#it's right there. right in the ending slide

[enhard]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚ ✩

sim jaeyun — “use me” (MDNI)

(wrote this just thinking how jake has pretty veiny hands to match his big veiny cock ♡︎)

pairing: bf!s.jy x fem!reader

: you’re pissed at your boyfriend for ignoring you but luckily he knows the best way to help you calm down… using his fingers of course ! but that’s not all

cw: smut, fingering, hand kink, size kink, riding, cockwarming, creampie, squirting, lots of stretching out, pet names, praising, fucking while on call with others, jake is just packing ughh </33

You love your boyfriend, obviously, but you started hating how he spent more time playing with his friends rather than hanging out with you.

Every time he had free time you’d ask him to sleep over at his and he accepted whenever you would ask. However… he would spend his time clicking away at his computer screen, his pretty fingers moving along the keyboard keys.

You’d sit with your arms resting on your knees, curdled up on his bed watching him.

“Hurry through here so we can corner these guys.. come on, faster, faster!” he says, speaking to Heeseung, Jungwon and Sunghoon through his headset. He’s been playing with them for hours now, and you just spend your time listening to him. The blue light from the screen emits onto his glasses, spreading on his whole face.

You scrolled your phone for a bit, but how much more could you scroll really? You desperately needed his attention, you missed his sweet words and his touch.

Without wanting to disturb him, you walk behind his gaming chair, wrapping your arms around his abdomen. He had to watch how he reacted cause the others could hear his every movement. “Oh..hey my love, what’s up?” he says, still focused on the screen. Your mood changes again, seeing how uninterested he is, not even bothering to look at you. You quickly take your hands off him and back off, that move making him look back at you for a split second.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, shooting another enemy.

“Forget it, i’m going home.” you say, the want to stay getting lesser and lesser.

“Wait.. what? what do you mean..?” he says, immediately grabbing his headset to take it off his head. He leaves the keyboard in the middle of the online game, faint sounds of the guys’ screams coming from the headphones.

“I wanna go home.” you look down.

“I’m sorry my love… I was totally ignoring you. I didn’t realise. I’ll leave the game right now.” he gently grabs your hands, looking up at you like a guilty puppy.

You stop him. “I’m just mad at you. How can you invite me over then just.. ignore me like that??” you snap.

He looks down again. “I’m acting so stupid. I’m sorry.. is there any way I can make it up to you?”

As he’s massaging your fingers with his, you look down, noticing the way his joints move. The amount of small veins he has in his hand and how easily you can trace them with your touch. You stare at his slender fingers, his perfect trimmed nails… just getting an idea.

“Jake..” you whisper, pulling him into a soft kiss. As you lean in, he grabs onto one side of your jaw, pulling you closer to him. You almost sit on his lap, before he stands up to make you walk back to his bed. You both make out for a bit, barely getting enough of each other’s lips.

He lays you on his bed, getting on top of you to continue kissing you. It’s just like he knows what you want to forgive him. “Let me make you happy… what do you think?” he smiles softly. You just nod, looking up at him with desperate but determined eyes.

His fingers slyly cross your neck, down your collarbone and down your shirt. He uses one hand to massage your whole chest through your large shirt. He slowly touches you all over, before stopping at your hips, where the shirt ends. he moves his fingers up your shirt, on your abdomen, finally sliding it off you from above your head. Your breasts now fully in his view, he smiles upon looking at them.

“You’re so damn perfect. I love you so much.” he says. his fingers cage your tits with a squeeze, trying to make the best of it with how much time he has until his members realise he’s gone.

“I love you too baby.” you say back shyly, biting your lip after watching his veiny hands touch you all over. His fingers are genuinely perfect, the way his hands are so soft on your plush skin, pretty pink knuckles and hands just a little cold to make you shiver.

He finally moves down to your pants, sliding them off in one move, making you spread your legs a bit so he can take them off. You’re just left in your underwear now, already soaked. You’re waiting for his slender fingers to welcome your pussy with a touch, but he has other plans. Instead, he picks you up in his embrace, legs wrapped around his waist. Your wet underwear leaves an embarrassing stain on his plain white shirt but he doesn’t mind.

He buries his head into your neck while he walks back to the desk. “You’re so wet for me, love.” He says satisfied. “Now you better stay quiet, the mic is on you and… you don’t want them to hear you, do you?” you look at him a bit scared of the situation, but you shake your head. “Good girl, stay quiet for me then.” he reassures.

Jake sits back down on the chair, making you sit on his lap, facing him. He places the mic of the headset right close to you telling the guys that he’s finally back. He puts the headset on one of your ears, letting you hear him aswell with the other. Now his friends are just talking about random things while you hear them with one ear, and your boyfriend’s voice in the other. You stay completely quiet but he makes a move, leaning in to your face to tell his members that he’s going to be away from his keyboard for a bit again.

After he says that, he leans back into his chair and immediately rips your underwear off. He makes a big hole in them not even bothering to take them off. Jake shyly touches your sensitive clit with the bud of his thumb, tracing small circles around it. He looks at what he’s doing the entire time, admiring how wet you could’ve gotten for him in this time.

He pulls his fingers away to shove them in your mouth, making you lick and suck on his fingers for a minute or so. The fingers get coated in your saliva, and he pulls them out to continue touching your clit. You succeed staying quiet, grabbing his shoulders with both your hands. He picks up his pace, beginning to squeeze the sensible skin, pinching it and dragging it with his fingers. “So good.” He whispers. You close your mouth shut, trying your hardest not to make a sound, the guys’ voices echoing through your head.

After he’s done abusing your clit, he moves down to your folds, touching all over them with his wet fingers. He stops at your desperate hole, slowly pushing one finger inside. You close your eyes, your lips parting at the sudden feeling. Your body jerks up automatically as you let out a heavy breath.

As your eyelids connect, they crush two sweet tears in between them.

Jake reaches for the mic, holding it in his palm so the sound muffles. “I barely shoved my finger inside, princess. Stay still.” He says, moving his fingers slowly in and out of you. Your juices run down his knuckles as you sit there on his lap shamefully. You grab onto his shoulder blades, trying your best to stay quiet.

He takes his hand away from the mic, placing it on your thigh instead. He sneaks another finger in, making you leave out a small sound. He looks up at you with his glistening puppy eyes, smiling ever so slightly with the corners of his mouth. He picks up his pace significantly, the feeling of his fingers so deep inside your core making you want to scream right there. If there’s one thing you love about your boyfriend’s physical appearance it HAS to be his hands.

They’re so soft, perfect for holding or.. you know, feeling.

He takes really good care of his hands, specially for you. He makes sure he stays on the top of his hygiene mostly for moments like these. You slowly lean in to give him a quiet kiss, muffling a moan that was forming in the back of your throat. The buds of his fingers rub against the best spot as he curls them inside, making you leave out a louder sound. Luckily his members were preoccupied with the game and didn’t really pay attention to what they heard.

Jake’s eyebrows raised slightly, speeding up even more. You start shaking your head, barely being able to contain yourself anymore. Your poor underwear is stuck to your skin, almost fully wet against it. “J…Jake.. I can’t please.. i… please…” you plead in a faint whisper.

“What’s that, love? tell me clearly.” he says, clearly knowing what you’re about to say but he still loves teasing you for it.

“Gonna cum…. oh m… fucking days. Please. Let me.. cum..” you whisper so slightly again, the sound barely hitting his ears.

“Keep quiet though, i’m letting you finish don’t worry.” he keeps going, massaging your thigh with his other hand. You immediately feel the knot in your stomach unleash with a large gush that spreads down his fingers and onto his sweatpants. You cover your mouth with your hand really tightening your palm on your face.

He smiles in satisfaction, pulling his fingers out to shove them inside his mouth. He licks his fingers to be able to taste you on his tongue, and he finally grabs onto your ass. He gives it a little playful slap before grinding you on him. You manage to calm your high down just to focus on him. You look down at his bulge forming in his now wet stained pants.

Jake has always been hard to take, in other words, he’s just packing. It never demotivated you to take him whole, no matter how much he stretched you out. Even his half-hard dick is hard to grab with one hand. That’s why when you slide his sweatpants off, you smile at him before barely wrapping one hand around his cock. You lazily stroke him to get him rock hard, your wet pussy just patiently waiting right next to it.

“Are you gonna be able to take it?” he looks at you understanding, knowing how before you would end up so stretched out after. You nod your head, sure of your actions this time.

“I can.” you reply. Once he’s fully hard, you trace a finger on the veins on his dick. Each and every one. You lick your lips before letting out a string of saliva fall down his cock, lubricating it a bit before positioning his tip on your hole. You take a deep breath as you sit on him slowly. He stretches you out more and more, and he insists on slowing everything down for you but you were so desperate to have him inside you that you just didn’t care anymore.

He keeps telling you to stop for yourself, to pull out if it’s too much. Instead you shush him, leaning your head back as you let yourself down on him. When you finally take him whole, your body shakes slightly at the feeling. You feel so full right now, so stretched. But there’s no way you’re pulling away.

His members start wondering where he is, and how they keep hearing breathing as he’s not in the game and he’s been missing for so long already. You panic a little upon hearing them ask about Jake but instead you just close your eyes, feeling his tip in your deepest spot.

“Oh fucks… sake. You’re so.. damn huge.” you whisper cry to him. He giggles a bit, only looking at you the whole time. “Let me see you move on it.” he grabs onto your waist gently.

You suck on your bottom lip as you sit back up, then back down on him. You start off with small bounces and somehow it never gets easier, no matter how many times you’ve both done this before. You do go slow for your own good, and he lets you go at your own pace.

He admires your pretty face contorting in all ways to his dick, but that just might be his favourite part. He loves how you react. You try your best picking up your pace, figuring he might’ve gotten bored already.

But it was the exact opposite, he didn’t mind, he wanted you to feel comfortable. You grind yourself on him a bit faster and he lets out a groan. “You’re so tight around me.. sweetheart..” he thinks he hasn’t stretched you out enough beforehand. “We can.. do it..” you say, already out of breath.

You spread your legs a bit more, releasing a bit of tension on him. You succeed bouncing on his big cock, whilst using his shoulders as handles. “You’re taking it so good..” he whispers. You go faster at his praises.

He’s been stretching you out for a while now, and it definitely got easier over time. The slight discomfort turned into satisfying pleasure for you. His swollen tip hits your g-spot every single time, making you want to cum right there. However, he’s been wanting to finish ever since you started. You feel so good wrapped around him he’s surprised he hasn’t let out a moan yet.

He rests his head on the chair enjoying your every move on him. You go faster again, getting closer to cumming again. Your puffy cunt is crying at this point, while you let out a slight moan with every bounce.

At this point his friends might’ve caught on, but you couldn’t care less, you just needed him and that’s it. You keep going for a bit before, before rolling your eyes back to cum. “I’m— again… I… oh m… Jake..” you struggle.

You don’t get to say anything else because you instantly finish again, your thighs shaking on top of him. You moan ever louder than before and your squirt runs down his legs now. He bites his lower lip, making you keep going with his palms on your ass. Your tired body keeps bouncing on him, and after a few more bounces, he cums all deep inside you. His dick twitches in sync with his moans after pulling out. His cum slowly pours out of you and onto the chair. You both sit like that for a few minutes to regain your thoughts, but instead he just grabs your ass again, shoving you back onto his cock.

A bit of cum shoves back into you too, a white ring forming around his base. You wrap your arms around his neck, as well as your head buried deep into it. You give his hot skin multiple kisses with heavy breaths. You both end up sweaty, breathing your lungs out. He keeps his dick inside you, without moving you or anything. He moves his chair back to his desk, getting that headset off you. Before placing it on his head, he gives your exposed ear a kiss. “Such a good girl, you took me so well.” he says before putting his headset back on and fixing his mic to his mouth.

“Hey guys, sorry I was gone for so long. Just wanted to make my girl happy.”

[engineofhelll]

[Image description: An infographic in English that reads:

If immigration agents show up at your door:

Don’t open the door. Be calm. You have rights.

If they ask to enter, ask if they have a warrant signed by a judge. If so, ask to see it.

An ICE administrative warrant (Form 1-200, 1-205) does not allow them to enter your home without your consent.

If they do not have a warrant signed by a judge, you may refuse to let them in.

If they force their way in, don’t resist. Tell everyone in the residence to remain silent.

If you are arrested, remain silent and do not sign anything until you speak to a lawyer.

Source: Know your rights: What to do if immigration agents (ICE) are at your door - ACLU. End ID.]

The Immigrant Legal Resource Center provides “red cards” that you can download and print for free to use and share with your community. These cards include instructions much like the ones above in a variety of languages. The other side of the card is a statement in English that is meant to be shown to ICE, ideally by sliding it under a door.

[itadorey]

𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐓! — gojo satoru

pairing: gojo x gn!reader summary: little snippets showing how gojo satoru has always been a pain in your ass genre: fluff and angst #lol #soz word count: ~3k notes: sorry. spoilers for shibuya arc and onwards, mentions of jjk 236. also this is the only thing i've written in months so i'm kinda rusty

Gojo Satoru is a pain in the ass.

More specifically, he's a pain in your ass, especially once he discovered that you're so much easier to rile up than Utahime.

It starts in high school, with meaningless bets made between the two of you that all result in endless lectures and reprimands from your respective school principals. But it's hard for you to stop agreeing to these deals when Gojo offers you a week without his presence if you manage to win.

Victories for you have become more common in recent years, with you learning how to words your agreements in a sly way that makes Gojo huff out a little laugh whenever you manage to outwit him. But your losses far outweigh your triumphs and you constantly find yourself dragged onto missions or out to new restaurants whenever Gojo wins. Which happens to be pretty often.

"I bet that the first years can beat you in a fight," Gojo says, snickering when you shoot him a nasty look. He takes a step closer to you, pouting when you distance yourself from him and speed up.

"I bet you that they can't," you retort, unable to stop yourself from disputing his statement. You don't turn to look at him, merely grumbling under your breath when he easily matches your stride.

You have no idea how you've ended up here, transferred (against your will you might add!) to Tokyo Jujutsu High to teach alongside the only man who has ever made you feel feral. And not in a good way.

The very reason for your arrival is none other than Okkotsu Yuuta, an overpowered, meek-looking teen with a cursed technique that seems to be a little more trouble than you originally thought. That's the only thing going through your mind when you're introduced to him, leaving you inattentive to the way Gojo slings an arm over your shoulders and introduces you as his significant other to the first years.

You're only brought back to the present when Panda— yes, an actual panda— congratulates you loudly, causing you to scowl and push Gojo far, far, away from you. You're the only one who doesn't notice how you actually make brief physical contact with him.

"I am not dating him. I'm your new instructor," you say sharply, introducing yourself before turning and walking out the door. The first years all share a glance before following, Zenin Maki leading the small group as she eyes you with interest. You come to a stop in the middle of the training field before flashing them a grin that can only be described as dangerous. "Now, we're going to see how much combat experience you have, so give me all you've got."

You then proceed to take on all four of the first years, all too aware of the way Gojo's stare never leaves your figure. At the end of the day, you're the proud winner of a Gojo-free week.

Your first year teaching at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech is a tumultuous one.

You learn to treasure your friends a little more, and you find yourself thinking that you've become a pro when it comes to grieving.

(You remember Geto's defeated form as you arrived just in time to see the last smile he ever gave Gojo right before he took his last breath—)

The stress of everything even has you appreciating Gojo's presence in your life a little more, and when you tell Shoko this development, she merely snorts and pulls out a cigarette. You chide her for failing to break her habit even after she's promised you multiple times, only falling silent when you realize just how tired she looks.

You've become a pro at grieving, but that doesn't mean everyone else has, so you silently slide the cigarette packet back towards her and leave her to mourn in a way that seems to work for her.

The months that follow feel like a blur, and you get sent on plenty of missions to fill time. Your bets with Gojo seem to occur more often, and you find that you don't necessarily dislike hanging out with him whenever he wins. You wonder if the previous year has helped him mellow out, and you find yourself thinking a friendship with Gojo is possible. Especially after everything the two of you have dealt with.

Your appreciation for Gojo ends up fizzling out when you learn from Maki that he's been telling the new first year, Fushiguro Megumi, the same lies he tried telling the second years when you first arrive. It isn't long before you find out that Megumi is incredibly perceptive, and he doesn't fall victim to Gojo's lies about your nonexistent relationship.

Unfortunately, the two other first years aren't necessarily as... insightful as Megumi is, and all it takes is for them to see the way Gojo smiles when he's around you to believe that the two of you are meant to be.

Itadori Yuuji is a young boy that you think is a little wise beyond his years. When you hear about how he ate— yes, consumed— Sukuna's finger, you change your mind. He's seen a lot in the past few days, and it almost amuses you to see just how upbeat but jaded he seems. Seeing him interact with Megumi reminds you of sweeter times, back when you were their age and spent your afternoons sharing snacks and chatting with Utahime, and you feel an awful heaviness weighing down your heart when you realize just how small they seem.

You're tending to Megumi's wounds when you meet Yuuji for the first time, and you can't help but roll your eyes when you hear Gojo call out your name.

"This is my partner," he whispers loudly to Yuuji, lips turned up in a fond smile as you give Megumi the all clear. There's a mildly irritated huff that escapes you as you turn to greet the newest first year, but you can't help the way your lips twitch when Gojo tries to pinch your cheek and you swat his hand away. Megumi's suspicious eyebrow raise goes unnoticed by you as Yuuji bows in greeting, an easy smile on his face as he looks between you and Gojo.

"The two of you make a nice couple," he comments before his gaze drifts over to Megumi. You open your mouth to dispute Yuuji's statement but he makes his way over to Megumi before you have the chance to actually speak. "Woah! Fushiguro, what happened to you?"

The two boys walk into Megumi's bedroom, softly conversing as Yuuji pokes at the bandage on his cheek. You watch them fondly, sighing softly before turning around to leave.

"I bet I can also convince the third first year that we're dating," Gojo sings as he walks beside you, causing you to flinch away from him.

"I bet you can't," you respond automatically, feeling your stomach drop when he shoots you a cocky grin. He doesn't say anything before splitting off down another hall, shouting a quick goodbye to the two boys who are still wrapped up in conversation. You hope that Kugisaki Nobara is smarter than Yuuji.

Kugisaki Nobara is not smarter than Yuuji.

You have hope for the first five minutes you interact with her, fighting a smirk when you notice her immediate disdain towards Gojo. There's a judgmental look on her face as he introduces himself, and you can't help but straighten up when her gaze lands on you and her eyes sparkle with curiosity.

"It's very nice to meet you," you say softly, introducing yourself and giving her a soft smile. She smiles back at you, her expression becoming strained when Gojo pulls you into his side.

"We're dating!" he proclaims proudly, earning a quiet groan from you. Nobara looks between the two of you skeptically, and you feel confident that she's going to call out his lie until she turns to look at her fellow first years.

There's a bored look on Megumi's face, but Yuuji is nodding his head enthusiastically, his eyes shining as he glances at you and Gojo. You shake your head in response, and Megumi's lips twitch in amusement at your contrasting demeanors. Your embarrassed state is apparently proof enough for Nobara, and she gives you a sympathetic look as she turns to face you once more.

"You're so brave," she whispers to you, wiping a fake tear from her eye before turning to Gojo. "And you're punching above your weight."

She promptly turns around and walks off before he can respond, leaving you fighting back a giggle as Megumi and Yuuji follow her. Gojo wilts at her words momentarily before turning to give you a dazzling smile, lifting his blindfold just enough for you to see him wink at you.

"I win!" he declares, laughing when he notices the way your eyebrows furrow in frustration. He turns to follow after Nobara, casually reaching for your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours before pulling you along. "Come on! We can't stand here all day, we might lose the kids."

He smiles when you don't really make a move to pull your hand away from his and makes a mental note to take you to your favorite restaurant this time.

"I bet I can take out more curses than you."

Your statement is quiet, a familiar phrase meant to try and calm your nerves. You're met with a bored glance from Nanami, and you huff when he crosses his arms and shakes his head.

The atmosphere in Shibuya is unsettling, and even though you have complete faith in your abilities as a sorcerer, you can't help but feel a chill run down your spine when you think about what's to come.

"You should be making that bet with your boyfriend. Not me," Nanami says in response. You scowl at him in return, rolling your eyes when you catch sight of the amused smirk on his face.

"He is not my boyfriend," you mutter petulantly, all too aware of the way your statement lacks its usual bite. There's a quiet hum from Nanami before silence engulfs the two of you, and then—

"Are you sure about that?"

"Nanami!" you snap, feeling your cheeks warm as you turn to shove him. He barely moves, and you half-heartedly let out a string of curses as he chuckles. The tension you previously felt is broken momentarily, and you feel a brief moment of happiness as you joke with your friend. "Yes, I'm sure."

"I'm just saying," he continues, his tone even as he does his best to not give anything away. "Yuuji seems to think that the two of you are perfect for each other. I've heard quite a lot about how sweet he thinks the two of you are together."

"I can't believe Yuuji believed him," you mutter, shaking your head. There's a part of you that can't help but wonder what exactly it is that Yuuji sees that makes him think you and Gojo are a bona fide couple, but you tell yourself that now is not the time to dwell on that.

"Well, those younger than us tend to be more perceptive sometimes," Nanami says, unintentionally answering your internal question.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

There's another moment of silence between the two of you before Nanami calls your name, bringing your attention to him once more.

"I'll accept your bet, but when I win, you have to take Gojo out to dinner."

"When you win?" you ask mockingly, raising an eyebrow as you stare him down.

"Yes, when I win," he says, doubling down on his statement. "You need to take Gojo out. As in a date. Who knows? Maybe you'll finally understand Yuuji's point of view when it comes to you two."

"Deal," you say, eyes narrowing when he holds out his hand for you to shake.

That's the last time you ever have contact with Nanami, and later on in the night when you find his body, you can't help but wonder which one of you had actually won your silly bet.

But as you discovered a year ago, you're a pro at dealing with grief, so you give yourself fifteen minutes to collect yourself before setting out to find your students.

After all, you now have to figure out a way to get Gojo free from the prison realm and maybe even honor your bet with Nanami regardless of who won.

The relief you feel when you see Kurusu Hana unseal the prison realm is overwhelming.

When you get told by Shoko that she's giving Gojo a checkup, you act before you can stop yourself, bursting into the infirmary and throwing yourself into Gojo's arms. You let out a stuttered breath when he catches you effortlessly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as you hide your face in his neck, and when he laughs you can feel your throat tighten up as you try to hold back your tears.

"Missed me?" he asks, cocky tone still present in his voice. His actions present a stark difference to his tone, and you can't help but think to yourself that he's holding you so tightly because he's scared of being separated from you once more.

So much, you think to yourself. But you're as stubborn ever and so you resolutely shake your head, drawing another laugh out from him as turns his face to press a fleeting kiss to the crown of your head.

"I did," he murmurs, voice soft as he pulls you even closer. "Miss you, that is."

There's a moment of silence as Shoko pulls Ijichi away, attempting to give the two of you some privacy as she gathers up the necessary tools. There's a mischievous glint in her eye when Gojo gives her an appreciative nod, but she refrains from teasing either one of you for the time being.

You make a move to pull away from the hug, a soft gasp leaving your lips when Gojo's arms tighten around you and pull you flush against him. You fight against his hold, pulling back just enough to see the pout on his lips. A breathy laugh escapes you, and your hands come up to cradle his face as you take the moment to process the fact that he's finally back. There's a softness in his blue eyes that makes you choke up once more, and you impulsively pull his face towards yours and press a kiss to his forehead.

He freezes beneath your touch, eyes fluttering closed as his breath hitches. His arms loosen in shock and you take the opportunity to slip out of his hold, cheeks burning when you turn and see Shoko and Ijichi watching the two of you with matching smiles on their faces. Gojo's hand darts out to grab your wrist before you can get too far, and he gently pulls you to his side, resting his head on your shoulder as Shoko proceeds with her checkup.

The days leading up to December 24 are eerily calm, and you make sure to take time for yourself in order to properly grieve Nanami and pray for Megumi and check up on Nobara's condition. Gojo joins you most of the time, silent but always within reach, with his hand holding yours or resting comfortably along your back.

"You know," you randomly say, walking alongside Gojo on your way to meet up with everyone else. There's a pit in your stomach as you glance at him, the knowledge of his upcoming fight weighing heavy on your mind. "I actually made a bet with Nanami before he..."

"I thought that was our thing," Gojo muses. His eyes linger on you before he turns back to face the road in front of you, tucking his hands into his pocket with an air of nonchalance.

"Nanami said something along those lines too," you say, laughing softly at the memory. "He still agreed to it, but he said that if he won I'd have to take you out on a date."

"Oh?"

Your words have piqued Gojo's interest, and he comes to a stop at the top of a staircase. You can see Yuuji's tuft of pink hair in the distance, and you drag your eyes back to your companion as you come to a stop as well.

"Too bad we never found out who won," you say flatly.

"Oh," Gojo repeats, his dull tone matching yours. You turn to face the staircase once more, trying to ignore the way Gojo's stare burns into you. You don't think you'll ever get used to those eyes of him.

"How about we make a bet?" you say lightly. There's a twinkle in your eye that sends a thrill down Gojo's spine, and he smiles before motioning for you to continue. "I bet that you can't beat Sukuna. If I win, you leave me alone for longer than a week, even though I know that'll be hard for you. If you win, I'll take you out on a date."

"Sounds like an easy win to me," he comments, laughing when you toss him a sly grin over your shoulder. "Betting against the strongest? I think you're guaranteed to lose."

"Perhaps, but I can't imagine I'll be all too upset about it," is all you say, shrugging your shoulders before descending down the stairs. Gojo smiles dazedly for a couple more seconds before following after you, effortlessly scooping your hand and entangling your fingers the same way he did when the two of you met Nobara for the first time.

The two of you are greeted with grins from all the students, the sight of your linked hands a welcome reprieve from everything bad that's happened so far. You hold on tight to Gojo until the very last minute, now all too aware of how awful it is to truly have him missing from your everyday life. You are unaware of what's to come.

You thought you were a pro when it came to grieving, but winning the last bet you ever made with Gojo has proved you wrong.

ty for reading. rbs appreciated <3

[captain-huggy-bear]

Ain't That a Kick in the Head

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Nudity but in a totally non-sexual way (you share a bath)

Summary: You watch Clayton take a puck to the face, suffice to say you are very much worried for your boyfriend at the end of the game.

Notes: Y'know someone needs to psychoanalyse why I thought it was so hot that he took a puck to the face, got 12 stitches, came out, played and still scored? Someone want to explain that one to me?

I've not written Clayton before but @wannabehockeygf has me hooked so...I hope this is okay?

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"...that one up high caught Keller, let's hope Clayton is okay...he took that one right up in the face and he's headed to the room for some stitches I would imagine..."

"Keller's girlfriend has stood straight up from her seat, clearly not happy with what she's seen."

"Can you blame her? Keller's just taken a puck straight to the face and I imagine he's going to have more than a couple of stitches to fix that..."

It's an instinctive reaction really, to jump out of your seat at the way the puck soars into Clayton's face, the way he spins and falls to the ice. The blood that you can see pooling underneath his hand as he holds it tight to his eye and brow.

You've seen him get hurt before, seen him take hits to the boards, hits from other players, pucks to the ribs, sticks to the legs, but this...fuck, this was dangerous, this was scary. You're thankful for your seat overlooking the tunnel, thankful that you can reach a hand down as he makes his way off the ice, that even as he clutches a towel to his face to mop up the blood and try to stem the bleeding, he sees you, and reaches out briefly to touch your fingers, an attempt to reassure you that he's okay. That he'll be fine because fuck he knows you're probably freaking out about it.

Then all you can do is sit back down in your seat and wait. Waiting for him to come back out made you feel sick, stomach tied in knots, leg bouncing up and down in anxious impatience. Was he concussed? Was he in need of hospital? Or would it just be a few stitches to stop the bleeding? Had it done any serious damage to his skull? Was he actually okay? Was it just a flesh wound or something deeper?

It was taking too long, far too long, your eyes not even on the game, but on the tunnel waiting for him to reappear, watching people come and go back and forth each one not Clayton. Still you waited for that reappearance.

And reappear he did. Brow coated in blood, 12 stitches holding his face together, swollen, bruising planning it's spots as he stops at your section, looking up at you from the tunnel as you look down.

Your hand reaches out again and this time he holds it properly, fingers intertwining with yours to give your palm a tight squeeze, his ring digging into your skin slightly from how firmly he grips you. Like he needs to reassure you he's still strong, still good even as a blood drip starts to slide from the fresh stitches towards his eye.

"I'm okay, sweet girl," His voice is rough from overuse on the ice and he doesn't linger long, but it's enough to reassure you that he's at least fine, even if his face looks like he's been through the wars.

It's enough for you in that moment, enough for you to let his hand go, to watch him make his way to the bench even as that sick feeling still permeates your gut.

You spend the entirety of the second period watching him like a hawk, assessing to see if he should actually be out on the ice or not, relieved to see him skating well, stable, sturdy. Despite the physical wound he doesn't seem unwell and that is enough to settle you down a little, enough for you to start to enjoy the third period.

An enjoyment that is made 10 times better by Clay's empty net goal firmly confirming Utah's victory over the Winnipeg Jets. The moment the period is over and the players have left the ice you don't waste much time before making your way down to the locker rooms, leaning against the wall and waiting for Clayton to clean up and change.

He's out last, Kess stops to tell you he's just getting some of his stitches redone, and while you appreciate the heads up from the taller man it actually only serves to make you more anxious to see your boyfriend.

When he walks out he looks like he's been through the wars or been mugged badly or had a bad boxing match. New stitches means no quick shower, no water on them for at least a day and he still looks bloody, sweaty and definitely not okay. You can't imagine how uncomfortable he was putting his suit back on when he couldn't even have a proper wash, sweat causing his clothes to stick to his skin. Clayton's always been a stickler for cleanliness and you know he probably feels disgusting, probably hates it almost as much as the injury itself.

"Shit, Clay..." You gasp at seeing his face up close, his eye is bruising into a proper shiner, closing a little from all the swelling that's happening. The skin around starting to go a deep purple. There's an array of angry stitches holding his skin together, 12 to be exact, lined up neatly but clearly the only thing stopping more blood from falling down his face. They've clearly tried to clean as much of the old blood up as possible, but there's still enough left over that he looks rough around the edges.

"Right in the money maker, huh? It's okay if you think I'm ugly now, baby.." He's joking around as he steps into your space, trying to take that god awful look off your face. You look like you've seen a ghost, like you might be sick.

"Clay..." You reach for him as he leans over you, one arm leaning against the wall by your head, while your own hands cup his cheeks tilting his head so you can get a better look at his stitches.

"Sorry, sorry, just tryin' to get my girl to smile s'all..."

"I know..." He lets you get your fill, moving his head in whatever direction you tilt it while his free hand grips your hip. He wants you to believe he's fine but he knows you won't believe him, and in truth it fucking hurts taking a puck to the face. He's surprised he doesn't have a concussion. He feels a little sick, very gross and his face aches like nothing else.

"Clay...What do you need?" You, he thinks, just this. Just the soft way your thumbs brush his cheeks and tenderness with which you cradle his face, like he's not 170lbs of hockey player. He's not delicate and he knows that, you know that, but sometimes you treat him that way and it's nice sometimes. Nice to feel cared for.

He doesn't say any of that though, instead lets out a big sigh, "I need to go home, wash at least my body because I actually feel fucking gross..." He's still sweaty and he knows he needs help washing his hair without getting water on his stitches.

"Okay, I'm driving." You're reaching for his keys in pocket as quick as a whip, but he's quicker. Clayton's hand wrapping entirely around your wrist and stopping it from delving further into his pocket.

"You're not driving my car, baby. No." There's no amount of injury that could bring him to let you drive when that's his job and the grin he gives you is the sort you give a child who thinks they know better. It makes your eyes narrow.

"Clay, you took a puck going like 80 miles per hour to the face..."

"And I can still drive, and you are still and forever my passenger princess." It's not that he doesn't trust you to drive. You're a pretty decent driver, but that's not the dynamic you have. He drives you around. Always. If he can't then you drive yourself, but if both of you are in a car together? He's driving and you get to sit, relax and look pretty.

"You're impossible." You roll your eyes but concede defeat, pulling your hand from his pocket even as he continues to grip your wrist like now that he's got it the thought of letting go is preposterous.

"Impossibly handsome." Clay's hand moves from your wrist to slip into your own, fingers twisting together as he pulls away from the wall with you. His other hand tossing his car keys about with a jingling sound.

"Impossible hard headed."

"Ouch, that hurts, sweet girl." He finally gets a smile from you at that and that's all he wants as the two of you walk hand in hand to his car. If he's got to deal with stitches, bruising, swelling, then at least he gets to see you smile.

"Did it hurt more than the puck you took to the face tonight?"

"You're determined to not let me forget this aren't you?" He asks as he opens the passenger side door, watching you slip into the pristine seats because he'd be damned if he ever let his car fall into disarray.

You're quiet for a few moments as he leans over you to pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it into place. It's the proximity of him to you that's probably the only reason he actually hears your next whispered words as you look at your hands in your lap.

"...I was really worried, Clay..."

Clayton sighs heavily, large hand cupping your cheek until you look at him. You grip his wrist, fingers playing with the array of bracelets he always has there.

"I know, baby, but I'm okay. I promise. Got some stitches, no concussion, I'll be a little ugly for a bit but..." All Clay ever wants is for you to be happy, the worst part about getting hurt is that he knows you're stressing about. He's fine, but he knows he looks like he's gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson and he'll probably look like that for awhile. He also knows you worry, and you'll worry over him until he looks completely back to normal.

"You could never be ugly," He smiles at the way you frown at him, like it's the worst thing he could do right now to insult himself, "You're just fishing for compliments." Your eyes soften under his smile and the frown loses some of its bite.

"You're the one biting, sweet girl."

"Shut up and drive us home."

"As you wish." Clayton presses a quick kiss to your lips, pulling out of the passenger side and closing the door on you. He's quick to make his way round to the driver's side and even quicker to get the car started so he can start driving back to the house.

You watch him the whole time, eyes fliting from the stitches in his eyebrow to the way his left eye is swelling to the point you don't know if he'll be able to see out of it in a minute if you don't get ice on it. Clayton chooses to ignore the staring, hand reaching out to rest on your thigh, rubbing warm strokes across it as he drives, like always.

When you pull up you wait, like always, in your seat because Clay complains if he can't open the door for you and unbuckle your seatbelt. So you wait and let him do it, just as you let him wrap an arm around your shoulders and led you inside as if you're the one that needs the TLC and not him.

You only briefly watch him struggle out of the suit he'd worn to the game before stepping in to help. The medical team not letting him wash had meant his shirt and trousers stuck to him from all the sweat left on his skin, and the extra pair of hands was helpful as he shrugged off the button up he'd been wearing.

He lets you lead him into the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet seat and watching as you fuss around the bath tub. You're running him a bath even though you know he prefers showers because there's no way those stitches are staying dry in the shower, not with his ridiculous need for the most intense waterfall shower on earth.

Still, Clayton watches as you try to make the bath more enticing. Copious amounts of bubble bath, the sort that's designed for sore muscles, being thrown in, water running warm, but not too hot because he doesn't like his bath water to be as hot as the fires of hell. Unlike you. But, he draws the line at you helping him into water, it's his face that hurts not his legs, shrugging your hands away with an eyeroll when you go to reach to help him.

"I can get in on my own, baby."

He doesn't let the fussing annoying him because he knows you fuss out of concern and that any amount of fussing is still your attention on him. Fussing means you love him and if you took a puck to the face he knows he'd be fussing over you too.

You watch as Clayton eases himself into the water, a sigh rippling out from him as he slides into the warmth. His chains hitting the water because he'd never wear anything that wasn't solid enough not to tarnish over time, expensive taste as always. You watch the way he closes his eyes and just relaxes for a minute, skin turning slightly flush under the warmth of the water, neck pulled taut as his head tips back.

"You want me to help wash your hair?"

"Please, baby." It's sighed out, eyes still closed and you kneel next to the tub without a second thought, urging him to move forward and lean back until his hair touches the water.

You're careful about it, slowly wetting his hair, trying to avoid getting water on his stitches and while he might not want to be fussed over, this though? This Clayton can't help but love. The way your fingers thread through his brunet strands, how you stop occasionally to scratch at his scalp, the feeling of sweat and grime falling away? This is pretty much heaven.

You huff a laugh when Clayton groans a little while you massage shampoo into his roots. The pressure you apply making him sigh and groan like you're relieving knots in his back and it's sweet, how he can relax into this, into you, when he's normally the one giving and doesn't necessarily prefer to receive the care.

"You good, Clay?"

"Mmmm...." He hums and you smile down at him, the way he leans back into your hands, how his eyes remain closed, the content little smile on his face that just slightly shows his teeth.

You take extra care as you rinse the shampoo from his hair thoroughly, avoiding his stitches and his eyes as you do so, before getting him to sit up a little so you can place some conditioner on the ends.

"Get in with me..." His eyes are heavy lidded, like he doesn't quite have the energy to open them the entire way, a wet hand reaching out to grip your fingers, tugging lightly.

"Clay, there's barely any room left." His legs take up half the tub, you're a little concerned that you plus water displacement will result in water all over the floor of the bathroom. Another injury waiting to happen when one of you inevitably slips on wet tile.

"Please, just want to hold you for a bit, no funny business, sweet girl, promise." His cheeky little smirk that shows the dimples on one side of his mouth doesn't exactly fill you with confidence in his words, but the water is still warm and there's something always enticing about Clay, he has a way of convincing you to do something even if you shouldn't.

"Mmm, sounds likely..."

"Seriously, just want to hold you...I'm an injured man..." He pulls the guilt trip card, biting on his bottom lip. Something which would have looked sexier if half his face wasn't swollen up like a balloon. Still, you've never been good at saying no to Clayton even if you probably should from time to time.

"Fine..." You sigh, pretending to be reluctant even as you strip your clothes off, ignoring the way his eyes light up like a kid in a candy store, and step into the bath water with him.

It's a little tight, the water rising to levels that are mildly concerning before the overflow drain does the job of removing the excess water. Your legs twine with Clayton's and his arms slide around your waist until he can pull you comfortably back to lay against him, your back to his chest. It's funny, how you can be completely naked and feel completely comfortable like this with someone, every little touch is comforting rather than sexual, every kiss to your shoulder an attempt to be connect to you rather than start something intimate.

"Clay?" You wince out, the sensation of metal digging into your back causing you to squirm slightly in his lap, water sloshing nearer to the sides of the tub.

"Mmm...?"

"Can...can you move your chains? They're digging into my shoulder."

"Shit, sorry, baby." He's quick to do so, the chains being thrown over his shoulder and out of the way until settling against him is more comfortable, the rise and fall of his chest meeting your back in a rhythm that helps any residual anxiety from the events of the day melt away.

"You comfy, sweet girl?" He presses a kiss to your temple and you smile into it, humming as you lean as much of your weight back into him as you can.

"Yeah, you?"

"Mmm, might have to stay here..." He's tracing circles on you tummy, a series of circles that meet in a variety of patterns that remind you of crop circles from all those conspiracy theory and unsolved mystery shows Clay likes to watch when he can't sleep. Every few seconds a kiss lands somewhere else, whether your temple, your cheek, your neck or your shoulder. Each is quick and soft, but no less delightful. It's all so soft, the world feels like its humming a little.

"The water'll get cold."

"Good thing I run warm..." He tries to argue with you, like always, a sassy little remark to entice you to stay in the moment even if neither of you can.

"Clay, we're not staying in here all night, we'll die of pneumonia or something."

"Would be worth it." He grins into your shoulder, eyes relaxing when you reach a hand back to scratch his scalp and play with his hair. He's tired, so fucking tired and his face still aches like a bitch but this is nice, this so nice.

"We should really get some ice on your face, try and take some of the swelling down."

"Do we have to?" The idea of putting ice on his face right now is anything but appealing, but he knows you're right. His face is already pretty swollen and bruised and it's only going to get worse if he doesn't look after it.

"Do you want to be able to see from your left eye in the morning?"

"Good point, just...5 more minutes, baby?"

"5 more minutes." You let him have his 5 more minutes and then some, using the time to get clean yourself and rinse conditioner from his hair before the two of you stand from the bath after the water has cooled significantly.

He's sat crossed legged on the bed in a cosy hoodie and boxers by the time you've put together a makeshift icepack, ice piled up into a ratty old tea towel you got when you first moved out.

The look he gives the icepack is nothing short of disdainful, a glare that's combined with a pout of his top lip like the icepack has personally offended him already when it hasn't even touched him. If anyone should glare it's you because your hands are getting cold.

"The only way that is touching my face is if you're sat in my lap, sweet girl." He pats his thighs like its a given, like you'll just go over and plonk yourself down without question.

"You already agreed to ice your face, Clayton John Keller." Your hands find your hips, a stance Clayton calls your mom stance and it's extra apt when you're using his full name like that. Not that that deters him from his goal of having you wrapped up on his lap because that's the only thing that might make ice to the face semi-bearable.

"Only if you sit in my lap."

"That is not the original agreement."

"Yeah, well, trade talks, deals get renegotiated all the time." He shrugs with a smirk, pulling out the dimples because he knows you struggle to be stubborn when he does that and as much as you hate it...he's fucking charming and it works. You're sighing and stomping over like you're not totally endeared by him, letting him pull you up and onto his lap without any real protest until your legs are wrapped around his waist, your butt sat perfectly in the hollow created by him sitting crisscrossed.

"You are incredibly difficult to care for, Mr Keller." You grumble as you cup his face with one hand and raise the makeshift icepack to his eye with the other.

"Can you really deny an injured man small comforts like his girlfriend in his lap?" His smirk only widens until it doesn't, a hiss leaving his lips at the way it pulls on his stitches as his eyebrow moves.

"Mmm, you're ridiculous." You're smiling when you say it and that alone lets Clayton know that you're enjoying this as much as him.

He hisses again when the cold finally touches his skin, almost jerking back but your hand on his cheek stops him from going very far. The icepack is cold, so fucking cold, and he knows you're going to force it to stay there until you're satisfied that some of the swelling has gone down. You're cruel like that.

Clayton's hands fall to your hips, fingers clenching and gripping onto you, not painfully, but firmly enough that you know he hates this, hates the sensation of ice on his skin even if there's a tea towel in between.

You try to make it as bearable as possible, pressing kisses to the right side of his face even as the left faces the terrible ordeal of icing. The kisses have Clayton humming, hands stroking from your hips to your waist and back down again in a rhythmic motion that brings back memories of every make out session you've ever had with the man, and that you wouldn't be having until you were certain his face wasn't swollen and bruised.

When you finally pull the icepack away his face is less swollen, eye still partially closed, but no less bruised, you know the purple is going to eventually fade to a horrible yellow. You throw the damp tea towel into the laundry basket from where you're sat, excellent aim that has you letting out a little cheer that gets Clayton smiling up at you.

"Thank you, sweet girl, always taking care of me..." He presses a kiss to your lips, short and sweet, only because you refuse to let him stay there too long, determined to let the man rest.

"Yeah, well, you're always taking care of me too."

[d-emeter]

Breakfast, lunch and dinner (or: cod characters and how they eat you out) — plus-size!fem!reader x cod characters

Includes: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, König, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria

Note: take this as my formal apology for being inactive for so long :') exam week had me hanging on by a thread and i'm also suddenly moving so. yay. expect some more action after like... this week i hope

John Price

Listen. Getting eaten out by Captain Price is not, in any way, meant for your pleasure. No, this is him disciplining you. It hardly even matters what for. Maybe you have been teasing him, sliding your hand up his thigh under the table, rubbing your ass against him while passing by him. Maybe you've been a brat all day, complaining and huffing and puffing about everything, barely listening to any of John's requests and/or demands. Either way, sit on his desk and spread your fucking legs, doll. He'll be edging you for what feels like hours, tongue moving so torturously slow that all coherent thought has seeped from your brain aside from how badly you want to cum. Too bad, bad girls don't deserve to finish this easily.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

With Simon, it's always a surprise what position you'll end up in. The only certainty you have is that it's definitely not what you'd expect, and sometimes you wish that for once he'd just lay you down and get busy. But alas, he'll have you kneeling with your face in the pillows, or bent over the back of the couch. Maybe he'll have you hanging off the edge of the bed so all the blood flows to your already overheating brain. You're clinging onto whatever you can get a hold on, mostly in pleasure, and sometimes in fear of falling when he has you up on his shoulders and leaned against the wall. Well, he doesn't exactly hear your complaining over your moans and whimpers, he argues, and he wouldn't dream of dropping you.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

As with Price, this has little to do with your pleasure: it's all for his own benefit. Please, lass, he loves your cunt, and she loves him, doesn't she? Come on, let him have a taste. He could give two shits about where you are or how convenient it is— if he wants to lick your pussy, he's going to. He's down on his knees while you're desperately clinging onto the kitchen counter, or the shower wall, or the shelves of your pantry. Hell, you'd have to hope and pray a sales associate won't come by your changing room in fear of them hearing all of his moans. Oh, and you quickly find out you cannot wear a skirt around him, because it won't come down from your hips if he has any say in it.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

He's devastatingly methodical. He knows your body better than you do at this point, and he's not afraid to use this to his advantage. He can work you just right, but the worst part is that he will refuse to. Unless you kindly ask him for it, that is. Tsk, pretty girl, use your words. Let him know where you need him, what you need him to do. He's hovering close enough that you can feel his breath on your neglected clit, your cunt clenching around nothing in desperate search for friction of any kind, but he won't do anything until you tell him in excruciating detail what you want. And be aware, any time you stop talking, he's pulling away in a second.

König

Oh, König... Sweet, wet-rag-of-a-man loser that he is, will completely lose his mind any time you allow him near your pussy. He can practically feel his brain melting while he's drowning himself in your slick, and he looks like it too. His eyes have rolled back, face flushed and his eyebrows scrunched in pure, unadulterated pleasure. His body has turned to complete mush, his cock leaking against the sheets and hands clawing onto any part of your body he can reach (which, with his arms, is basically everywhere). Unintelligible mumbles made into your cunt, teetering the edge between praise and begging. He is a little inexperienced, Schatz, so you'll have to show him how you like it. Shove his face between your folds and ride his nose, and you'll have him moaning like a bitch in heat. When he finally comes back up for air you can tell you're not the only one that reached heaven just now.

Philip Graves

I'm going to speak my truth here, he does not strike me as the kind of man to give you oral all that much. I am SORRY, but it's true. He usually prefers to get you nice and ready for him with his fingers, or by having you ride his thigh, or simply from the absolute filth he spews into your ear while dry-humping. However, on the odd occasion that Phil does get down and dirty, he aims to make it special. It's strangely sentimental, actually. It'd be outside on a picnic blanket after his homecoming, or in your shared bed after your anniversary dinner. Anything that reminds him how much he loves you, and how much you mean to him, and he's going to show you with his tongue. There's reverence in every suck, praise in every lick and prayer in every word he murmers into your core. You're his goddess and he's just here to worship you, baby.

Alejandro Vargas

For Ale, it'd be a form of gratuity much in the same way it is for Graves, though the difference is that he'll use that as an excuse even for the most menial things. His belly nice and full after your homecooked dinner, grin on his face and asking when his dessert is being served. You've been so good to him, amor, welcoming him home with a smile and a kiss and a plate waiting for him, now let him thank you properly. You fixed the button on his shirt that had fallen off? Well, put it on and lay yourself down, time to lap at your cunt in thanks. It's gotten to a point where you're convinced he just decided his goal in life is to pull as many orgasms from you as possible. Not that you're complaining, of course.

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parras

Eating you out is, in many ways, a means to an end for Rudy. He wants to make sure you're properly prepped and ready to take his cock, so it's almost instinctual for him to bury his face between your soft thighs for a while before inching himself into you. It's part of the routine, the way he thought sex was supposed to go. It's not until you explain to him that it can actually be the main event, and that you'd thoroughly enjoy it if he maybe put in a little more effort, that it dawns on him just how much he can actually do down there and how much time he's wasted not doing it. Now, tesoro, you may have shot yourself in the foot with that one, because he now can keep you pinned down for hours, just suckling away at your clit and fucking you on his tongue, dumb grin on his face after your fifth orgasm renders you basically comatose.

Valeria Garza

The only way Valeria will actually relax for once is with your pussy in her face. Seriously, you've tried everything else: lavender baths, deep tissue massages, even trying to get her to meditate. But no, the only time you actually see her shoulders lose all their tension is when she's between your folds. She's had such a long day, vida, come sit on her face. She's not even groping you the way she usually does during sex, hands instead playing idly with the fat of your thighs and ass while all her worries melt away. There are no thoughts running through her mind aside from how good you taste, how pretty you sound and how nice you feel under her hands.

[cmd1095]

All of you sinful degenerate submissives so kinky and horny and sexy

This is a command

Always commit the "Sin" of empathy

Always.

And don't let any fucking Nazi politicians convince you otherwise. My words are more important.

Because I have hypnotic control over you

But also because, you know, I'm not a fucking Nazi.

Seriously the fact this art even needs to exist is absurd I can't even stay in character fucking hell. Dropping the pretenses of this being hypno content

Be empathetic and kind to others. It is one of the most fundamental human characteristics. Anyone who voluntarily casts off that capacity is willingly turning themselves into something less than human, and NOT IN A KINKY WAY.

All of the most intelligent animals in the world develop a sense of empathy and fairness. Except maybe Orcas... but I bet they feel it for each other at least.

If empathy is a sin, it is original sin, the sin that made humans into what they are. Our ability to understand one another, build community, support and elevate each other. That's what made humanity into the dominant species of Earth.

Not our weapons, or our structures, or our persistence hunting. Not even our ability to farm. No one human could ever have risen above the wild untamed nature of the world.

It was because we supported each other, loved and cared and elevated each other not just as individuals but as a society. That is what made us into what we are, and the darkest times in our history all stem from when that principle was set aside, where we let hatred or pride or prejudice or most of all avarice supersede our love and empathy

Right now, we're seeing that happen in real time. Seeing "people" poison our society and erode the core of our humanity, to bring about dark times in which only they prosper and humanity slides into yet another dark age.

Those people have tossed aside their humanity, traded their souls for power and wealth, and they've convinced many others that doing the same will benefit them in the end. Reject this premise

Be empathetic, be kind, be loving. Shine brightly against that encroaching darkness. No matter how cold or cruel the world becomes, be the warmth and light that doesn't go out.

If we can do that, if we can keep that flame burning no matter what. Then eventually, these hard times will pass.

Well, this kinda bloated and ran away from me. I was originally just gonna do a quick little joke about hypnotically commanding you all to be empathetic but I guess I felt talkative this morning. But I'm keeping it, cause the message is important

If you've seen that one screencap, you know what it's about.

[cressidagrey]

Schrodinger's... Girlfriend? - Chapter 9: Of Bombshells and Big Disclosures

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Original Character

Summary:

Oscar Piastri’s love life is the talk of the F1 world—mainly because no one’s ever seen his girlfriend. Does she exist? Or is she just a figment of his imagination? Detective Lando Norris to the rescue!

Warnings: 

I don't think there are any?

“How did you even manage this?” Oscar asked her, as he lead her back to the McLaren Garage. “I thought you were going to write another final next week.”

“So did I,” Vanessa said with a snort. “Until the professor figured out that he got the date wrong on the syllabus…I wrote it on Friday already.”

It had been quite annoying, because orginally...Monday had been supposed to be the date...And that had messed up her study planning... but oh well.

 If she was only going to get a 94 instead of a 99, she was going to survive it. 

“So I thought…hey…I can make it to the race…2 hours later I had a flight booked," she told Oscar with a grin. Like there had been anything that would have stopped her from finally getting to see her boyfriend race from somewhere else other than the comfort of her couch.

Oscar squeezed her hand tightly.  “Thank you for coming,” he told her and she squeezed his hand right back.

“So, show me where the magic happens,” she teased him.

The next ten minutes was an absolute whirlwind of introductions around the McLaren garage, between engineers, strategists and mechanics, before Oscar pulled her into his driver’s room.

She had seen a lot of these throughout the last months, though she had always been on the other end of a facetime call.

Oscar closed the door behind them and grinned as Nessie looked around the room, eyes darting around the place, taking in his suit and helmet on the desk, before her gaze landed back on him and there was a sparkle in her eyes. She stepped closer to him and his arm wrapped around her back, tugging her closer against his chest.

“You have no idea how good it feels to have you here in person,” he murmured, his hands sliding down her sides, pulling her even closer against him.

She hummed softly as her head leaned against his shoulder, her face nuzzling against his neck. “Maybe I have a little bit of an idea,” she murmured against the skin, her lips brushing against his neck. “But it’s definitely much better than watching you through a screen.”

His hands slid beneath her top and onto her bare skin, fingertips drawing lazy circled onto the small of her back. “Much better,” he agreed with a low groan, one hand going up to grab the back of her head and tilt her face upwards for a proper kiss.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers tangling into the soft curls at the nape of his neck when she stepped as close to him as she could get. She sighed softly against his lips when they parted for a breath before she kissed him again, lips opening eagerly to deepen the kiss.

God, she had missed him.

Her hands slid down his chest, her fingers tracing his muscles through the thin fabric of his polo shirt. There was no doubt in his mind that he had missed her just as badly as she had missed him.

She pulled back, slightly breathless. “So how long until the race?” she asked him.

“Another 2 hours or so,” Oscar answered, chasing her lips for another kiss. “Lando is probably busy taking a nap right about now, otherwise he would have already come out screaming about you being real after all.”

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "He still thinks I am some sort of elaborate joke?” Vanessa asked curiously.

Oscar just sighed. “Who knows what is going on in that head of his,” he said with a long suffering sigh. “But I do know that he will absolutely flip out, when he sees you in person.”

“Can’t wait to see his face," she told him, her mouth already curving up into a smile just picturing the scenario that was about to unfold as soon as Lando found out about the fact that she was actually there in person. 

And Nessie got to see that earlier than they both thought.

A few minutes later, she sat cross legged in the corner of the sofa, while Oscar was shifting through stuff on his desk… And in walked Lando Norris, without even bothering to knock...or glance in her direction. His mind was clearly focused on whatever racing question he had for Oscar. “Osc, I’ve been thinking-”

Vanessa couldn’t help it. She leaned back against the sofa, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Lando,” she said, her voice cool and calm, “you don’t seriously still believe I’m not real, right?”

Lando froze in place, mid-sentence, eyes wide as he whipped around, scanning the room in disbelief. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His gaze landed on Vanessa, and it was as if the world stopped.

The high-pitched noise that came out of his mouth was enough to make Oscar nearly drop the stack of paper in hands in shock. Vanessa couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles, because that had been exactly the reaction she had hoped for.

“AHHHHHH!” Lando screamed, stumbling backward in shock. “WHAT THE HELL?!”

“Surprise," Vanessa said with a grin, her voice filled with amusement, clearly enjoying the absolute shock on Lando's face.

In one swift movement, Lando collided with a chair, falling backward into it with such force that it tipped over. He scrambled to his feet, half-hysterical, his voice rising in panic. “OH MY GOD, SHE’S REAL! SHE’S REAL!”

Watching Lando flail about like that was enough to send Vanessa into hysterical giggles, and she was pretty sure that the sound of her giggling was only adding to Lando’s already panicked state.

Oscar, on the other hand, had slumped against his desk, his entire body shaking with laughter at the sight of Lando, absolutely losing it over Vanessa’s existence.

“Lando, I told you she exists,” Oscar finally said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Lando practically scrambled towards him, grabbing onto his arm and shaking it as if his life depending on it. “She’s right THERE,” he shrieked, pointing at Vanessa frantically. “SHE IS!”

Vanessa couldn’t help another fit of giggles. “I am, indeed,” she said in a calm voice, still leaning back in the sofa, clearly enjoying herself.

Lando gaped at her, his eyes wide with astonishment, before whipping his head around to fix Oscar with a look that was a mix between shock and disbelief. “Why the hell is she here?”

Oscar couldn’t help but burst out laughing again. “What do you think? To see me.”

Lando spluttered, still clinging onto Oscar’s arm, his mouth working soundlessly. “But she’s— she’s—” he sputtered out, unable to finish a single sentence as his gaze wandered from Oscar to Vanessa and back, his mind clearly at war with what he was seeing.

“A living, breathing human being,” Vanessa filled in, her voice dripping with amusement. “Not a white whale...not a mannequin...not imaginary either."

Lando let out a strangled cry, his grip on Oscar’s arm tightening, as if he was afraid she was going to vanish into thin air any second now. "You’ve been dating her...this whole time...and she is just…here?” he managed to sputter out.

Oscar snorted, clearly enjoying Lando’s reaction a bit too much. “See? I told you I wasn’t messing with you. You really should’ve believed in the ‘white whale,’ mate.”

Lando, now starting to laugh at himself as the tension eased, shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve never been more embarrassed in my entire life. I screamed when I saw you. I thought I was going to pass out.”

Vanessa chuckled, crossing her arms as she shook her head. “You’re not the first person to be a little shocked by me.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Lando replied, finally getting to his feet, his face flushed from the whole ordeal. “I’m just... still processing it.”

Oscar clapped him on the shoulder, his grin widening. “No worries, mate. Just be glad you didn’t faint or something. That would’ve been a bit more embarrassing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando muttered, rolling his eyes but still laughing. “I’ll never hear the end of this, will I?”

“You’re going to hear it forever,” Oscar said with a grin.

“Oh, absolutely,” Vanessa joined in, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “This is prime material for future jokes and jabs."

Lando groaned dramatically, burying his face in his hands. “You two are going to be the death of me, you know that, right?”

"Oh, come on, Lando," Oscar said, his tone almost mockingly cheerful. "We're just keeping you on your toes. It's all in good fun, mate."

"It's very nice to meet you though," Vanessa said brightly. "I have heard a lot about you, Lando."

Lando's expression turned from one of mock despair to a genuine smile at her words. "Yeah, likewise," he replied, his voice still tinged with a hint of sheepishness. "Sorry about, you know, the whole..." he trailed off, waving.

"Making the whole internet think I didn't exist or that I was Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster?" she asked drily. "Don't worry, I found it quite amusing."

Lando winced with an embarrassed grin, his cheeks flushing once more. "Yeah, that," he admitted sheepishly. "It was all a bit ridiculous."

She shrugged, a bemused smile playing at the edges of her lips. “I’ll admit, it was rather funny seeing everyone online debating my existence."

[fluentmoviequoter]

Anatomy of a Relationship

Requested Here!

Pairing: (established) Tim Bradford x fem!neurosurgeon!reader

Summary: When your friend comes over in the middle of the night to talk about guy problems, Tim finds out what your relationships really mean to you.

Warnings: brief angst, fluff, a Castle reference, Karah is loosely based on Regine from Living Single

Word Count: 1.8k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Rules/Info

“11.25 millimeters,” you read. “That’s not good.”

“What’s not good?” your best friend, Karah, whispers as she lays her hand on your shoulder.

“I just got an MRI with an 11.25-millimeter aneurysm attached to the basilar artery,” you answer. “What’s up?” you murmur, flipping the page.

“Nothing,” she sighs.

“That was convincing.”

“It’s not as important as a brain aneurysm.”

You set your clipboard on your desk and turn toward Karah, shaking your head as you smile at her. “Most things aren’t, but I’m sure I can manage it.”

Before Karah answers, your phone rings. You mouth an apology as you answer and say your name.

“Got it, on my way,” you assure before you end the call. As you gather your things, you tell Karah, “We will talk later. Promise.”

“Go save a life!”

“I have been looking everywhere for you!” you exclaim as you enter a supply closet.

Karah hums but doesn’t speak past the nail polish applicator held between her teeth.

“Pretty color,” you muse as you sit beside her on a gurney.

“Thanks,” she replies as she removes the applicator. “Want some?”

“Surgical board frowns upon painted nails,” you remind her.

“Hence, why I’m doing my toe-sies,” Karah singsongs. “What are you doing with Sergeant Bradford tonight?”

“As little as possible, I hope. What are you doing tonight? Another date with the mystery man?”

“Another date, yes. Mystery man, no.”

“What happened?”

“Have you ever watched a cartoon where the characters kiss and they just kinda…” Karah closes the nail polish and shoves her palms together in demonstration.

“Sure,” you answer, nodding. “The PG version with no emotion and no lips.”

“Yeah, that’s how he kissed.”

“Ugh.” You shiver for emphasis, and Karah nods emphatically.

“And his lips were chapped, too.”

“We can’t have anything in this life.”

Karah scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Right, because you have it so bad with a hot police officer.”

“A hot police officer who cancels dates weekly and has minimal emotional availability.”

“But you love him,” she reminds you.

“That I do. Look, I’ve got a consult call before I leave, but call me later, let me know how your date went, okay?”

“Will do. Enjoy your date, if it happens.”

You shove Karah gently as you slide off the gurney. Opening the door, you call, “Love you!” over your shoulder.

“Smooches!” she replies.

“Stop staring at me,” Tim demands as he locks your door.

“Answer the question!” you reply. “I can’t let you sleep here if you’re lying to me!”

“It’s fine.”

“Why? How do you know?”

Tim sighs and takes your face between his hands. “It’s fine,” he repeats.

You pout, pushing your lower lip out as you blink at him.

“My neighbor is watching Kojo, so it is fine if I stay tonight,” he assures you with a sigh.

Your brows furrow as you ask, “You asked your neighbor to watch Kojo? Presumptuous.”

“I… Never mind,” Tim murmurs, his hands still on your face.

“We should probably have some dessert,” you whisper, leaning into his touch. “Not like that, Tim, get your mind out of the gutter.”

Tim huffs a laugh, then kisses your forehead and drops his hands to your waist.

“Listen,” you request, not moving to get dessert. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I’m not asking you to make any big decisions or anything, but if you want to bring Kojo in the future, you can.”

“Thank you.”

“Although, he’d probably never want to leave because I’m nicer than you.”

Tim tightens his grip on your waist slowly, waiting until you grunt to smooth his palms against your shirt. He leans toward you, and you murmur, “Dessert can wait.”

Your front door clicks closed around midnight, and you sit up in bed. Tim shifts beside you but doesn’t wake as he rolls away. Soft footsteps pad down your hall, and you relax, recognizing the gait. Karah steps into your room with her hair pulled back messily and her cheeks red from scrubbing her makeup off.

“C’mon,” you invite her, patting the mattress.

Karah pulls back the comforter and sits beside you with a heavy sigh. You move closer to Tim and lay your hand on his back.

“Is it me?” Karah asks.

“I hope so, considering you’re in my bed,” you reply softly. “What’s going on? And don’t tell me nothing.”

“So, I went on a date with the vet, right? And the next day, he ghosts me. Then mystery man seems to be the one until we kiss and then there’s nothing there, no spark, no more mystery.”

“Tonight?”

“He wanted to move way too fast. Was I wrong for not wanting to? I mean, what if he was the one – or, at the least, the best I can get – and I ruined it because I asked him to slow down?”

“He wasn’t the one,” you assure her, wrapping her in a hug. “If he couldn’t respect that and made you uncomfortable, then he 100%, beyond a shadow of a doubt, was not the one. You’ll know when someone is the one or has a chance of being him.”

Karah looks over your shoulder at Tim’s back and asks, “Are you sure?”

With a smile, you promise, “I’m sure. When the right man comes along, things aren’t always comfortable, but you’re willing to fight to get back to that comfort.”

“Unless there isn’t a right man,” Karah adds, falling back against your pillow. “I try, I get out and date, but maybe it is just me.”

“Maybe.”

Karah’s eyes widen, and you argue, “Exactly. There is no way it’s you. There are nearly 4 million people living in Los Angeles, so what if you can’t find the one perfect person for you quickly?”

“That’s only 2 million men, and half of those are married or not interested. The pool is way down and I’ve been swimming.”

“49 people in every 10,000 have a brain aneurysm each year. Just because it’s a low number doesn’t mean I’m going to quit my job. The 30,000 people who have an aneurysm rupture every year wouldn’t have a neurosurgeon if we all thought like that.”

“I see your point,” Karah grumbles. “But I still hate it.”

“I get it. But maybe a break would clear out some of the wrong men.”

“How do I find what you have?”

“The way I did it? Pure luck. Besides, most of the cops we get in the hospital aren’t like this one.”

“Maybe I should call Rick and see if he’s still single.”

“Rick who let his ex-wife crash at his house and walk around half-naked while you were dating? I’m going to veto that option.”

“He was rich.”

“And a terrible person.”

You scoot back to sit against the headboard as Karah tells you more about what she’s feeling, and as the night goes on, you do your best friend duty and don’t notice that your hand strays to Tim every few minutes.

“Okay,” you interrupt after hours of talking. “We need a pick-me-up.”

“What?” Karah asks.

“Let’s go.”

You lead Karah out of your bed and into the kitchen. After placing your kettle on the stove to heat water, you unlock your phone and scroll through your music library until you find the perfect playlist. The Bluetooth speaker tucked under your upper cabinet plays the opening notes of 2000s pop before Kesha sings, “Hot and dangerous. If you’re one of us then roll with us.”

Karah gasps in excitement, then leans forward to do the handshake you made up during your first year working together. The music plays too loud for the early hour as you dance around the kitchen together, but you don’t care because it’s cheering Karah up, which is the goal. Each word makes you feel better, more upbeat, and ready to do anything and everything.

As the playlist moves forward to a Britney Spears song, you freeze. Tim stops between the end of the hall and the kitchen and looks from you to Karah and then back to you.

“Is this why I was so squished last night?” he asks.

You nod meekly, and he waves his hand at you as he moves toward the kettle and the cabinet where you keep your tea and coffee.

“Breakfast?” he asks.

“Please!” Karah answers.

“Yes,” you say as you dance past him. “Thank you.”

You turn the music down at the end of the song and ask Karah if she feels better.

“Mostly,” she admits. “Now I just need a guy who makes me feel like Hips Don’t Lie does. Sorry, Tim.”

“I’m not even here,” he encourages her. “And if I was, I wouldn’t get involved.”

You shrug and gesture for Karah to continue.

“There’s something I didn’t tell you yet,” she murmurs.

“Well now you have to.”

“I agreed to go on another date with Ryan, the guy from last night.”

“What?!” you exclaim. “Why?”

“He waited. I mean he made me feel awful for asking but he agreed.”

Tim turns and passes Karah a mug of coffee before he sets your favorite drink beside your hand. “Dump him,” he encourages. “He didn’t mean it, he’ll keep pushing and dishonesty of that kind almost always leads to a misdemeanor, minimum.”

You look at Tim with your brows raised, then agree, “He’s right. A guy like that will try to pressure into not waiting. Don’t let him make you do something you’re uncomfortable with for any reason.”

Karah’s phone buzzes, and she groans as she reads the message. “Jill called in sick again, so I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at the hospital?”

“If you’re lucky,” you tell her as you hug her. “And cancel on Ryan, or ghost him, but don’t see him again.”

“I will. Thanks, Tim!” she calls as she opens the door.

When you turn back toward Tim, he lays his palms on the counter and glares at you, but you can tell he’s hiding a smile.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a smile. “She needed to hear it from someone who wasn’t me.”

“Karah has a key. What would you do if one of my friends climbed into bed with us?” Tim inquires.

“Which friend?” you counter. “Because Lucy has a key to get in here too.”

Tim rolls his eyes and returns his attention to the food on the stove. “Make sure Karah leaves him and let me know if you need some help getting the message through to him.”

“Such a softie,” you muse as you raise your mug.

“What was that?” Tim challenges.

“I said will do, sir.”

Tim hums, so you stand and walk behind him. With your arms wrapped around his waist, you say, “I love you.”

“Then you’ll tell me how many people have a key to your door before I replace the lock.”

[domm1etae]

study session gone wrong (or right?)

you had been interested in kang yeosang for weeks now. the quiet, nerdy boy who sat two rows ahead of you, always scribbling notes in perfect handwriting, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. so when the teacher announced group assignments for the project, you wasted no time making sure you ended up with him.

now, here you were, sitting cross-legged on his bed, pretending to focus on the open textbook between you. yeosang, ever the diligent student, was explaining something about the enlightenment era, but you had long since stopped listening. instead, you were watching the way his lips moved, how his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, how his glasses slid down his nose every time he looked down.

you wanted to kiss him.

"are you even paying attention?" yeosang asked, voice tinged with amusement as he caught your lingering stare.

"not really," you admitted, shifting closer. his eyes widened slightly behind his glasses, and you could see the faintest hint of pink dusting his cheeks.

"you should," he murmured, but he didn't move away when you reached up, carefully sliding his glasses off his face. his breath hitched.

"i think i have a better idea."

you weren't sure who leaned in first, but the moment his lips met yours, everything else ceased to matter. yeosang, who you had assumed would be shy and hesitant, surprised you by tugging you into his lap, fingers digging into your waist. he kissed like he had been waiting for this—like he had spent just as much time staring at you when you weren’t looking.

the project was long forgotten as he pressed you down onto the mattress, lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then lower.

maybe you should study. later.

for now, you had something far more interesting to focus on.

[sordidmusings]

Ace is now up! He demanded many more words than I had intended any of these to be 💀 such is always my curse. I’m pretty happy with the whole thing but this ending section is my favorite. I need him goofy, I need him sweet, I need that little bit of rat boy energy. I just need him 😩

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Unfortunately, soreness begins to set in your hips and you have to move. Ace isn’t a big fan of the idea; you can tell from his grumble and his arm cinching around your waist. It's endearing, but no match for the protest in your joints.

“Ace, I’m sore,” you laugh out the complaint, too amused by his pouting. “Let’s lay down.”

“That I can agree to,” he says.

You doubt his words when you start to get off him and receive an indignant “hey”.

“Who said you were allowed to get off?”

“Pretty sure I was just letting us both get off.”

“I helped,” he pouts.

“That’s an understatement,” you reassure with two quick pats to his cheek. “But for real, I gotta get off so we can get settled.”

“Agree to disagree,” Ace chimes with that maddeningly bright and charming smile of his. It crinkles his nose a moment and scrunches his eyes in a way that brings out their glimmer and you’re sure you’d never be able to keep a disagreement against that face for long.

“Okay,” you sigh. “How are we going to do this?”

“Clumsily,” he answers without missing a beat and you laugh again.

“Okay, Commander, take the reins,” you say as you settle back into laying against him, happy to let him take over this clown show.

“Ooooo ‘commander’, huh? Wanna try calling me that next time?”

Instead of responding you give his back a half-hearted swat.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he reasons.

“I’m filing it away for later, but please Ace my poor hips. You’re gonna make me an old lady in my twenties,” you whine.

“At least you make a cute granny.” You can hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

“Move!” You laugh and he finally does.

He scoots you both back once, holding you tight through it while you giggle at the bumpy ride. Now back to the center of the bed, he shimmies for good measure and lays himself back. He holds his arms out for you to lay down against him however is comfortable and you just raise a brow at him.

“You’re gonna slip out.”

“I believe in you,” he says. He tried to be deadpan but his lips couldn’t resist the smile.

“There’s your first mistake,” you say and he just smiles wider.

You shift to the right so you can rotate your left leg out and down. You lean your weight on his chest for balance, a palm flat on each large pec, and slide your leg down and back right next to his. You shiver at the release in your joint and Ace shivers at the pressure on his chest and the jostle of your hips. His softened dick twitches in interest.

“Stop that, we need to sleep,” you reprimand with no real heat.

“I didn’t tell it to do that,” Ace deflects.

You chuckle and continue repositioning, leaning to the left this time. It feels just as nice when your right leg gets to be straight again and you can finally lay down. It feels a little strange to be lying directly on Ace’s middle instead of tucked to his side or spooning but it’s not unwelcome. It’s definitely not a permanent feature, though, and you tell him as much.

“Just for a while,” Ace promises. Much softer he adds, “Not ready yet.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Taking stock of your body, you feel a pleasant exhaustion and let it help you sink further into Ace. His hands rest gently on your back, one spread between your shoulder blades and one drawing shapes over your lower back. His thighs are so warm next to yours and the packed muscle feels so soft when he’s relaxed like this. The same goes for the pec currently being used as your pillow. Okay, maybe you could stay this way quite awhile; Ace is unfairly warm and comfortable and having him sit still half in you sates some instinct you didn’t know you had.

“Blanket?” Ace asks.

“Dealer’s choice,” is your non-committal response.

With some reaching and finagling, Ace manages to get a hold of the sheets and flap them to lay over you. He leaves them so that they cover your legs but make it no further than the small of your back. It lets the slight chill of the room continue to cool you off without going so far as to make you cold. It’s absolutely perfect with his high body temperature radiating below you. Yeah, you’re pretty sure you could drift off into some of the best sleep of your life just like this.

A thought strikes you.

“How did you stay hard that whole time?”

“I dunno,” he answers honestly through a yawn. Then he chuckles and adds, “maybe you just have a magic pussy.”

You laugh at the stupid joke, happy he’s relaxed enough in your relationship to joke more about sex now.

“Too bad you can’t go around testing that theory,” you sigh in mock sympathy.

Ace perks up and stares at you real strong. His eyes that were just fighting sleep are now full of life. You don’t say more and just let him look and stew on your words.

“Say it again but like I’m stupid?”

“That’s what I usually try to do.”

He barks a laugh.

“Damn, must be hard loving an idiot.”

“Not at all.” The tenderness that seeps from your words melts him straight through. Thinking better of leaving it (you know he knows you’re joking, but you also know that his mind is exceptionally cruel), you use the last of your energy to get up on your elbows and look him in the eyes. “You’re a dumbass sometimes, especially with those brothers of yours, but more than that you’re really smart.” You place a sweet kiss to his forehead. “And you’re strong and determined and reliable.” A kiss to one cheek. “And empathetic and sweet and thoughtful.” A kiss to the other one. “And you wanna know what you are more than anything else?”

“What?” His voice shakes and his eyes burn and he’s so exhausted from all the emotions of the night but they’ve also been the most precious things ever.

You rest your forehead to his and take a deep breath, savoring the moment.

“You’re very very easy to love.”

A kiss binds your words and lips.

Between Two Points - Masterlist

Stuck with many thoughts on one of my favorite smut tropes, "just the tip".

Each character will have a different plea and reaction to getting what they want but one thing remains the same, they need to feel you, even if only just a little. How will your favorite handle it?

Which ones would be good and stay with just the tip?

They wouldn’t disobey you, wanting to keep you happy, especially with them. Having just a little of your warmth is a gift anyway - who are they to press for more than you’re willing to give? They’ll always take the scraps you throw them and thank you for it all the while. After all, it’s from you. And you always make sure they feel good in the end; they’ve never left your bed without feeling pleasure turn their body trembly and their mind to mush. They’re sure just an inch from you is all they need to get there again, and maybe if they’re good they’ll even get a reward.

Sanji, Usopp, Mihawk, Ace, Buggy, Killer, Franky, Katakuri

Which ones would say it and mean it but then lose themselves to pleasure?

They wanted to listen to you; there were always great rewards when they did. It’s not their fault you feel so good. It’s not their fault that they can never seem to think straight when they touch you. Usually they’re allowed to keep touching you though so it doesn’t matter if they can’t think - becoming a being of instinct and need works well when you’re drowning in what you want. But what if you’re only allowed a sip? What would they do to quench their thirst?

Luffy, Law, Koby, Sabo, Zoro, Beckman, Corazon

Which ones say it and don’t mean it, planning to try distracting you while they do what they want?

They only agreed to get their foot in the door, to keep advancing for more and more and more. It’s so ridiculous you thought you could tell them what to do that it’s almost cute. You really thought you could deny them the thing they’ve come to crave above all else? They’d let you believe that for just a minute so that the lesson sinks in even deeper when they start doing what they want.

Kid, Doflamingo, Lucci

Which ones say it and don’t mean it, planning to tease you enough to make you beg them for more?

After all, they know you need them just as much as they need you. Why pretend that just a little is ever enough? Oh well, if it’ll make it easier to start touching you, they’ll do whatever you ask. Doesn’t mean they won’t steer it into what they know you need. They’ll remind you how alive they make you feel, how your nerves buzz so blissfully when you let them take your body. But it will only be a reminder, just enough pleasure to stoke the craving within you before they continually pull back with the reminder that you asked them for this. How long will it take before you’re the one begging and writhing, thinking of nothing but the need for more. Ah, how sweet it is to see the tables turn.

Shanks, Sir Crocodile, Smoker, Marco, Robin

And finally

Nami is in her own little zone

You promise her you’re just helping practice the stretch - she did want to practice bigger and bigger straps, loving the struggle of you opening her up and being so proud when she makes it. You’ve pulled out a new toy and she’s intimidated by the size but you promise her she only needs to get the tip tonight. That praise you start showering on her when you begin to sink in makes her head all hazy though. It warms her through, body, mind, and soul. Maybe she can get just a little more? Anything to keep you talking to her like that.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Most if not all of the characters listed will get their own smut for this with their own personal flavor of "just the tip". I hope you enjoyed! Please comment if you have any thoughts or suggestions 🤍

Masterlist

Sneak peak at Ace’s

[sugarwarachan]

thinking about izuku missing you on a long mission - mdni

your phone rings as you’re curling your body into bed, izuku’s familiar face lighting up your screen.

“hi sweetheart,” he says the moment you pick up. no matter how long you’ve been with izuku, the fact that years of pro hero work have scraped at his vocal cords always makes your stomach drop. the slight rasp makes his soft voice sound dangerous. "how’s my girl?"

you squish your face into the pillow, cradling the phone close. "okay. be better with you here."

"missing me, baby?" you hear rustling on his end, followed by a low grunt. "as much as I’m missing you?"

arousal hits you like a truck.

an image fills your head of izuku with his pants shucked down to his ankles, shirt between his teeth and hips desperately lifting off the bed. you roll onto your back, snaking a hand down into your pajama shorts. izuku’s unabashed desire for you never fails to make you wet, and sure enough, your fingers slide through your folds easily.

“wanna see, izu?”

he exhales sharply. “fuck. yeah, i’m gonna need to see you, baby. already soaking wet for me?”

you might hate to be apart from izuku for a mission, but you love what it does to his mouth. he hisses through his teeth when the picture you send goes through.

"love how wide you’re spreading those pretty legs, sweetheart." izuku’s voice is gravelly and rough. "missing my cock the way I’m missing your pussy? my fist isn’t the fucking same, princess, you know that? doesn’t grip me tight and snug like you do."

your skin flashes hot. "need me wrapped around you, izu?"

he groans low and filthy. your pussy flutters around nothing as you rub little circles on your clit. you might cum just from this, you think wildly.

"when I get home, I’m making you cum at least five times before I get my dick in you," izuku pants, teeth clenched between gasps. it’s been a week since he’s touched you, and not a single thing has relieved the ache in his cock. "want the lower half of my face fucking soaked in you, sweetheart, wanna ruin our sheets."

you whimper. his hand slides over the head of his cock, thumb rough over the slit, just like the way you touch him.

"fuck, you like the sound of that, don’t you? you’re making the sounds you make when you’re close."

"izu, honey, I wanna hear you cum first, okay?" it’s like you can barely get the sentence out. he bucks his hips hard into the ring of his fist.

"fuck. next time, baby, okay? cum with me now, can you do that?" he hears what sounds like sheets rustling and imagines you nodding your head furiously. god, you’re so fucking cute when you’re like this, pliant and begging. "rub that swollen clit of yours for me, I know you’re almost there. I’m right behind you, sweet girl."

"izuuuu," you wail. he’s memorized what you look like before you fall apart, head tossed back, eyes rolling up in your head, full mouth chanting his name. he conjures the image now, matches it to the sounds falling from your lips.

"there's my fucking girl, let me hear you." he feels his orgasm unfurl in his lower stomach, a keening ache that makes his rhythm falter.

can't wait till i'll home with you. don't forget to clean yourself up, baby. don't groan," he chuckles softly. "i'll be home soon enough to do it for you, and you know you don't like going to bed sticky."

"especially if you're not the cause," you tease sleepily. "night, izu. love you."

"love you, sweetheart. be home soon."

in such desperate need of comfort like this!! ˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are so appreciated <3

[monster-effer]

Oh okk my wifi been acting up lately💀 I requested hcs with all the l&ds men about how'd they react to finding out reader can secretly pole dance, sfw and nsfw hcs if you do nsfw please! Thank you!!💕

This was a really fun concept to write about!!

It seems I am incapable of describing things concisely because this turned out much longer than I expected LMAO, I hope you enjoy 💗💗💗

Sylus

Funnily enough, this starts from a game of tipsy Truth of Dare with Luke and Kieran. You chose truth and they asked you to tell them one unknown fact about yourself. You are a certified yapper when you’re tipsy so you blabbed about your pole dancing hobby then passed out and forgot about your confession.

Of course this info made its way back to Sylus (most likely that same night). And he was intrigued. He would tease you while asking why you’ve been keeping such an interesting hobby from him.

The very next day he would have a pole installed in one of the spare rooms of his home base.

The room would be decorated with in dark, seductive colors with ceiling lights that  showcase the pole and the immediate area around it.

There is no furniture in the room besides a plush black arm chair and a side table.

Sylus calls you over to the N109 Zone saying that he has a surprise for you.

When you arrive he’s all smirks and being more vague than usual. You also don’t miss the mischievous glint in his eyes.

As he lets you walk into the room first, you are speechless.

“Forgive me if this is too presumptuous kitten, but I couldn’t get the image of you pole dancing out of my mind. I have a request, why don’t you show me what you’ve learned so far?”

“What’s in it for me?”

Sylus chuckles huskily before replying “Have I ever left you empty handed? You know me better than that.”

You gulp at his offer and quickly don the outfit and shoes that are placed neatly near the pole in the room.

Sylus dims the lights in the room, with the ceiling lights over the pole brighter than the rest. He settles into the armchair and pours himself a glass of whiskey. He adjusts himself in his pants, already feeling his cock stiffen from the anticipation.

You stretch and take a few breaths to get yourself in the zone.

You connect your phone to the speaker in the room then play the first song from your pole dancing playlist.

Once you feel confident and ready, you make eye contact with Sylus and begin to sway to the seductive music.

Although you took several classes in person, you have never performed for anyone before.

You begin to slowly whine your hips to the beat and spin while maneuvering around the pole.

With Sylus’ full attention focused on you, you can’t help but feel like a goddess.

Sylus’ gaze is practically searing your skin. You begin to perspire from the effort you’re putting into this performance. Feeling bold, you slide all the way down the pole until your thighs are flush with the floor. Then, you crawl towards Sylus.

Sylus sharply inhales and puts down his emptied glass on the side table as he eagerly awaits what’s to come.

When you reach him, you place your hands on his knees and slowly rise to your feet. You flash a mischievous smile at him before straddling his lap. Then you wind your arms around his neck and look into his eyes as you grind down hard onto his lap.

Your breath intermingles as you hypnotize him with your undulating hips. When your performance ends you are lightly panting, nervously awaiting to hear his thoughts.

Sylus is mesmerized by the gift you’ve just given him. And he can’t help but to cup the right side of your face before pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

Your lips glide against one another before you both have to pull away to catch your breath.

“Does that mean you enjoyed the show?”

“You were exquisite my sweetie,” he says as he places his hands under your thighs and rises from the chair. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he walks towards the door of the room.

“Now, let me give you your prize for that outstanding performance.”

Zayne

Zayne is walking around downtown Linkon when something catches his eye. He sees someone that looks suspiciously like you in the window of a fitness class. He has eyes for no one else as he watched you swing effortlessly around the pole. Not wanting to be mistaken for a pervert, he only watches for a few more moments before continuing on his walk.

He ends up walking past his intended destination because he was lost in thought over what he saw. So many questions pop into his mind. Luckily it is Thursday, and he has plans with you this weekend.

Saturday morning finally arrives, and you are at Zayne’s door holding an assorted box of fruit flavored macaroons.

As you let yourself in with your key, you find Zayne washing dishes in his kitchen. He is lost in his thoughts because he doesn’t immediately notice you’ve come in. You place the macaroons on the kitchen counter before circling his waist with your arms and resting your head on his back.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” he says softly.

“I just arrived. A penny for your thoughts?”

He finishes washing the dish in his hand before he dries his hand on a clean dish towel. He untangles his body from yours so he can face you.

“I saw something interesting when I was taking a stroll in downtown Linkon earlier this week.”

“Oh? And what was so interesting that it’s stayed on your mind until now?”

Zayne pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose as a light blush overtakes his cheekbones.

“I saw someone who looked exactly like you a few days ago. They could have been your doppelgänger.”

It doesn’t immediately register in your mind that he’s talking about you yet.

“Oh? And what was my twin doing?”

He clears his throat before continuing. “Pole dancing,” he says in a low tone.

Your eyes widen as you connect the dots.

“O-oh,” you say shakily.”

“It’s a new hobby that I picked up recently. I didn’t think you, my doctor, would complain about me building muscle,” you reply cheekily.

“It seems you misunderstood me. I am far from complaining. I do have a request though.”

“And what is that?”

“I request an encore performance, just for me. Considering your medical condition, it is not advisable to begin a new exercise routine without first consulting your doctor.” He says with the smallest grin on his face.

“When is your next available appointment? I had a pole installed in my apartment a week ago. We can conduct your assessment there.”

Rafayel

Rafayel comes across your knee pads and skimpy outfit when he visits your apartment one day.

“What kind of event calls for this outfit cutie?” He asks while holding up your short shorts and knee pads.

IMO Rafayel would be very curious about your pole dancing skills. He would teasingly request a demonstration of your skills and he’d be adorably flustered as he watches your body wind up, down and around the pole.

The man would be flabbergasted and turned on at this demonstration of strength and the expression of freedom as you perform for him.

The sensual nature of this private show is heavy in the room. He’s never seen you look so confident and carefree before. He lets out a weak moan as he watches you and begins to palm his erection through his dress pants.

As a result of your performance, his libido and creativity are at an all time high.

He would have a pole installed in his studio and call you over one day.

He would request that you to hold various poses for him as he attempts to capture the raw sensuality you exude.

Rafayel would get so worked up while he paints that his ever steady hand begins to shake. Before he is done, he is begging for you to use him for your own pleasure. Whether it be riding his face, his cock or his fingers. Any of those get him off because your pleasure is his.

This develops into a pleasurable cycle.

One, two, three paintings later result in Rafayel being desperate and needy for you. More so than he already was. He is never letting you go.

And the paintings of you begin to pile up in his studio. But they aren’t for sale of course, they are for his eyes only.

Because to Rafayel you are the most captivating work of art he’s ever seen, and he will not share this side of you with the rich schmucks that can afford his art.

Caleb

Caleb finds out about your new hobby during one of his visits to Linkon. Instead of heading to his apartment in Skyhaven, he came over to your apartment for a change of pace.

When he walks into your apartment, he is immediately greeted by the pole you had installed in your living room.

He playfully raises his eyebrow and tilts his head to the side as he says, “I didn’t know you have this in you pipsqueak.”

You shrug and say, “I’m not a kid anymore Caleb.”

He slowly eyes you up and down. “Oh, there’s no doubt about that. How exactly did you start this new hobby?”

As you explain that you got into pole dancing for fun and strength building Caleb is nodding along with your reasoning.

“Strength building huh? Show me what you’ve learned so far princess.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest. But you eventually agree then go change into the performance outfit that gives you the most confidence.

Caleb is already feeling flustered when he sees the skimpy outfit you changed into. He has tried not to act on his long held crush but today may push him past his limit.

As you stretch you wonder if this is crossing the line for what is acceptable to do with a childhood friend/pseudo brother figure. Although you’ve denied it on multiple occasions, your feelings for Caleb lost their innocence well before this moment.

You grab your bluetooth speaker and turn on some music. As you lock gazes with Caleb you feel like this is the point of no return.

Caleb looks suspiciously comfortable seated on your living room couch, thighs spread wide and arms resting on the back of the sofa.

You gaze trails away from him as you close your eyes to get yourself into the zone. After taking a deep breath, you begin to strut around the pole. You seamlessly transition into a routine that you’ve practiced multiple times. But today it feels different, somehow more intimate because Caleb is watching you.

You lose yourself in the music as you climb the pole and twirl slowly down it. You feel so seductive in this moment as you lock eyes with Caleb and take in his reaction.

Caleb was already attracted to you because how could he not be? But tonight, he is struggling to hold back his possessive urges to stake his claim on you. In his mind, you have always been his and tonight he’s going to make sure you know it.

He doesn’t even wait for you to finish your routine before he activates his evol and pulls you right into his lap. His violet eyes were filled with lust as he takes in the surprised look on your face.

You are shook to say the least. Caleb doesn’t use his evol on you often, and when he has it was never for something like this. The tension between you two is thick as you look into each other’s eyes.

“I take it that you liked the show?”

“I’m sure you can feel how much I enjoyed it princess. From now on think I’ll be crashing at your place whenever I’m in town,” he says before pulling you into a messy kiss.

Xavier

Xavier finds out about your new hobby from overhearing a conversation you were having with Tara and Simone.

From the brief snippets he heard, it seemed like something you were really excited about. It made him wonder why you haven’t mentioned it to him yet. Since you two talk practically every day there have been plenty of opportunities to do so.

A few weeks pass before Xavier feels like he’s given you enough time. He decides to bring it up while you two laze around his apartment.

“I heard you talking to your coworkers about your new hobby.”

You choke on your boba tea.

“Did you now?”

“Yeah,” he answers breezily. “What is it?”

“I’m learning how to pole dance. It utilizes multiple muscle groups and I like how it makes me feel.”

Xavier is shocked but he doesn’t let it show on his face. “How does it make you feel?”

You whisper out “Strong…and beautiful.”

Xavier hums lightly at your answer.

“Are you allowed to record yourself in the classes you take?”

“I would have to check. But, I had a pole installed in my apartment a few days ago.”

A small smile appeared on Xavier’s face. “Can you show me your moves bunny?”

You send a flirtatious smile his way before standing up and walking towards his front door.

Let’s just say that Xavier is mystified by your hips. You show out for him just to see what causes him to lose his composure. It happens to be the moment that you slide down the pole, proceed to stand up and swivel your hips in a figure eight motion that does it.

Xavier flashes over to the pole, grabs you, then sits back on the couch while holding you in his lap. “Continue dancing,” is all he says in the commanding tone that makes your heart quiver. When you look in his eyes you realize you may have pushed him too hard.

You gyrate in his lap as you hold his gaze, charmed by his blue eyes that have darkened with lust.

His thumbs are digging into your hips, holding you in place. As if you’re trying to escape.

Xavier would 100% whisper some nasty shit into your ear while you continue to grind on him. Once he’s had enough let’s just say that your bed frame and pussy never recovered ♡.

[hyperfocusthusly]

Take me home

Day one of the @bucktommyfluffebruary - prompt ‘non sexual intimacy’

Notes: established relationship | words: 938 | rated: G

[Read on A03]

——-

Tommy doesn’t sit down on the bench as much as he collapses vaguely in its direction. He blinks slowly, eyes gritty with exhaustion. He gives up and just closes them, head tipped back against his locker. He can feel sleep pulling at the edges of his consciousness. He just wants to be able to click his fingers and be at home. He does not want to have to drive there.

The door to the locker room clangs as someone leaves and Tommy jerks upright. The fogginess of near sleep clouding his vision. Maybe driving would not be such a great idea. He twists and fumbles open the door of his locker, retrieving his phone. He scrubs his face with his palms and tries to concentrate long enough to find the right contact. He returns to his previous position, head tipped back on his locker, eyes closed as he listens to the phone ring.

“Hey love, everything okay?”

“Mmmm.” He tries to summon the energy to form real words.

“Bad shift?” Concern edges into Evan’s voice.

“No” Tommy can hear the roughness in his own voice. “Just long, didn’t get much sleep. Would you-” he falters momentarily, the feeling that he’s asking too much raising its head. He pushes it down, they’ve talked about this. “Would you come and pick me up? I don’t think me driving is a great idea right now.”

“Oh, yeah of course.” He can hear some movement on the other end of the phone as Evan moves through the house. Through their house. A smile pulls at Tommy’s lips at the thought.

“Give me twenty and I’ll be there.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The phone clicks off and Tommy is left in silence again. He takes a deep breath and feels himself relax, he settles in to wait for Evan.

——-

What feels like moments later, there is a gentle hand on his shoulder. Tommy blinks awake, sluggishly sits up, his back protesting the position he had let himself stay in for the last twenty minutes.

Evan’s smile is as bright as ever as he looks up from where he is crouched down in front of Tommy.

“Hey love.”

“Hey.”

Evan is fiddling with something on the floor, Tommy feels his legs being gently moved around. He tilts forwards and realises that Evan is untying his boots, carefully taking them off and setting them aside. Tommy groans, he’s still in his flight suit, the thought of having to get dressed feels vaguely overwhelming. He lifts his arms and fumbles with the poppers. His movements are slow and uncoordinated, the tiny metal clasp proving much more difficult than it should. Evan is there immediately, gently pushing his hands aside and releasing the poppers.

“It’s okay, let me do it.”

Evan slides his hands under the shoulders of the suit and frees Tommy’s arms, peppering gentle kisses along his collarbone as he goes.

Tommy leans into him, presses their cheeks together for a moment. It feels nice, to be taken care of. He’s not happy they broke up, all that time ago, but he can’t help but be grateful for the things it brought about. He’s always been so afraid of letting himself be known, be vulnerable but here, in this moment, he’s grateful for having broken through that barrier. Allowing himself to be so completely seen by Evan, it feels so beautifully intimate.

He is pulled from his thoughts by a gentle tap on his elbow,

“Lift your arms up for me, let’s get you into some clean clothes.”

Evan reaches over the top of him and pulls his bag out of the locker. Rummages through and pulls free a new set of clothes.

Before he knows it he is being pulled up off the bench, sweat pants secured around his waist. He lets himself fall into the crook of Evan’s neck.

“Thank you.” He mumbles into the soft skin there.

A hand runs up his back, holds him close.

“No problem darling, I’m always going to be here to help.”

Warmth stirs up in Tommy’s chest as he lets himself be guided out of the door.

——-

As they approach the jeep, Evan starts to rummage around in the bag over his shoulder, it’s awkward given that his other arm is being used to keep Tommy from sliding down onto the floor. He eyes the concrete, he could sleep there, it would probably be fine.

“Where are your keys?”

Tommy frowns,

“They are in the side pocket. I’m exhausted Evan, not drunk, you don’t have to confiscate them.”

Evan laughs, the sound is nice, drifting through Tommy’s ever slowing thoughts.

“I’m driving you home remember?”

Tommys sluggish mind fails to process what Evan is saying.

“But then you’ll have to leave your car here.”

Evan chuckles again. He is increasingly aware that Tommy looks like he’s about to collapse. But he can’t help but take a moment to look at his boyfriend, brows scrunched down adorably, trying to figure through Evan’s words.

Evan pulls out the keys and guides Tommy round to the passenger door. He opens it and helps Tommy in, who is, by this point, a bundle of uncoordinated limbs.

He smiles patiently as Tommy gets comfortable.

“My car is at home, I took an uber here, I am going to drive your car home. Then both of our cars will be at home.”

“Oh.”

Evan chuckles, Tommy is hardly awake anymore, his head dropping to rest on his shoulder.

Evan runs his fingers gently through his hair, presses a feather light kiss to his cheek

“Let’s get you home.”

Tagging some beloveds (as always let me know if you want to be added/removed): @leashybebes @livelaughlou @loucifersbitch @dark-alice-lilith @mmso-notlikethat @laundryandtaxesworld @hippolotamus @bucksaiga @littlepaws9 @sad-girl-hours23 @evansbuck-ley @jamieroyjamieroy @typicalopposite

@moonydanny @teenmaximoff @bucksboobs @ohithankyou @bi-bi-buckleys @rubydaiquiri @hellion-child @aringofsalt @sweaters-and-silly @theotherbuckley @comfortingevanbuckley @epiphainie @wikiangela @bidisasterevankinard

@sunnywithachanceofbi @desert--moonchild @blitzynatural @actuallyitsellie @big-urchin-energy @fyrehose @buckleyskinards @owlgirl495 @honeyloulou @setmeatopthepyre @salty-autistic-writer @thecarrott

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Touya Todoroki: Sexy Uber Driver!? | Touya x Reader AU Imagine 🌶

Absolutely no fuckin' clue where this one came from guys!! But it's hot, sexy and involves fucking a stranger! AU where there's no quirks and Touya is a tattoo artist who drives Uber as a aside gig. MDNI.

Ok but imagine that Touya is your Uber driver driving you home after a work event.

It's been a longass day, followed by a longass happy hour spent networking with co-workers. You're absolutely exhausted and your feet are killing you so you slip off your dainty high heels and hold them at your side. You sigh in relief when your standard SUV Uber pulls up to the curb. The driver rolls down the window slowly, giving you an appraising look. He takes in your sensible outfit, eyes lingering on the way your bare feet tap anxiously into the harsh cement of the sidewalk.

The driver looks to be about your age - mid-twenties. He's handsome, in an emo-goth sort of way. Dark black hair puffing up in all directions around a pale, aristocratic face. He's got a cute nose, but it's absolutely covered in piercings. So are his ears - silver cuffs climbing up his lobes and under his hair. He's wearing a black t-shirt that shows off the way his bicep flexes as he slings an arm across the steering wheel.

"Y/N?" He asks, glancing between you and your Uber profile on his phone.

"Yup, that's me." You say somewhat awkwardly, leaning around the car so you can triple confirm the license plate number.

"What, you think I'm the boogeyman or something? Do I look like someone who goes around kidnapping people for a living?" He smirks.

You peer down to look at the driver skeptically. He's cute. Thin as a rail in his tattered, well loved hoodie and jeans. His piercings sparkle beneath the streetlights, and he's got these light, bruised-looking circles under his eyes that indicate sleep loss. He's pretty in a grungy skater kind of way. He looks like he smokes cigarettes after sex. You raise an eyebrow.

"Actually, yeah. With those piercings and that vintage My Chemical Romance hoodie, you look like you'd kidnap my ass and lock me up in Hot Topic." You quirk your mouth into a grin, teasing. Flirting? Maybe. "I wouldn't advise kidnapping, though. My friends are all far too poor to pay any sort of emotastic ransom."

He wasn't expecting this quip, his eyes widening in surprise as he meets your dig with silence. Finally, he bursts out laughing, throwing his head back and smiling in a way that makes him look so, so pretty. You shake your head to clear it of your horny little thoughts. Your tired and you need to get home - stop flirting with the Uber driver! You just want to tuck yourself into bed with a warm cup of tea. Maybe jerk off until you fall asleep.

You slouch into the backseat of the car and toss your work bag to the floor along with your shoes. You shut the door soundly behind you and the driver pulls away from the curb and onto the road. As you dig through your bag for your emergency pair of socks, you're happy to note that it's nice and cozy inside the car. When you finally grasp the thick white socks at the bottom of the bag you sigh in relief. You pull them on, haphazardly menuvering yourself around the backseat.

"I'm gonna need you to buckle up back there." The driver says lazily. "I don't have time for insurance hazards."

"Oh, right." You say flatly, reaching to grab your buckle and slide it into place. The buckle makes a loud "click!" as it finds it's home and the driver hums out a satisfied noise.

"You'd be surprised on how many people fight me on that." He says amiably.

"Fight you? About buckling their seatbelt?" You say in surprise. "That's a weird hill to die on."

You see the driver's shoulders rise and fall in an exasperated little shrug. "It's simple - people don't like being told what to do. Especially not by their driver. Everyone in this area seems to think an Uber driver should be seen and not heard."

"Oh. That kinda sucks."

"Eh, it's a means to an end." He says with another small shrug.

It’s a long drive home - a full hour in the car. You pop in your air pods but the driver is chatty. You scowl at first, longing to decompress and sink into your favorite playlist. No such luck - the driver is roasting your work outfit.

“Pencil skirts are stupid, you’re too good looking for something so uptight.” You bite back a with a witty reply, and before you know it the flirty banter has turned to a heart to heart with your emo ass ride share driver.

It only takes few minutes for you to realize how fucking hot he is - he glances back at you through the rearview mirror with ice blue eyes and you’re practically in love. The time flies - you talk about your job, the horrific dating scene in the city, the way you dream about doing something crafty on the weekends but always end up sinking into your chores instead. He talks about the tattoo parlor that he shares with his friends Spinner and Tomura, the pranks they pull on each other during the slow days. He tells you in detail about his dreams of selling more prints of his art, how he really wants to make something of himself as an artist but he's too afraid to branch out beyond ink. You ask about his fares and what he uses the extra driving money for. He hates driving drunk people, but he also likes taking care of people - making sure they've gotten home safe. He likes knowing that in driving them, he's keeping one less drunk driver off the road. As for the extra money, well...he tells you about the expensive oil paints he's saving up to buy, and the canvases he wants to hand stretch in his garage.

When he pulls up to your apartment complex you find you don’t really want to leave. He puts the car in neutral and you continue to chat. He turns in his seat to look at you and you blush under his intense gaze. Eventually, the conversation trails off and the tension in the air is almost unbearable. You stare at him, want thick on your tongue like honey. His eyes glint as they dip down to glance at your lips, and you know he wants you just as badly. It's been what, an hour since you met? Maybe two? You don't even know this guy. He could be married! You glance at his left hand...no ring. He seems like a good enough guy, right? You're still looking at his hands. They're so goddamn hot. You picture what his hands would look like gripping your hips, slapping your ass, wrapping around your throat to provide the tiniest bit of pressure...

"You're staring." He says in that low voice of his. You love the way he talks - his words come out almost lazy but his tone is deep, teasing. Your eyes flicker up in surprise.

"I am." You say evenly, meeting his gaze. "I was thinking that maybe we should..." Your tone is honeyed, sultry. You let your eyes drop down to his lips and linger there. When your eyes travel back up to meet his own, his eyebrows raise in a silent question. Do you want what I want? And are you willing to take it?

10 minutes later he has you bent over in the back seat of his car, rolling his hips rhythmically as he fucks you better than you’ve been fucked in years.

Your sensible blouse is half unbuttoned and in disarray, and your pencil skirt is hiked up around your waist. The driver had a spare condom in the glove compartment of his car (you hope it hasn't been there too long and that it isn't expired!?), and man is he putting it to good use. At some point you pulled off your driver's faded MCR hoodie and t-shirt, and now his toned stomach and chest glint in the soft glow radiating off of the dashboard's radio. He's absolutely covered in tattoos - intricate ink designs that you wish you had more light to see. His jeans are pushed down and pooled around his ankles as he takes you from behind. It's a messy, chaotic, half-dressed fuck and it's exactly what you needed tonight.

"What's your name again?" You gasp out as he pecks hot kisses up the side of your neck. "Tony?"

He pulls back his head so he can look at you fully, scowling at the mistaken name. "It's Touya." He says, fucking up into you hard. His cock is the perfect size and fits you like a glove - it makes you dizzy with desire every time he thrusts that hot fucking dick up into your pussy. "And what should I call you, sweetheart?"

"Y/N." You gasp out as you feel yourself throb around his cock. Your body is absolutely melting into his - it's as if the two of you have been having sex for years. You just kind of fit together like puzzle pieces (Which sounds cliche as all fuck, but you're too cock drunk to think of more eloquent prose to describe the way your bodies push and pull against each other like the tide.).

He thrusts into you again, more softly as he rolls your name around his tongue thoughtfully. "Y/N. Huh, that's kinda pretty." He pulls out unexpectedly and you whine at the loss. You want him back inside of you as soon as possible - in fact, you're desperate for it. "Aw, don't worry beautiful. You can have as much cock as you want tonight. You were my last fare of the evening."

He pulls you back and awkwardly repositions you so that you're lying in the back seat. It's cramped and your head rests at a sort of odd angle pressing into the car door. But it's hot. And you don't give a damn right now about anything except being fucked.

"Let me see these pretty tits." Touya says in a rough voice, bringing deft fingers down to your mangled blouse. He easily flicks the rest of the buttons open and pulls the delicate material away from your chest, and off of your arms, revealing a sensible white padded bra. He stares at your boobs hungrily, like a wolf staring down its prey. He slides a hand gently beneath you and you feel him unhook your bra with practiced skill. He slides the material off of your body, slowly exposing your tits to the cool air.

"Fuck." He breathes as he tosses your bra into the front seat. He bends over and begins to absolutely devour your tits. He takes one in each hand, fondling and squeezing lightly at the soft flesh of your breasts. He lavishes your left boob with kisses, running the underside of his tongue along your nipple in a way that's so tender it makes you gasp.

"I like that sound, sweetheart." He says, looking up at you with those intense blue eyes. He rests his chin on the swell of your breast as he uses his long fingers to pinch at your nipple. "Keep making that sound?" You nod dumbly and he goes back to suckling your nipple. He runs his teeth lightly across the tiny nub before lavishing you even more with that skilled tongue of his. Goddamn it feels so good. With each swirl and pinch, desire shoots straight to your core.

"Touya."

"Mm?" Touya moves to give attention to your right breast, looking up at you as he sucks and licks his way into your heart.

"Touya I'm so fuckin' wet, I'm gonna ruin the seat of your car." You say nervously, squealing as he slides a hand down your body and in between your legs. He finds your clit easily with his fingertips, swirling the pad of his thumb along your sweet spot as he continues to suck on one of your breasts.

He releases your breast from his mouth with a gentle pop!

"That's alright, beautiful. It's easy to clean." He lets his fingers trace the outer folds of your pussy and you shiver at the contact. He takes a moment to grin down at you before pressing a finger inside. You suck in a sharp breath as your body practically pulls him into you. You've never really been into fingering, but the way the pads of Touya's fingers play you delicately like a harp has you rethinking your opinion on the sex act.

"Don't stop." You gasp out as he slides a second digit into your needy cunt. His strokes are gentle but his rhythm is relentless. He seems to know exactly how to move to please you. He places a hot open mouthed kiss on the space between your breasts, staring up at you with sparkling eyes. "You're so fucking hot, I can't even deal." You groan out, hands flying to his thick hair and pulling slightly. He makes an appreciative noise deep in the back of his throat, encouraging you to keep pulling at his thick locks.

"Can I get back to fucking you now, princess?" He all but growls as you smooth a hand down to the nape of his neck and gather a fistful of hair to pull. Damn what is with this man and pet names? You always thought that being called terms of endearment in bed was cheesy and cringe, but when Touya does it...it's hot. You're already hungry for him to call you "sweetheart" or "beautiful" again - it makes this feel real. Like it's something. (You are perfectly aware that this is a weird one off sexy hookup in the back of a rando's car, but the romantic in you is deeply longing for this to be more.)

"Yes, please." You say as you feel his fingers slide away from your pussy. "Hold on - we should use a fresh condom."

"Ah. I think this was my only one."

"No worries, I have an emergency one in my bag." You reach down beneath the seat and grasp for your bag. Your hand snags the handle and you hoist it towards you. You quickly shuffle through your things before finding a tiny floral zippy pouch that you use for emergency pads, tampons, and...got it. You pull out a tiny golden foil square and hold it between your fingers triumphantly. Touya takes it from you and tears open the packaging as you toss your bag back to the ground.

"We love a modern woman." He says, removing the condom from the package and shifting over to roll it down his length in a single, practiced motion.

"A girl's gotta be prepared." You say haughtily, smiling as you admire his dick.

He pulls himself up carefully and places his arms on either side of you, maneuvering the best he can in the backseat of his car. He hovers over you, and the glow of the dashboard makes his features look downright angelic. The soul shatteringly blue eyes, that pale skin and sharp, aristocratic nose of his...it's all far too much and he is far too beautiful.

"You're so gorgeous, Touya." You say in a hoarse whisper. His eyes widen in surprise and his cheeks get the tiniest bit rosy. He wasn't expecting that. He quickly regains his composure and chuckles, looking away from your face and down at your exposed breasts.

"Well I don't know about that, beautiful." He lets his eyes drink in your body, wandering down your chest and across the gentle curve of your hips. He looks like he's trying to commit you to memory. You shift under his gaze, self-couscous at the way you're laying exposed in the back of a stranger's car like some kind of trollop. "I certainly couldn't pull off a pencil skirt - so, I think you're beating me in the gorgeous department."

"I thought you didn't like the pencil skirt." You huff, your indigence melting into a giggle as he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

"It's growing on me. It looks good like this." He gestures with one hand at the way it's gathered around your bare midriff. "Really frames your pussy."

You crack up at that, and Touya shuts you up when he leans down and kisses you deeply. The way he kisses...it's not what you expected. The kiss is soft, measured. He slides his lips against yours with practiced skill. Tt's not aggressive and fiery like you were anticipating - it's sweet and slow. He moves to kiss the side of your face softly. He uses his left arm to prop himself up as he smooths his right up to tuck your hair behind your ear as he kisses the hollow beneath your neck. You let out a soft sigh and he grins into your warm flesh. He's just so unexpectedly sweet. You can feel the weight of his cock against you, twitching every now and then with arousal.

He reaches down between your bodies to grasps at his dick, scooting down a bit to get into a better position. He slowly guides the tip to you, sliding his weighty dick against your slit, gathering up your wetness. You gasp at the contact, the velvety slide of his cock against you fills you with warmth. He pauses for a moment, bringing his cock up a bit so he can rub it against your clit cheekily. At this point it feels like your entire body is flushed and turned on, and you bite back a deep moan at the contact. You're desperate for him to just take you already, and you tell him so in a needy voice.

"No one can hear us in here, you can make as much noise as you want." He says with a chuckle, slipping and sliding his cockhead to your entrance. "Let's see if this is moan worthy." He shoots you a wicked grin as he pushes inside you and you gasp out as his blunt tip slides into your wet cunt. The feeling is other-wordly, it makes you feel as if you've never been fucked properly before.

"Touya." Is all you can manage to say as he reaches down to prop up your left leg on the seat for a better angle. He wraps an arm around your knee and flexes his hips to go deeper. You feel each glorious inch of him slide into place, the light stretch of your pussy walls is absolutely, sinfully delicious.

This time, he takes things slowly. Each thrust is measured and sweet. He looks down at you with an open, adoring expression that makes you flush. You've only been looked at like that a handful of times during sex, and the intimacy of it always takes you by surprise. You've met his man maybe two hours ago? And this stranger is fucking worshiping your body. He's making goddamn love to you.

"Y/N." He groans as he thrusts into you deep, his hips stuttering a bit with the pleasure of it all. He closes his eyes and savors the feel of you around him - soft and hot. When you flex your pelvic muscles around him he laughs a bit - gravely but sweet. You can't quite describe it, but he's got this sexy deep voice that makes your body feel electric when he says your name. "This was not how I was expecting to end my night shift."

Each slide of his thick cock inside of you has you seeing stars and your eyes practically roll back in your skull whenever he hits that sweet spot deep inside of you. His own eyes flutter back open so that he can watch your face reverently. He's trying to read your expressions and adjust his motions to best match your pleasure. He holds your propped knee against his slim body before sliding his hand up to play with your tits. Holy shit, this guy is trying to kill you with pleasure.

You look up at him with lazy eyes, wanting to commit this image to memory. He's too tall for the car, so he's hunched in a bit of an awkward crouch over you as he fucks. His stomach and chest are covered in winding black ink tattoos and his muscles a bit toned - he looks like he takes fairly good care of himself. His body nips in at the waist in a way that's downright unholy. You realize that the thick mop of hair on top of his head must be dyed black, because the rest of the hair running down his body is a soft white. For a moment you try to picture what he must look like with a head of white locks and the image in your head is just as lovely. You imagine he looks good no matter how he styles himself. He's a goddamn dream - beautiful in an ethereal way your sex-crazed brain can't quite describe. You almost forget to breathe.

A deep thrust into you brings your mind spinning back to focus on the sex. You feel your pussy flutter around Touya's perfect, hard dick and you realize you're closer to orgasm than you thought. You reach up to grab Touya's slight waist and encourage him to pick up his pace.

"Is my girl gonna finish on my cock?" He asks cheekily, grinning down at you.

My girl. The word shoots around your brain like pinball, lighting up all of your synapsis in a way that makes you so. incredibly. horny.

Oh god, you're gonna cum. You tell him, your voice breathy and warbling as you desperately clutch at his waist, trying to get as much of him inside of you as possible.

He laughs, but not unkindly. He's just as thrilled to be doing this with you, to be bringing you to the brink of pleasure. He doubles down on his pace, leaning forward to get a better angle. He fucks into you hard and rhymically and the tip of his cock hits your sweet spot again and again and again until...

"Fuck, Touya, I'm - "

"Yeah? Give it to me, sweetheart."

You cum hard, your body electric and buzzing as your pussy flares and flutters around that hot cock of his. You let out a cry of pleasure and Touya looks down at you with brilliant, wild blue eyes as he helps you ride out your high.

"Good girl." He says as he feels you finish, your hand dropping from his hips as the orgasm fades and exhaustion hits you. He slows down his pace a bit, drawing out his own pleasure. You feel yourself start to get overly sensitive as the orgasm fades and you come back to yourself.

"Touyaaa." You moan, indicating that it's becoming too much.

"Just a little longer, sweet girl. I'm almost there." You prop up your other leg, bending it towards you to give him better access to your pussy. You want to make him feel so good - as good as he just made you feel. You try to ignore the overstimulation.

"Oh, fuck." He says as he's able to somehow get even deeper. You can feel every twitch and shudder of Touya's cock as his thrusts become more shallow, more desperate. He looks down at you in awe, his mouth slack and his breathing uneven as he chases his high.

"I'm...Y/N, I'm..."

He quickly pulls out of you and wraps his hand around his cock, desperately stroking himself through his orgasm. He cums a moment later, thick white ropes splattering across the soft skin of your tummy. He paints you white with his seed, gasping your name under his breath as he brings himself to completion.

When he's done, he looks up at you with those bright blue eyes.

"Woah."

"Yeah."

You stare down at yourself - naked except for the pencil skirt that's still bunched up around your middle. You look so slutty like this - covered in a stranger's thick, pearly cum in the backseat of a ride share car. Touya is still hunched over you, hands resting on your knees as he stares down at the mess he's made. His cock is softening but he doesn't make a move to pull up his boxers to cover himself. He just stays where he is, staring dow at you like he's the luckiest fucking guy on the planet. And, you suppose, he is. It's not everyday that a driver gets to fuck his fare.

"Nice work, Jackson Pollock." You say, looking up at him mischievously and gesturing to the mess on your stomach. "I know you said you were an artist...but I didn't think you meant splatter paint."

He stares down at you for a moment, dumbstruck. His jaw has dropped and he looks so, so pretty and so, so stupid all at the same time. Then he shuts his mouth and starts to laugh. You both cackle together in the afterglow. It's all just so ridiculous - fucking a stranger in a rideshare vehicle, making jokes about art and cum. It's extra funny, too, because you realize there's no place you'd rather be right now.

You stay like that for a few minutes - laughing and swapping cum jokes. Once you've caught your breath, Touya shifts so that he can reach beneath the passengers seat and pull out a thin roll of paper towels. He tears off a few sheets and offers them to you. You gratefully accept, using the thin paper to wipe his cum off of your stomach.

"You fuck in here often?" You ask curiously, eyeing the paper towels as Touya begins to clean himself up as well.

"Heh, no. This is actually my first time having sex in a car if you can believe it." He laughs, tucking the rest of the towel roll back under the passenger seat. "That's more for when drunk people fuck up my upholstery."

"Ah. Yes. I could see that being a common problem for a driver who works at night." You say, hoping that the car seat beneath your bare ass hasn't been vomited on recently.

"Yeah. It's only happened twice, but that was two times to many."

"So are you out driving every night?" You ask as you try to unbunch your skirt.

"Only on the weekends when I have time." He says, finally reaching down to pull up his boxers. "When the shop gets slower in the wintertime I tend to drive more during the week for the extra cash. It's not a horrible side gig, all things considered. People are pretty decent." He looks at you thoughtfully. "You're the nicest fare I've had so far though, no one else has let me fuck them raw after the ride ends." You laugh at that. Yeah, what a weird fuckin' night it's been.

"Well you're the first ride share driver I've fucked. So it's a night of firsts all around."

He grins at you before beginning the search for his shirt and hoodie. He finds it in the front seat beneath your bra. He gathers the garments and tosses you your underthings.

"So - this your apartment?" He asks, nodding his head towards the building as he pulls his shirt down over his toned, tatted chest.

"Yeah. Um, do you want to come in for a cup of tea?" You offer uncertainly. What's the protocol here, anyway? Does he want to leave? You're out of your depth when it comes to random vehicular hookups.

He layers on his MCR hoodie, pulling it down over his t-shirt and adjusting it to lay comfortably on top of his waistline. When he emerges from the hood, his hair is unkempt and spikey but his face has lit up.

"Yeah, actually I'd love that. You wouldn't mind?"

"No, not at all. It's the least I can do for...uh...dripping all over your upholstery?" You give him an apologetic look as you shift off of the small wet spot on his car seat.

"Don't worry, I can wipe it down in the morning and no one will be any the wiser."

"Thank god. I'd be mortified if I'd fucked up your workplace."

"I appreciate that. But really, you're good." He reaches down and grabs your blouse, offering it up to you. You hastily shrug it on, buttoning it back into place. You lean down and scoop up your work bag and shoes. The happy hour feels like a lifetime ago.

A few minutes later, Touya is locking his car and following you up the stairs to your tiny apartment. The two of you laugh as you struggle with your apartment key with shaky hands. He leans over you in the door frame, offering to help, and you grin up at this stupidly hot guy you've somehow managed to fuck in your driveway. Once you manage to unlock the door, you grab his hand and pull him inside to your well decorated space.

"Wow, someone's got colorful taste." He lets out a low whistle as he takes in the many patterned art prints on your gallery wall, the bright checked plush blankets draped over your couch. You love bright things as well as florals, checks, patterns of all kinds. Your apartment is small, but cozy with all the creature comforts a twenty-something just outside the city could hope to have. There's a yellow Ikea tupperware of fresh pumpkin muffins on the counter and you tell him to help himself as you walk over to your kettle to brew some tea.

"Don't mind if I do." He says eagerly, taking off his Vans and dashing over to the countertop so he can unbox the muffins. You grab two large yellow camp mugs from your cupboard and set them down gently with a clink.

"What kind of tea do you like?" You list out your Trader Joe tea options and he settles on peppermint, while you decide to take camomile. He slouches into one of your kitchen chairs, watching as you open the tea bags and fill the kettle to the brim. You turn on the stove and watch as the blue flame of the burner ignites.

"Oh my God, Y/N. These are heaven." You turn to see Touya enjoying a muffin, biting into it joyously. "Did you bake these?"

"Yeah, I'm kind of a stress baker." You laugh, placing the tea bags into the mugs. "When I get stressed about work I take it out on the oven."

"I'd say you should just start taking it out by fucking me, but these muffins are way too good. I'd almost rather you use your stress to churn out stuff like this." He grins before stuffing the rest of the muffin into his mouth. He chews and swallows before saying, "Sorry - I forgot to eat dinner tonight and starving."

You smile at him warmly and reach into a cupboard for a small plate. You go back to the tupperware and scoop out a few muffins before bringing setting the full plate down in front of Touya. "Have as many as you want, I've made way too many for just me."

He looks up at you gratefully, a little starry eyed. "Thanks, sweetheart."

Oh.

So the pet names aren't just a sex thing!? You turn around to hide the blush that springs to your cheeks. It's funny - this guy just saw you butt naked and now you're trying to hide a little blush from him? Get it together, Y/N!

Touya digs into the feast of baked goods you've set before him and after a few moments, the kettle starts to sing. You shut off the stove and pour hot water into the mugs. Touya gratefully accepts the hot cup of peppermint tea, smiling up at you with crumbs on his face. You feel oh so domestic as you grab a napkin to wipe at the corners of his smile, and he pulls you into his lap to lavish you with a messy, crumbly kiss. You both laugh and it feels so soft and intimate and warm. The kitchen feels so cozy. And your heart feels all glowy and light in a way you haven't felt in a long, long time.

Thw two of you sip on your tea and nibble and chat. You talk about your jobs and your lives and he tells you stories about his tattoo apprenticeship and about his crazy big family. You cackle at his jokes and share tales of your wild friend group and their latest shenanigans. Before you know it, hours have gone by and you feel like you've known this guy for literal years.

When the tea is gone and the conversation has lapsed into comfortable silence, he gets to his feet and pulls you into another one of his soft, methodical kisses. You melt into him and ask him to please stay. Stay for the rest of the night, stay for however long he wants.

And he does.

You fuck him twice more in your bed before the sun rises. Turns out, he's a goddman dream with his tongue, and he spends an unholy amount of time between your legs, licking and sucking and pulling sounds out of you that you didn't know you could make. For round two you ride him, bouncing up and down on that gorgeous cock of his and making him see stars. He looks up at you with eyes full of fondness, and it feels like more than just a one night stand, right? He calls you sweetheart, gorgeous, baby...Within minutes you cum again hard, and so does he.

When you wake up a few hours later, the sun peaks through your velvet curtains and plays warmly against your skin. You realize warmly that you're wrapped up in Touya's muscular, ink covered arms. If you thought he looked good in the night, well...Daylight looks just as gorgeous on him. The light plays with his sharp features, illuminating his pale skin divinely. If you look closely enough, you can see the tiny flecks of white along his hairline where his roots are growing in. His thick eyelashes are fairly translucent, too. How did you not notice that last night?

He breathes deeply, his chest rising and falling methodically and lulling you back into a comfortable sleep.

He's still here. He stayed.

You hope that maybe he'll stay forever? Is that a silly thing to wish for?

You wake up an hour later to your phone buzzing on your night stand. You untangle yourself from Touya's arms and he mumbles a protest in his sleep. You scoot out from under him and reach for the phone, clicking it open to see an Uber alert.

You click open the app and scan through the message.

Your ride with Touya has ended. Do you want to tip your Uber Driver?

You smirk down at the text.

You tip him 30% and then climb back into Touya's embrace, letting yourself fall back into a warm, comfy sleep.

End.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note

Hey!! It's me, hi, I'm the author it's me! I took a break for a few weeks to attend to some crazy events, travel and illness. But I'm back making my grand return! I hope you liked this little Touya AU. I was taking an hour long Uber ride back from work and thinking - what if the Uber driver was hot!? What if someone hooked up with their Driver and they fell in love!? Idk this def isn't written based on any personal experiences but I thought the concept could be kind of wild and I would absolutely fall head over heels if I had a simp Touya Todoroki as my driver.

I hope people like the portrayal of Touya here...usually I write him as more of a shit eating asshole. But I think that if he didn't have a quirk and grew up a little more well adjusted he'd be oozing confidence and lavishing his lovers with praise and attention. I think that this AU Touya has worked through his shit, is not in contact with his dad but is close with the rest of his family, is figuring things out on his own work wise and is fiercely independent. I also think that since he's worked through his trauma and anger in therapy he is super great at being open and vulnerable during intimacy. He's at that point in his healing journey.

Do I think that Reader and Touya work out? Yeah I do. I think they go on to date and compliment each other really well. The reader is a Corporate Girly™ and Touya is an artist and they balance each other well creatively, emotionally and physically. Obviously there would be things to figure out but I think these two could really grow together and support each other. So there you go - a dirty one night stand hookup story with a happy ending!!

Anyway, hope you enjoyed! More stories coming very soon :)

XOXO,

Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

P.S. Here's the 🔥Link to My Master List 🔥! I've published a lot of fun sexy Touya/Dabi stories lately and would love for you to take a look if you're interested! 😏

[leyavo]

| I am my father's daughter |

💖 Dad!Price x Daughter!reader

PART TWO: Agreeing to let Toff check you over, you make the decision of whether not you want to stay with your dad or just take off, which would be so much easier.

TW: Hurt/angst/mentions of abuse/comfort/ some TF141 too. [Part one] [Series masterlist] 3026words

Toff lived up to her nickname, no letters dropped at the end of her words like the team your dad had around him. No she was posh, well spoken and had the accent of someone that came from old money.

The gold designer watch on her wrist and the rock of an engagement ring, also telling enough. Her fingers prodded the yellowing bruise on your rib cage, the rock dazzling under the light, blinding you each time she moved.

She doesn't fit in, too put together compared to the likes of your father. He's still wearing some sort of hat, whether its the ridiculous army bucket hat or a snug knitted fisherman one, if he's not it's stuffed in his back pocket. You're convinced he's still got the same Levi jeans, a few added scrapes and as he says, they wear well. There's an array of plaid and flannel shirts in varying colours hanging in his wardrobe, like another uniform he wears on his downtime instead of his camo gear.

Your dad had slipped that she went to some prestigious medical school before working in the military. Not that it mattered it to you, you'd see a vet if it meant they wouldn't talk to your dad.

Thankfully she made your dad wait in the hall, her office door shut as she assessed you. If you got this over with, you could leave and not have to speak of it ever again. You could just imagine him pacing the hallway, halting to greet the soldiers calling him captain and then resuming his pacing.

Being the Captain’s daughter also meant you had a shared family health plan with him. One you’d never heard of before. He did use to remind you to go for dental and medical check ups, but moving around when you were younger made it difficult. Your mother reluctant to fill out forms to sign you up to a new doctor’s surgery because she wasn’t sure if the new home was long term. Shocker, they never were.

"You won't, uh tell my dad?" You asked as you rolled the layers of clothing back down.

Toff tipped your chin up with her finger, "all patient records are confidential, even if your dad's Captain Price." She pushed her chair back wheeling it to the desk and picking up a pair of tweezers, sliding back to you.

She peered over her thick framed glasses at you, turning your face side to side inspecting the gash above your brow. The metal of the tweezer cool against your skin, she prodded the tape drawing back with a nod of satisfaction.

"Soap patched you up well," Toff said handing you a plastic cup of water and some painkillers.

"Sorry, what," you blurted out, choking on the water.

Humming Toff nodded, "he's good with light touch, probably why your dad got him to fix you up whilst you were out cold." She managed to get hold of some of your medical records, which she requested last night. No doubt your dad had called as soon as you fell asleep in the car and asked her for a favour.

You muttered a string of curse words under your breath, did the whole bloody army base know what happened last night? Toff was too busy reading your record, brows scrunching as she double clicked the mouse.

"You broke your wrist six years ago, but never had surgery," she said, turning the computer screen for you to see the x-ray. "The follow up on here, shows your bone moved during it was in a cast, but your guardian refused surgery." Her pen circling the area of the screen for you.

"We were moving and it felt fine," you shrugged, looking down at your wrist. You wondered if your dad knew about that one.

"Does it bother you now?" Toff said, returning to you and picking up your right wrist, pushing your sleeve up. "Huh, there's a lump there, does that hurt? Any regular pain? Does it restrict you from doing certain things, this is your dominant hand?" Her hazel eyes snapped up to yours as you snatched your wrist back and shoved the sleeve back down.

All of her questions spun around in your head, you hadn't even thought about the pain when there was other things to worry about.

Toff stood from her chair, palms raised as if you were going to bolt out of the room, you wanted to.

"Sorry, didn't mean to pry. Is that all you need me to take a look at?"

"Yes, thanks,” you snapped, flinging your hoody back on and zipping it up.

You're ready to bid your dad goodbye and never look back, but as you swung the door open you crashed into the back of someone else.

Soap's light touch kept you upright, you're trying not to think of him patching you up whilst you slept. The thought alone making you feel pathetic, small in his presence. Like you can't even look after yourself.

“Captain got called in,” Soap said, as if that’s supposed to mean anything to you. You’re used to him coming and going, more focused on his job than you.

More interested in his team, how he so easily referred to Soap as son. You haven’t even been there for a day and he’s found another family, leaving you to feel like a spare part. You want to hate Soap, but you don’t know him. Don’t know your dad the way they do.

The walls began to press in and you took off down the narrow corridor, your sight on the world outside. You needed fresh air, needed to catch your breath and not fall apart in front of Soap.

"Hey, woah," Soap called after you, his boots stomping as he tried to catch up. "dammit slow down would ya, like a fuckin’ greyhound."

You forced the door open with a bit too much force and they slammed against the stairs railing as you rushed down the steps.

"I am not a dog!" You spun around, jabbing his chest with your finger. The cool air swept your hair across your face, drawing a deep breath from you. You watched Soap's chest rise and fall as if he was coaching your breathing.

He tucked the curtain of hair shielding your eyes behind your ear, "feel better now?"

“I’d feel a whole lot better if you signed me out right now.” You raised your brow, wincing at the tape pulling it tight.

Soap shook his head, falling into step beside you. He waved, signalling for the guard to let you both through the gate back into the residential area “Your dad’s a good man, why don’t you give him a chance?”

“Because I’m not a soldier, he had his chance six years ago.” The three years he didn’t reach out, didn’t bother checking in on you. Only to find out he had another kid, another family.

You didn’t miss the tic of his jaw or the gulp he took. All the little signs you looked for when you said the wrong thing, you were good at noticing the change in people. Knew how even the nicest ones could change like a flick of a switch.

Soap leant down, face close to yours that you could feel his hot breath fanning the curve of your nose. “Look, if you’re only here to piss off your dad, I’ll sign you out right now. Hell I’ll even take the blame for you leaving, just don’t go asking him about six years ago.”

“Got it,” you said, voice low but good enough for him to hear. The tension in your body kept you in place, breath trembling as he backed off and started walking ahead.

You trailed after him, keeping your distance incase he turned around again. The beating of your heart drummed against your chest, palms sweating as you balled them up inside your pockets.

Why were you so pathetic when confronted? You could just hear your dad’s voice in the back of your head telling you to knee him in the groin. Take up some space so they can’t take all of yours.

Space, exactly what you needed after being stuck in house with a team of men. You slipped through the front door, not glancing at Soap as you rushed to the safety of your dad’s room.

Shutting the door, you pressed your back against the wood panel. The lock sliding into place, your body slumping to the floor and arms wrapping around your legs as you brought them into your chest.

Your small area of safety calming you. After a moment of silence, you picked yourself up and climbed under the duvet. The memory foam mattress too hard on your back that you flipped over on your stomach, closing your eyes.

-

The constant buzzing of your phone drew you out of your sleep, your eyes heavy as you squinted at the window. You don't know why your dad opened the blinds, the sun making it harder for you to focus. His half of the bed smooth and tucked underneath the mattress, not a crease in sight till you tugged the duvet.

Numb tingles danced across your upper back, you groaned into your pillow and attempted to roll your shoulder. Searing pain stopping you before you could rise from the bed.

Eying the alarm clock, you stumbled out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom. You're glad the others are training this afternoon and you can sort this out yourself. It can't be that bad.

You pulled your hoody over your head, wincing at the pull of your arm stretching the skin across your shoulder blade.

Peering over your shoulder, you looked at your reflection in the mirror and your fingers pressing into the red skin. A weeping wound oozed yellow pus just right of your back below your neck. You'd forgotten about the graze, too distracted by Toff questioning your broken wrist.

You added a little more pressure and clutched the edge of the sink, black dots lining your vision. You heard the thud before you felt your body fall to the floor.

Sweat ran down your forehead, the cool tiles beneath you a welcome addition against the heat of your skin. Since when were you so hot? your breaths quickened as you tried to focus on your phone across the bathroom. Your hand aching to reach for it.

Maybe if you just rested for a little.

John couldn't wait to sit outside and have a cigar. The day had knocked him, your call in the early hours of the morning throwing him off track and his duties as a captain, a father. He hated how he got called away whilst he waited for Toff to check you over, hoping to catch you before you went on another stroll around the base to get away from his questioning.

He pulled his boots off and added them to the shoes lined up by the door, the living room and kitchen were clear. The mumbled tones of his teammates drew his attention to the hallway. He dragged a hand down his face, hoping he wouldn't have to readjust yet another bathroom schedule.

John joined the guys huddled by the closed bathroom door, looking around Soap for a clue of what the hell they were doing. "I mean we could shimmy the door open, pop it out of the frame with a bit of force," Ghost said, his calloused hand tracing the wood.

They’re all covered in sweat from their training session. Thinking they’d revert back to their bathroom schedules like normal, but they’re locked out. Only the new recruits use the communal showers.

"I don't think kickin’ the door in, is gonna make the lass feel safe." Soap said, arm shooting across the guys before they could move. The warped door's been wreaking havoc since they were assigned the house, but they haven't been bothered about taking it off and shaving it down or replacing the temperamental lock. That or wait on the long list of maintenance services.

“What the hell are you boneheads going on about?” John grumbled, their heads snapping towards him as they finally realised he was there. He glanced to the lock picking device in Ghost’s hand and the dagger wedged into the crack of the door.

“The doors locked, she was talking a second ago…” Gaz winced as the captain’s fist banged against the door shaking the whole wall.

John held his hand over his shoulder silencing them all behind him, his head titling as he tried to listen for any movement. Another knock on the door, "hey kiddo, you alright in there? If you can hear me give me something, anything."

A light tap bounced back, the tension in the captains shoulders easing at the sound.

"Can't kick the door in, there ain’t enough room in there for it to fall. Could hurt her," Gaz said, he yanked the dagger out of the door and shoved it back into Soap's hand.

"Could take the window out and go in that way." Ghost added, as if they were planning to scale a building and ambush a rogue team.

Their mumbled voices merged together in the cramped hallway.

"Window it is."

Gaz volunteered to climb through the second floor window and break the lock from the inside. John holding his breath as he waited on the other side, his chest stung at the sight of you in Gaz's arms. The ringing in his ear and the hands pushing him forwards kept him in tow behind Gaz. You were so pale, words slurred and hand dropping over his arm like a dead weight.

John was no stranger to the infirmary, he'd been sat either at someone's bedside or the unconscious one receiving aid. What he wasn't used to though, was his daughter strung up with an IV and sleeping off the medication Toff had given her.

Nurses flitted back and forth from the bed, herding John to the side as they assessed you. Gaz and Soap had gone back to the house to sleep, Ghost fixed the door and the lock and stopped by to give the captain a strong flask of coffee leaving straight after.

The constant questions, ones he didn't know since he'd never been asked before. How could he not know if you were allergic to anything or if there were any underlying health issues? It hadn't even been two days since you'd come back into his life and he didn't know you at all.

Hours had passed since Gaz had carried you through the house and to the infirmary. Your skin pale and clammy, hair sticking to your forehead. He'd never seen you like that, lost for words as he trailed after them.

The marks of another man's grasp circled your bicep, green bruise fading, but visible as you laid in the bed. John thought the split lip and gashes on your head and brow were bad, the wound on your back much worse. Couldn't understand how you carried the pain so well, as if you'd mastered putting up with it. That scared him.

He nodded to the nurse as she finished her shift, the clipboard at the end of your bed falling to the floor. He picked it up flicking through the pages and shuffling them back into the file. His hands hesitating as he read your name, Marston not Price. Was he that detached from your life that you'd dropped his last name? He'd even put his surname for you when he'd signed you into the base and you hadn't said anything when you looked at the visitor pass.

A hand smoothed across his back, chair scraping along the floor beside him. “Lucky girl, Cap. Mild case of sepsis, good that you caught on to it early and brought her in," Toff said, she leant her elbows on her knees and ducked her head to catch John's gaze.

He couldn't glance at her though, his gaze on his hand on top of yours. "You were supposed to check her over," he snarled, more angry at himself for not paying enough attention than at Toff.

"She didn't show me the wound on her back, just some bruising and the marks on her face that were visible. If I'd have known John..." Her words cut off by John's hand patting her knee.

"How she looking?"

"You caught it in the early stages, could be a few days or a week or more. She'll need to be monitored here and make sure the infection has gone. A wound like that though with the placement, would have made it difficult for her to tend to herself." Toff flicked through the medical chart, eyes flitting to the heart monitor as she walked around the bed.

John didn't want to think about you alone, isolated from people that could help and care for you. How you lacked a family and friends to lean on during those times. His mind consumed with finding whoever did this to you. Ghost had already asked him if he wanted him to look into it.

Toff hooked up another bag of IV, silently bidding him goodbye and returning to her office over the other side of the infirmary. Door ajar incase she was needed.

A twitch of your finger tapped against John's, followed by the hurried beat of the heart monitor. You whimpered in to the pillow, rapid movement fluttering under your eyelids.

“You’re okay, kid. Just relax, your old man’s right here,” he said, adjusting your pillow and smoothing your hair out of the way.

“Captain,” you slurred, lazy smile tugging your lips. You struggled to keep your eyes open, but you clutched his pointer finger like you used to as a kid.

You’d called him Captain as a kid, your mother’s doing as she used to tell you stories about daddy becoming one, one day. Playing soldiers whenever he came home and he’d always let you be the captain, your little voice commanding him to play.

"I've got you kid, you're safe."

- thank you for all your lovely comments on the first part!! :) more parts to come soon! Hope you liked it - Leya

[iamgonnagetyouback]

bartender!theodore nott headcannons ⭑.ᐟ

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ bartender!theodore who makes the best cocktails but hates small talk, barely sparing a glance at customers who try to chat him up—until it’s you, leaning over the bar with that wicked little smile, eyes shining under neon lights. he sighs, pretends you’re a nuisance, but his hands are already reaching for your usual without a word

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ bartender!theodore who never lets you pay, no matter how many times you try. you slide a bill across the bar just to be difficult, and he slides it right back with a lazy smirk. “cute,” you hum, tucking it into his shirt pocket instead

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ bartender!theodore who pretends he’s annoyed when you steal cherries from his garnish tray, but his eyes drop to your lips when you wrap them around the stem, twisting it into a knot with a smirk. his jaw clenches, his grip tightens on the cocktail shaker. you grin. you win

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ bartender!theodore who doesn’t do small talk but always listens when you talk, filing away little details like they matter. you offhandedly mention your favorite song, and the next time you’re at the bar, it’s playing. you raise a brow, smirking, and he just shrugs. “coincidence.”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ bartender!theodore who pretends he doesn’t notice when you’ve had one drink too many, but the second you start swaying, there’s a glass of water in front of you. you groan but drink it anyway, and he huffs, shaking his head. “good girl.”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ bartender!theodore who glares at guys who get too close, who leans against the bar with his sleeves rolled up, forearms flexing, jaw tight, like he’s daring them to try something

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ bartender!theodore who walks you to the door at the end of the night, hands in his pockets, head tilted toward the ground. you’re tipsy, a little reckless, but you catch the way his eyes linger, the way his breath hitches when you lean in just a little too close. you grin. “goodnight, theo.” he exhales slowly, low and deep. “yeah. goodnight, trouble.”

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.