. “no, just you.”

“just me?” he repeats, lowering his voice and it’s so attractive. “maybe you really are crushin’ on me.”

“shut up..” you hissed. your breathing started to become more and more erratic, your ears rang and you pulsed from how close you were starting to approach towards your orgasm. 

geto’s entire chin was polished with your sweet slick—covered in nothing but all of it. such a messy eater, each time you tug on his long strands of hair. his husky pitched groans continued to make you pulse.

his piercing slowly lapped against your cunt, and you gasped at the feeling of him inserting a finger inside slowly. 

“ooh, ‘s close isn’t it?” he teases, peppering kisses near your thighs now, nibbling on it playfully with his teeth. “you gonna make a mess for me? slutty prison guard?” 

“y-yes.” you squirmed, your hands idly dragging him closer against your pussy. he chuckles, his technique snatching your breath away quite literally. “suguru… gonna come. wanna cum.”

he lays his tongue flat, lapping and lapping against your clit, giving it a long sweet suck to where his mouth starts watering from the taste and you moan. “ask nicer. where’s your manners huh?”

“p-please,” you whined, growing frustrated, so pent up—your walls clenched around the two fingers he now had buried deep into your cunt. you whimper from the mere stimulation, the way he toys with your g-spot with his lengthy slender fingers had you throbbing pathetically. “let me cum please, s-suguru.”

“oh but i don’t know,” the inmate teases, using his free hand to pry open your thighs a bit more. the cute pout that spread across your lips at his words was so adorable, “aw poor baby,” he hums, playfully blowing against your pussy to watch you writhe in pleasure and utter desperation. “you’re so cute when you’re desperate.”

“suguru, please, please..” you whimpered, not even caring how you sounded. your sweet voice reverberated against the walls of the secluded kept room, own words coiling at your throat. 

he smiles. “how about this,” and for a terse moment…he stares right at you. with his tongue going over his lips, savoring your taste. “i let you cum, you promise to get me out of here.”

….

help him break out? 

all this so you could orgasm….

you swallowed, chest heaving and your legs felt nearly nonexistent. geto looked serious though, brushing a thumb against your sloppy clit. he awaited your answer and you were deep in pondering thought.

you’d for sure get fired, then again you did hate your job. 

the fact that you were even contemplating letting an inmate break out just to cum. you just wanted a release so bad, the way his tongue lapped against your pussy, the smooth texture of it flicking back and forth to where your toes curl. you wanted more, and maybe it was a bit concerning that you started to not even care about your profession anymore. 

“promise..”

“oh..?” he slyly remarks, for sure you were gonna at least deny or call him crazy, but a straight answer. he was amused—and the needy look on his face was all he needed to see. “hm, it’s a deal then. go ahead ‘n cum, pretty girl.”

your back arched in ecstasy, he’s holding onto your hips departing his fingers from inside you, and just his tongue’s doing the main finish. you shuddered as you felt yourself vibrate and twitch. the build up had you clenching around nothing but air. “f-fuck…” 

scorching, your body radiated and carried so much heat around it, your eyes started to roll and roll towards the very depths of your head. once you came, you slump back against the rickety mattress, one hand still firmly maintaining its grip on geto’s hair. 

“there there, ‘s okay,” he slyly purrs, making sure to clean you with his tongue. for a split second his eyes close, and geto brings a few kisses against your folds before sitting up to stare down at you. “c’mere.”

you sit up, giving geto a cute needful glance, you craved more and he knew that. you leaned in to kiss him, and he returns it with such filthy passion. geto’s handsy, his slick-smeared lips ghost against yours before he deepens it. a groan gets caught in his throat, and you whine once you feel him lay you down on your back.

he leans up against you and eagerly, you give the orange fabric pants of his jumpsuit a cute tug, a sign for him to take it off. 

“such an impatient little thing,” he murmurs right into your mouth. you whined, wanting him to keep kissing you but he keeps breaking away purposely, watching your lips quiver in desire. “how bad do you want me?”

“s-suguru.” you pouted, your hand finding its way towards his bulge. the strain in his pants, all because of you. 

“don’t ‘suguru’ me,” he rasps in a mocking tone, his body pressed against yours. and only then did you realize the size difference, how buff and well toned geto was. he was an inmate after all, he always had a consistent workout schedule. geto’s dark eyes stare into yours before he brushes a thumb against your glossed lips. “talk to me nice in that pretty voice of yours. you want me? say it then.”

the disappointed pout you had displayed on your lips remained there as you spoke, only to hear how whiney and desperate you were. 

“i want you suguru, please.” you sigh. 

“girl…you’re so unprofessional,” he snickers, a swift snicker leaves from his lips before you hear him shuffle in his suit. pulling down his matched set pants, he tugs near the edge and it goes down. “feel how hard you make me, officer.”

and you let out a soft gasp. 

geto lightly grabs you by the neck, and you let off a needy moan once he starts to rub your face against his boxers. the very imprint of his bulge. “all your fault. got me throbbin’ for you...”

“suguru,” you whined, a small pout spreading on your lips each second he continued to tease you. “suguru, s-stop teasing me.”

“just jokin’,” you plop down on your chest, the moment he lightly shoves you forward against the plush-cushioned bed frame. it creaked from the movements, quite rickety. “oh wow,” he utters in a low voice — quickly averting his eyes towards your work pants, briefly pulling them down to come full-view of your ass. “do correctional officers just…not wear panties or…?”

you let off a moan, feeling him skim a few fingers against your ass, holding back a noise once he presses the leaky fat tip of his cock against your throbbing entrance. 

“i…i forgot.” you whined, mouth watering — you wanted more than anything for him to be inside already. “i was rushing.”

“uh huh,” geto rolls his eyes, and you stared directly at him. the plump fat head of his swiped against your wet folds, a few taps and you were about to go crazy. “ooh. look at you trying to rush me.” 

he was such a tease, you could hear the playfulness in his tone. as geto hovered over you, he took a few moments before slowly easing his way inside you. 

his jaw clenches, and it’s sexy…

the way his muscles would tense all because of you. you were panting, legs just dumbly sprawled out. maybe it was unprofessional, participating in sexual activities with an inmate—yet, you just couldn’t help yourself. all the built up tension surrounding between the two of you. perhaps it was bound to happen. 

“fuck, ‘s warm..” he grunts, and he’s just barely halfway in. you chewed near the inside of your lip, nails clawing down his buff arms and he starts to pant himself. geto was huge. emphasis on huge. 

his happy trail was mesmerizing to look at, the way he had slightly black curly hair coating near the lower half of himself. it was well trimmed, yet much visible to see. the more he gently makes his way inside your cunt, you felt every mean inch. the curve geto had—it was hefty, you felt yourself starting to drool. 

a single vein throbbed, and you felt it. geto bites his tongue marginally. and once he’s fully in, he gives you a coy expression. 

“may i move, officer?” he snickers. 

“p-please.” you whimpered. 

“okay.” he hums, and the bass to his voice was just enough to get you wet. far wetter than you already were. such smoothness dripped from it, it was a deep pitch that always made your heart flutter and sink. 

once he starts up just a single thrust, your body jolts back and you gasp—finding your arms to suddenly grab onto him. 

geto chuckles. “dramatic thing, aren’t you.” you moaned, nails continuing to drag down how skin as you’re laid flat against your back. the angle was so deep and thorough, each hit against your pussy had your kind spasming. in an entire frenzy of you will. 

he leans in to pepper kisses all over your face, strands of his hair that was out tickled against your skin. by this point, he’s buried deep. your head goes back a bit and…oh, that same curve that he had, it continuously made an appearance. 

geto was buried between your legs, hefty sack just thwacking against you. your legs were perfectly bent, shoulder width apart. “f-fuck,” you’d stammer, suddenly clamping all around him. it took a few deep vigorous thrusts, but at this point he’s got your pussy memorizing his lengths size. geto spreads his knees for a more thorough base, his movements were so sloppy you could barely think straight. let alone process anything. “suguru, ‘s right there.”

“right there what?” he teases, leaning in to nibble near the bottom of your lip. the thin fabric of his jumpsuit brushes against your skin—you were just a mess. pulse after pulse, you wouldn’t be surprised if your brain was short circuiting. “i can’t hear ya when you mumble, baby.”

“fucking-” you spat, and he chuckles once you’re cut off with a deep kiss. geto vary’s his stance against you, and slides his tongue all throughout your mouth. it’s a rough and passionate kiss—so much so to where, he has you catching his breath. once you pull away, you moan, being brought back to reality from his ruthless smacks he’s making with his dick. “keep…keep hitting me there.”

he hums, giving your bottom lip a slow playful bite again, still ramming his hips against you at such a filthy pace. “is that an order?”

he was so annoying, that two second glance he’d give you—a smirk pressing against his lips, he definitely knew how to get under your skin. “please,” you corrected yourself, nails still running down his back. it pierced against his skin, earning a low husky grunt from him. “keep hitting me in that s-spot, suguru.”

“since ya asked so nicely,” he purrs, sneaking another kiss. this time near the very corner of your mouth. the taste was just glacé, sweet and all. simply divine.

you moaned into his mouth, and as his body weight pressed against yours — you shivered. he’s such a tease, geto starts to lightly ghost your cell keys against your bare tummy. your back arched immediately, the coldness of it just grazing against your skin. “you’re so sensitive.”

his soft, teasing words rang throughout your ears, and as you clung onto him—you felt yourself coming closer and closer. he gripped onto your legs, slightly raising them upward and you moan from the deep deep angled. “o-oh my god.” 

geto’s shallow mean strokes had your eyes rolling all the way back….way back to the very depths of your skull. if you weren’t drooling then, you certainly were now.

the moment he sees you pouting from how he cockily starts to slow down—geto pushes a bit more deeper, grinning from your legs now locking around his waist. 

moments later though, you both freeze at hearing the sound of footsteps approaching near the solitary steel door. 

right when you about to orgasm, you both stare at each other — and it’s another officer. you could tell by the loud echo of the keys dangling against their hips. 

“officer, you alright? been in there a while. we’re finishing up roll call then it’s time for the inmates to sleep.”

shit. 

you couldn’t stay quiet, that’d be suspicious, and you knew you had to say something. geto chuckles, still buried balls deep inside of you, leaning in to give your neck a long suck. your hands ran through his hair and you bit your lip, trying to muster up what to say. 

“your subordinate’s talking to you,” geto teases, and you gasp from how he suddenly pistons his hips, such sloppy ruthless thrusts your breath was merely taken away. “don’t be a rude girl.”

“s-shut up,” you whined, putting a hand in his face and he playfully kisses it. you stop a moan from escaping your lips before you project your voice lightly. “uh, yeah. everything’s good. inmate suguru geto’s asleep. i’m just—just finishing up then i’ll take care of his dishes.”

“alright,” the lower rank replies, and your legs start to shake and jostle against geto. he’s staring at you, just wanting for you to slip up. a few awkward seconds pass before the officer continues to speak. “are we still on for tonight?”

you gulped, and geto raises his brows before whispering into your neck. “…oh, tonight, yeah?”

by all means, you felt so embarrassed, heat rises up to your cheeks as if your entire body wasn’t already burning up from his weight pressing down against you.

you ended up cumming mid-convo, and had to cover your mouth to not be so noisy. you clenched all around geto, just a twitching and spasming mess. 

“y-yeah, we are.”

“good, good,” he speaks through the other end of the closed steel door. poor officer, he sounds so ecstatic, a bit of confidence running through his tone. “i’ll see you then, pumpkin.”

geto blurted out laughing and you had to slap a hand against his mouth. the moment the coast is clear and he walks away, you glare and he simpers. 

“pumpkin,” he repeats, mimicking your co-workers accent. “i didn’t know you had plans. have me looking like a fool, hmpf.”

“my private life isn’t your busin—” and you get cut off once geto abruptly sits you upright, to where you’re just straddling him. you moan, your cunt still being stuffed full of his thick inches — and for a moment, you felt his vein prod against you. 

geto groans, seeing how your pupils were all dilated from your recent release. “yeahhh, it isn’t,” he says, grabbing ahold of your waist. you’re rocking back and forth and he’s so thick that you’re just completely cockdrunk and dizzy. “but ‘m having too much fun with you.”

you gasp once you feel the back of geto’s hand roughly smack your ass again, and again, and again. he loves the recoil — you hiss from the sting as your hips roll and maneuver against his lap. “you’re such a dirty girl. i don’t want you to go on that date. stay with me.”

“y-you can’t be serious.” you muttered, arms thrown over his neck. and for a brief moment, it was almost as if you heard a faint of jealously lingering on his tone. it made you throb, this high and mighty notorious inmate feeling this way…for a nobody like you. 

“dead serious, baby,” he utters, and you can sense geto’s close too from the way his jaw tightens. his head tilts back and he bites down on his lip. “that way i won’t be less lonely. talking to the wall ‘n everything.”

oh right, he was in solitary confinement. purposely secluded from the other guards and inmates. geto was considered a danger, yet here you were — stupidly bouncing on his dick. 

“but ‘m not so lonely now that you’re here,” he coos against your ear, and you whimper once he drags a hand down between your legs. he gives your pussy a few mean spanks and you whimpered. “fuck, keep moaning in my ear like that ‘n i’m gonna give you so much of my cum.”

“i need it.” you pleaded, tears swelling up in your eyes, you genuinely didn’t know what got over you — your body was so achy, each time he traced his fingers down your body, you whined. you didn’t care anymore, you just wanted to be filled. 

geto groans, and his hefty base kept smacking back against you, your hips jerked as you tightly held onto him, marking up the very inner part of his neck with soft bite marks. 

“f-fine,” he grumbles, and his voice gets a bit high, he’s growing out to be sensitive from the pressure building up. he even gets a tad bit whiney himself. the constant skin smacking makes him kiss his teeth, and his head throws back yet again—long pretty hair flowing against his shoulders. “god, you’re so fuckin’ nasty. riding me this g-good.”

you even start to tug on his hair, and that makes him moan even more. not like he minded. it turned him on, needless to say. 

once geto came, it was thick, so much that it instantly spilled out of your cunt. you paused your hips, and he silenced his groans by grunting against your neck. he’s shaking just as much as you were — and it came out in velvety ropes, spurting and spurting. 

“take it all,” he hisses, gripping onto your waist tightly. you whimper, grinding against him just for a few seconds and he’s for once speechless. “damn, those hips of yours is so deadly, fuck.”

you whined, sitting up and he pulls out of you, watching his own cum spill and drip out. geto brings a thumb towards your clit to smear it all over your pussy, an image that was a something he’d never erase from his mind. 

you panted, hitting your back against his bunk while geto leans in to kiss you deeply. you kissed back, dragging your tongue against his, feeling his warm breath fan against yours before he pulls away with a weary expression. 

“good girl,” he murmurs, peppering a soft kiss near the side of your mouth. “remember my promise?” 

“yeah.” you exhale, trying to catch your breath. your legs felt like jello — head clouded and entirely empty, not a single thought in your mind. 

he smiles. “good. because i forgot to tell ya something else,” and you stare at him, a soft confused head tilt, watching him re-adjust his jumpsuit, pulling his boxers and pants part up. “have fun being in solitary by yourself.”

“wait w-what?” you stammer, and reaches the door, your own keys in hand — and you couldn’t have felt anymore stupid. geto chuckles, with a sly shrug. “princess, you were so gullible. letting me take your keys,” and he unlocks the huge latch before grinning. “but hey, don’t feel too bad. you have a date tonight.”

you glare, overwhelmed with emotions before spitting out a, “fuck you.”

“you literally just did,” he wriggles his eyebrows. “don’t worry. i’ll come back for you,” and then he opens the steel door.

yet before slamming it, he gives you a wink and that same sly grin. “nah i’m just kidding, no i won’t. sorry.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

get off the floor, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You order Jeon Jungkook to get off the floor. He says, "Make me." You make him. Eventually.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; tipsy, bratty (needy) JK; wedding guests reader and JK hooking up in a random corner room bc they can no longer contain themselves, gasp; semi-public smut (fem dom!reader + sub!JK, JK becomes half-undressed while reader is still fully dressed, slight degrading talk (not really), heavy making out, dry humping) basically, I was staring at this photo and had thoughts

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“Get off the floor.”

“Make me.”

Once again. No stranger to this supreme annoyance, and yet knowing that did not make it bearable. You looked down at him. Was he drunk? He stared off to the side. Looked moodier than anything. Trying to play it cool, perhaps. You caught him glancing and you stepped back, smoothing the high slit of your deep purple evening gown.

“That suit costs way too much to be on the ground,” you attempted again, his black blazer over your bare shoulders.

Jeon Jungkook raised an eyebrow at you.

“Don’t care.”

You could feel your patience running thin. Not new, just like all of Jungkook’s antics. You felt his eyes travel up from your legs to your waist to your chest. When he got to your face, you gave him an unimpressed frown. If he hadn’t been drinking, he would have the good sense to look away. But he had, so he just ticked his head as if he wasn’t laying down in the middle of a random offshoot room in a very nice hotel. There was no one around. Time of night and because this wing had been rented for the wedding that was still going on in the main ballroom.

“You’re going to get in trouble,” you warned.

His dark eyes caught the low lights of the art deco sconces on the walls.

“Get on top of me.”

This was precisely why you had considered skipping this wedding. But, alas, common sense pulled through. You had not come with a plus one because you didn’t have one. Jungkook had not arrived with a plus one either even though you were quite sure he could have secured one. He was probably thinking the same of you as well. The look on his face when you strode in and greeted the couple was enough to encourage some of the guests to mysteriously begin herding you and him in close proximity. You couldn’t blame them. Playing matchmaker was bound to happen if a woman attended such a social event alone.

You just didn’t think the lucky man would be Jeon Jungkook.

You narrowed your eyes. His eyes lowered to half-moons. His lips parting. The two silver rings gleamed on the right edge of his lower lip.

“Don’t play this game.”

The tip of his pink tongue flitted against his lip rings.

“I’ve been wanting to play your game for a while now,” Jungkook breathed, his low voice vibrating in his chest.

You could still hear the bass of the music. One step. The heel of your pumps clicked loudly against the tile floor. His black three-piece suit had been perfectly tailored to him. There was no need for additional shape because his body lines were already ideal. His black hair had been carefully slicked back. Nothing to hide behind. Another step. His black vest and crisp white shirt were tight enough to his chest that you could witness the way his breath hitch lifted his upper torso. You looked down, then pointedly back up at his face, reminding him that his tight slacks made everything obvious.

He bit the side of his lip.

With a casual lift of your slinky skirt, you stepped over him, and then re-draped the dark violet fabric over his lower torso. One foot on each side of his hips. He must have expected you to refuse, as you already had many times before. He immediately froze, his startled eyes widening. In your defense, he had previously been more subtle and annoying about it rather than direct. You reached up, maintaining eye contact with Jungkook, and twisted your wrist, hooking two fingers on the collar of his blazer around your shoulders, pulling it away from your body to reveal skin.

You dropped it on the floor, away from your bodies.

The fitted gown had a soft sweetheart neckline with thin straps that framed your collarbones. A simple white gold chain necklace with a tiny round-cut diamond nestled at the base of your neck. The straps crossed over to your exposed lower back. The medium-weight fabric was tailored to skim over your curves. Princess seams accentuated your shape from chest to hips before opening up to wispy high slits that were only obvious when you walked or stood with more weight to one side. Demure if you stood straight, which you mostly did. Wasn’t your wedding after all. Your hair was down, smoothed down at the right, covering enough of your back to uphold the illusion of modesty. Unfortunately, as night approached, you had found yourself quite cold. The air conditioning had been turned high to accommodate for all the dancing bodies.

That wasn’t the trajectory of the night for you, though.

Instead of the dance floor, you and Jeon Jungkook were now somehow in deserted offshoot room with chairs on tables. Probably reserved for additional seating just in case any additional guests tried to squeeze in at the last minute. Certainly not reserved for a raunchy rendezvous.

You lifted an eyebrow.

“Scared?” you taunted, looking down at him.

His wrists were against the floor by his shoulders. You saw his fingers twitch, but he did nothing to move further.

“Ravage me already,” Jungkook exhaled. Hot and heavy and hiding desperation. “I can’t take this.”

You had been well-acquainted with him for a while now. You ran the tip of your pointed heel against his side. Jungkook shuddered. He didn’t move to touch you. You backed off. The real problem with all this was not the friendly terms you both had, but rather the fact that he had caught you in a rather dubious place some nights ago. Neither you nor him should have been there. In fact, you made it a point to travel far enough so you wouldn’t run into anyone, which you presumed was also the exact reason Jungkook ended up in the same place.

You squatted down, tilting your head at him in a predatory way.

The skirt of your dress pooled over his abdomen.

As you came close to Jungkook’s level, you heard his breathing shallow.

You took a short moment to collect your dress accordingly before dropping to one knee. And then the other. Straddling him, but not quite touching. Your fingertips touched the ground. He smelled like faint musky spice. You lowered over him, until your hands were just under his upper arms.

Looked down.

Jungkook stared at you from below, trapped in your shadow.

“You really did see me at the BDSM club that night,” you murmured. “Didn’t you?”

You raised your right hand and closed it around his left wrist, pinning it to the ground. He sucked in a tight breath, the gravity of the situation seemingly sinking in although it didn’t seem like he was rushing to stop you.

“Your ass looked so fucking good,” he whispered in the dark. “I knew it was you.”

You bent your left elbow, descending to his face.

“Someone will find us.”

At your reminder, he bit his lower lip in that fuck-me-harder kind of way. Then you felt movement. His right hand snaked between you and him. Your eyes flickered down. His dress shirt was fastened all the way to his neck. He looked sharp. Conventionally handsome. The only things he couldn’t hide was his facial piercings and the tattoos on his hand. Hand tattoos were a big faux pas to most. You liked a rule-breaker though. Unfortunately. Jungkook’s deft fingers traced the pressed collar of his shirt.

You watched him undo the first pearlescent button.

Then the second.

Your lips parted to warn him to stop, but the third was already coming undone and you could hear the desire in his erratic breath drifting upwards. Then it was eyes-to-eyes, devouring you with false innocence, and you opened your mouth to trace your lips with the tip of your tongue, taunting him with the glistening void.

“Fuck…” he whispered, trembling under you.

And then you stopped his hand by fully pressing your body against his chest, your clothed breasts against his naked pecs. Flitted your tongue over his lip rings, tasting his moan before hearing it. He turned his head, trying to chase it, but you feathered kisses over his cheek, gripping his left wrist as you licked his ear, hearing the whine of your name tickling yours.

“P-Please…”

You avoided him that night at that club, hoping he hadn’t recognized you, causing every subsequent interaction making it painfully clear to you that he had indeed seen you strutting your stuff in black latex while teasing strangers with your leather crop. Surprisingly, not in the way of trying to use such information against you, which was what you expected, but rather in the way the tempted drive the tempters insane. In imploring looks that only you could know. In too many chances of being too close in proximity. You don’t know how he did it, but now for some reason everyone was delicately suggesting to you to, perhaps, give him a chance. It only strengthened your want to teach him a lesson. You savored the rising panic in his voice as you bit the curve of his ear and toyed with him with your tongue. His trapped hand turned and you felt his palm mold to your lower ribs, sliding up. You bit down. He gasped, biting back a moan as his fingertips ghosted the curve of your breasts.

“Ah…. D-Don’t…” Whimper so close to his heart that only you could hear it. “My e-ear is… is sensitive, a-ah…”

You smiled, pressing your lips to his earlobe. His earrings were warming from your breath and saliva.

“Is that why you have so many piercings, huh?”

You made sure he could feel your lips move as you purred filthy nothings.

“What a pain slut you are.”

This time he truly moaned, his hips rising, and then abruptly cut himself off to avoid rising volume.

“D-Don’t…”

You sank down. Pressed against him, and even though the layers you could feel his erection throb, his entire body shivering when your weight dispersed over his lower body. His fingertips traced the dip in between your breasts. Your tongue circled over his ear once more before kissing up to his temple, the fingers of your other hand creeping up the side of his neck, and then you made out with Jeon Jungkook, right there on the floor with his groan vibrating the inside of your throat as you slowly thrusted your tongue into his lips. He did his best to suck and you always pulled away at the last second, using one finger to trace the muscle of his neck down to his collarbones.

You broke the kiss.

His lips were glossy and flushed.

“Please… Don’t stop,” he begged, squeezing your breast. “Don’t stop…”

The inaudible music continued to hum in the background.

You placed two fingers on his chin and pushed his head back, giving you access to his throat. For a brief moment, you considered making your mark, but instead you trailed your tongue down, down, painting possessive saliva onto his warm skin. His body rose. You let go of his wrist to pull open the sides of his shirt, realizing he was undoing his vest at the same time as his chest became fully exposed to the air, his dark nipples hard. You flicked your tongue against them, an involuntary ripple seizing his torso at the heated contact. Licked all over, enjoying the scent and taste of his skin. He silenced a cry as you bit down.

“H-Harder…”

You rose slightly, grazing your tongue against his skin before doing so.

“Be quiet.”

And then you roughly pinched his other nipple.

His arm flew up and he screamed behind clenched jaw, his hips lifting from the floor and his erection colliding with the inside of your thigh. You let out a light hum, sliding up his hard thighs. Your dress was already bunching around your waist. With a sweep of your skirt, your barely-there panties came into view. His attentive eyes immediately went down to the matching skin-toned thong barely covering your pussy, tricking him for just a moment, and then you saw the disappointment flutter into a slight frown.

“Did you expect me to be naked?” you mused.

He tried to cover himself with indifference. “No.” His needy gaze and raging boner gave him away.

You smiled.

And held the front of your skirt out of the way, rocking your hips forward to rub your panties against his clothed cock. Jungkook gasped, staring back at your relaxed expression with wide eyes, unsure where to look. You put a little more force into it, increasing the friction and molding his hardness to the soft dip between your legs, and you saw his eyelids flutter, his dark eyes rolling back, a contained moan escaping his chest.

You talked down to him, because you could tell he liked it.

“You thought I wouldn’t have panties and I would just ride you in a public place with no remorse or shame?”

Tension began to show through his muscles. He had one arm on his forehead and the other against the black-and-white tile floor, using subtle leverage to grind against you. He wasn’t obstructing his vision though, still very obviously staring at your thighs, the dip towards your pussy, watching the hem of your panties press into your skin with each movement.

“I… oh, fuck, I don’t k-know…” He panted, his shadowed eyes roaming back to your face. “Maybe.”

You laid your free hand on the waistband of his slacks, tracing his belt. You watched him hold his breath, his chest tight and oh-so-delectable. Slowly, you hooked your fingers under his belt. Gripped it, and changed the angle of your thrusting so that the head of his cock was rubbing against the radiating heat of your pussy, giving him a better view of your thin panties digging into your slit.

You saw his teeth sink into his lower lip.

“F-Fuck…”

His eyes slid shut and he moaned your name, sensual and deep and far too practiced for it to be a closed secret, his hips pushing back up against you, trying to get more and unable to do so. Frustration. Need. Craving. All bleeding into his expression. Against better judgement, you could feel it too, the irresistible pull of barely enough, the desire to tease turning into wetness between your legs, slowly but surely perfuming the air with your sweet, musky arousal.

Jungkook opened his eyes and stared up at you, imploring softly.

“P-Please…”

His arm lifted from his forehead and his other hand raised, fingertips stroking your thighs while using his shoulder blades for leverage. Forceful and precise. You let go of his belt and traced the knuckles of one of his hands, feeling the restrained strength in his touch. He sank his fingers into your thighs, gasping, pressing the back of his head onto the floor and arching his back. His open shirt. His exposed muscular chest. His tan skin faintly glistening with sweat. His throat begging for a bite.

You raked your nails down his abs, forcing Jungkook to lustfully groan to the ceiling.

You smirked.

“Get up.”

With minimal effort, Jungkook lifted his torso off the ground, frowning at you for asking him to be reasonable. His palms pressed into your thighs, ensuring that you continued to straddle him even though you had no intention of moving. In fact, you drew your knees together, pinning him in between your thighs. A few black strands had dislodged from their places and draped over his furrowed brows.

“Was that so difficult?” you murmured with lowered lashes, walking your nails up his chest.

His hands were sliding up towards your hips under your skirt. “Yeah.” He squeezed your ass with his strong grip while staring into your eyes. “I’ve been wanting to get you out of this dress for hours.”

“Hm.”

You gave him an unimpressed look as you felt his fingertips glide down. He pulled outwards ever-so-slightly. From below, out of sight, your pussy lips parted with a wet sucking sound.

Jungkook moaned against your cheek, pressing his naked chest against your clothed breasts.

“Come on… Please…”

You hand had migrated to his side, steadily scratching his lower back.

“Very reckless and dangerous of you.”

He glanced at you with those half-moon eyes filled with stars of longing.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want me to be,” Jungkook whispered hotly. “Brushing up against me by accident when I already told you that you look too damn hot. Teasing me every time I look down by showing off your legs even more.” His mouth brushed against the side of yours. You could faintly feel his lip rings. “You’re mean.”

You sat on top of his still-hard cock and purred, “I don’t recall doing such things,” before lightly bouncing on top of it.

He gasped and you sucked away his exhale, pulling back before he could kiss you.

“Let me,” he breathed out.

His hands came up to cradle your back as you arched your spine and then you sighed out, his soft kisses fanning over your décolletage, tucking his tongue between your breasts and licking upwards, his eyelids fluttering in bliss from the taste of your perfumed skin.

“Please, let me…”

Your arms around his neck. You had not intended to fuck Jeon Jungkook tonight but, then again, that was easy to think when he hadn’t looked at you with those perfectly desperate eyes yet. Nor had he yet pushed the top of your ass down to collide with his hard dick still fighting his pants, implying just how well you would fit together. Until right now that is. You smiled, leaning back into his warmth.

“At least button your shirt so you don’t startle the hotel staff with your sexy body.”

His ears flushed bright red. You shot him an amused look as he fumbled about.

“And what if there was a camera in here, hm? Recording your depravity,” you mused, appreciating the view.

“I don’t mind,” he mumbled to his chest. His ears remained red.

“I see. But if I compliment you, you become embarrassed.”

Jungkook avoided your gaze. “N-No…”

You hooked a finger under his chin and yanked him back up, confronting those big, dark brown orbs. He looked taken aback, almost afraid of what you would say next.

“I can’t wait to have you under me,” you whispered. “I’ll make you show me how talented you are at begging.”

He moaned into your mouth as you kissed him deeply, pulling him into your possessive embrace.

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continued in get on the floor, m | jjk

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drabbles masterpost | masterpost