#let this be a warning fatass

[tldrenee]

Blocking me after I told chu I was gon dox u is sum pussy ass shit 😂 esp when u talk all tat racist shit, u can’t handle a lil dox, grow a pair white boy 😂

[whore-ibly-hot]

"1-800-HANDY-YAN"

Yandere!Handymen (Tucker and Billy) x Fem!Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Oral sex, yandere behavior, Dub-con, perverted thoughts, misogynistic comments (mostly tucker), class economic divide? Spying, obsession, stalking, double trouble yanderes, mention of female genitalia and breasts on reader

A/N: Yeah, maybe this is eight hundred weeks late, I got super motivated then super not. But trust me, this piece is 👌

Metal tools clink together, the sound of screws and the occasional drip of left over water fills up the space beneath the sink as Tucker works on the clogged drain.

"Wrench." He sticks his hand out of the cabinet and extends his fingers while his mullet-haired friend whose sat just outside. Bill hands him the wrench, sighing as he cranes his head to see around the doorframe and into the living room of this nice suburban home.

"Alright, gimme the bolt." The skinny wife-beater clad handyman asks his broad set and chubby friend. After a few moments, he calls again. "Bill, bolt. Cmon," He groans as he slides out from the sink cabinet and look at his distracted coworker. Smacking him upside the shoulder he shakes his head. "Get your fuckin' head outta the clouds, or I'll have your fatass get stuck up under this sink tugging on the hair and shit in here." He grumbles. "What the hell are you even-" He leans forward against the tile to see forward at what's captured Bill's attention, and then sighs.

"Stop looking at the homeowner if you ain't gonna do anything, Billy. You've got a limp dick crush on her, why won't you do anything about it, huh?" He nudges his friend. "She's always calling us for little home repairs, and she never has anyone over. I mean, her beds always made too." He whistles lowly as he sees you watching the TV in the living room, eyes raking over your tits and ass as he bites his lip back a bit.

"What does her bed have anything to do with whether or not she's got a fella?" Bill asks weakly, and Tucker rolls his eyes.

"Please, no one is ever here, and her bed isn't made. She's not exactly getting rolled around and pounded in it, is she? Shit, I dont even remake my bed after I jerk it."

Bill shushes him and shoots a panicked look back towards you. "She could hear you, just... don't talk about her like that. She's trusting us to be good to her house and to, uh, to her."

"Well-" As Tucker finishes up with the drain and reattaches the pipe, flipping the sink water back on and letting it run for a minute, he pulls out of the counter. "Why don't we let her know the jobs done, yeah?"

Walking into the living room, Bill has always tended to be quiet around you. You'd seen the scruffy men around the suburb you live in before, they appeared to be everything men. They work on plumbing, fix lights and wiring, mow lawns, and they got good reviews from your neighbors. It's obvious they don't really fit in in the neighborhood. The men are scruffy, usually in dirty clothes with unkempt beards and a beaten up old van. They're from the poor end of town, a rather rough trailer park. They are treated as useful workers, but poor company by your wealthy neighbors. Still, they've been nothing but nice to you, sweet even.

"Hey guys, is the sink fixed up?" You ask, perking up from your spot on the couch and casting aside the tv remote.

"Sure thing, jobs all done." Tucker sniffs, rubbing at his chin and putting a hand on his hip. "We figured it was a super quick job, so Bill suggested we give you half off since it didn't take the full hour." He nudges his friend, who seems shocked at his attempt to get you to speak to him.

"Y-yeah." He mumbles out, swallowing harshly. "Didn't want to charge you for anything extra." He explains quietly.

"Thank you guys, that's so sweet, but you dont have to do that." You sigh and out your hand on your hip. "Well, let me go grab the money I owe you." While you get up, Tucker makes himself cozy on the couch, spreading out like hes always lived here.

"So, missy. We've helped you out quite a bit, fixed things here and there, haven't seen a fella around." He says. "Surely you'd have an easier time fixing this stuff with a more permanent solution."

"Knock it off-" Bill spits under his breath, but his friend just smile mischeviously and sinks deeper into the fabric.

"Yeah, I just haven't met a guy I'm interested in." You explain, talking over your shoulder as you get the money from your bag. "Or any guys whove been interested in me."

"That can't be true-" Bill starts, his sudden outburst makes the attention in the room focused on him. "I just mean, you seem like a real nice lady, sweet." He explains, hands fiddling with the edge of his flannel top.

"That's really sweet, thank you, Bill." You tilt your head with a soft smile and he just nods in acknowledgement, blushing a bit. "What about you guys? You two have anyone special?"

Tucker clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "Hell naw, it's a bachelor pad in our trailer. I mean, we bring girls back sometimes, but you know-" he shrugs. "Bill's kinda hopeless with the ladies, and I'm never satisfied." He winks.

Sitting up, he puts his hands on his knees. "You know, you're a real nice gal, I mean, most people won't even look at us while we work, to busy keeping an eye on stuff and making sure we don't steal. So nice in fact, my friend here's got kind of a crush on ya."

Your eyes widen as your head quickly swivels to the now sheet-white Bill, his hands out in front of him as if to show he means no harm. "N-nah, it's not like, not like that!" He exclaims, looking mortified. "Please, Tucker's talking outta his ass, don't listen to him. Really, I have nothing but professional feelings for you." He says. Hes removed his hat from his head and holds it to his chest, both as a nervous movement and a stress fidget.

"He's lying. Everytime we come here to work, I practically bruise his arm trying to get his attention. He just sits and gawks. I'm being a good friend, telling him to man up."

You set aside your wallet as you slowly approach him, every step feels heavy as you walk up to the broad-shouldered gentle giant. "Is that true, Bill?" You ask. "Do you... are you really interested in me?"

He sighs deeply, refusing to meet your gaze. "I do. I'm sorry, I tried to keep things professional, and respect your boundaries." He begins to ramble as you smile a bit. "I mean, I-I support women and their safety, I know you put a Lotta trust in lettin' us into your home. I'm a feminine!"

"Feminist, stupid." Tucker snickers, and you shoot a warning glance at him. He puts his hands up.

"Its alright, Bill. You've been nothing but sweet and respectful to me, and you guys always come when I call." Crossing your arms, you rub just above your elbow. "Its been hard adjusting to the neighbordhood, people are kinda stuck up or unkind, but you're both so real. And sweet, and-"

"Extremely sexy, right?" Tucker coos, slinging a boney arm around your shoulder. Bill seems shocked at his friend sudden physical contact with you, a boundary he's never dared cross. "She's offering you a compliment, Bill. Come on, return it. Tell her all the nice things we've said about her, like how she's got a great rack." His scratch stubble rubs your cheek a bit from where he's stood behind you. "You really do have a great pair."

"I never agreed with what he was saying, I would never, um- talk about a girl like that, my momma would be so upset with me. Tucker was the one sayin' all that dirty stuff about you." Bill explains. "I would just say you looked prettier than a peach' and he'd make it all gross."

"So..." You grin a bit as your eyes slowly trail over his body and up to meet his gaze. He's trying hard to avoid yours. "You don't like the way my tits look?"

A wild, toothy grin flashes across Tucker's face, he knows where this is heading, and his friends reaction is even more amusing.

"No, I- I do. They look, they look great. Round..."

"Round? What the fuck is wrong with you, that's how you describe her girls?" Tucker shakes his head and turns back to you, his mouth close to your ear so he could whisper in. "Tell you what, before Billy-boy says something that dries out your puss, why don't we take this up to your room? I have the advantage of knowing the way." He ever so slightly grind the front of his jeans to your ass, the growing erection obvious. "Cmon baby, we're handymen, let me clean those pipes."

You immediately cackle and lean forward, gripping your stomach. Tucker looks confused and offended as he puts a hand on his hip. "Sorry!" You exclaim, still laughing. "Sorry, that was just such a stupid line, I'm sorry."

"It wasn't stupid, it was sexy." Tucker scoffs. "Really fucking sexy, you know how many panties get dropped at bars because of 'stupid' lines like that. Don't dance around it, if you don't wanna bone just tell me." You perk up at that, seeing a rare moment of insecurity in Tucker's face. Face flushed, he seems embarrassed, actually wounded. Bill moves to stand a little closer to him, trying to put a hand on his shoulder before it's swatted away with a quiet 'fuck you, don't touch me'.

"No, I... I do. I do, you're both attractive and I haven't had anyone in a long time. You've always been good to me, but I-" You sigh. "I dont know if I can be what you want? I'm not exactly a freak in bed, and I've never been with two guys before." You begin.

Excitement reunited, but still softened by that moment of vulnerability, Bill speaks up for once. "You're perfect." He says, steadying himself. "Really, you don't have to be experienced or nothing, I'm a big clutz but trying your best is what matters. And we'd go as slow or as gentle as you wanted. And as for two guys-" He sighs and swallows harshly. "If you just wanna do it with Tuck, I'll wait he-"

"No, no, it's not that at all. I'm getting caught in my head, I want this." You hold out a hand brush over his flannel shirt buttons, fiddling with one. "I want you. Both of you, as appreciation for how hard you've worked." Looking over at Tucker, you smile. "You seem the most eager to get started, why don't you lead? I imagine you know what you're doing."

"Damn right I do, sexy mama." He gropes your waist as he plants a feverish kiss on your neck. "Glad you're finally giving some attention to lil' ol' me. Go upstairs and get all pretty, lay that pretty body out on your bed while me and Bill pack up and grab a couple rubbers from the truck."

You quickly summit the stairs, and make the most of your time by stripping down to a simple pair of underwear, you didn't figure they needed to be impressed with any lingerie, and you could see Tucker getting annoyed and ripping one of your nicer sets when it came to untying ribbons. Sitting on the bed now, you can see them through the window loading up their. They seem to be loudly arguing about something, and you can't help but laugh. Eventually, Bill comes up.

"Sorry, we forgot we had another job on the docket, I didn't wanna cancel but Tuck is being a real hard ass about all-" He stops when he sees you, in nothing but panties, sat on the bed with a slight smile. You're skin all soft and bare, pretty lights outside dimming as it grows closer from evening to night. "Geez, um, you look beautiful." He mumbles, closing the door behind him.

You tuck your knees under your chin and look at him. "Thanks, that's so sweet. So, you guys are gonna stick around, right?"

Snapping out of his, Bill clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, yeah, Tucker's on a call out there rescheduling." He taps his foot nervously.

"Well, get cozy. Cmon, take off your boots and hat, I'm sure you're tired from working." He obeys quickly, eager to please. He stops after removing his hat though, and you furrow your brows. "Its gonna be hard for us to have sex if the rest doesn't come off too, silly." You tease, but his slightly sad demeanor gives you pause. "Whats wrong?"

"I just, I don't really know if you'll like what you see. Most people think of handymen and folk as all muscular, and I've got some muscle, but I'm not really anyone bodybuilder by any means. And I'm not skinny like Tuck, I'm-" His head fully tilts to the floor. "I'm a big guy. I don't want that to bother you."

You immediately shake your head and move to the edge of the bed, holding out a hand. He shyly takes it in his own, and you run a comforting thumb over it. "Nothing is wrong with that, Bill. I think you look plenty handsome, you look soft, and sweet. And everyone has some pudge." You put his hand on your stomach. "See, I've got a bit of a tummy, and sometimes I don't like my legs, but do you think that makes me less attractive?" You ask.

"I don't think anything could make you not look pretty." He admits, moving his hand to your shoulder.

"I'll undress you, how about that?" He offers no resistance, so you slowly undo his flannel shirt, eyes trailing hungrily over his hair chest and slightly pudgy stomach. "Very handsome." You kiss his collarbone and he sighs. He works on getting his jeans and belt off, before sitting beside you on the bed.

"Can I touch ya? I mean, feel up on your chest and stuff?" He asks. When you nod, his large, callous hands come to rest over your breasts, extremely gentle in their movements. "They're gorgeous, really. And I meant what I said, as much as I love the way you look, and how kind you are, I never said no dirty things about you. It was all Tucker, he' a horn-dog."

"Some men are like that, unfortunately. Hes lucky I think it's flattering when it's him." You chuckle, making Billy laughs as well as he continues groping, a little more confident as he tweaks at a pebbled nipple.

"He's always been a jackass, but he's just trying to seem tough. He really likes you." Bill begins to explain. "Tucker isn't nearly as upfront with his feelins' as I am, but I can't tell he likes you. He don't always stick to making dirty jokes about one girl, but you've been all the talks about lately. And he always beats me to the phone for work now, he used to always make me answer, but I know he's hopin' you'll call." He's clearly packing, and the sight of his erection makes your mouth water in anticipation.

"Hey, Tell you what. Tucker might be a bit, and I'm sure he'll want to be inside me the moment he gets through the door-" Bill laughs at that. "So why don't we get you feeling good first so he can have a go." Sliding off the bed, you put a cheek on his knees, hand on his hairy inner thigh as he swallows.

"Geez, you can do that, b-but only if ya wanna. I lost the remote one day, and they had this talk show with all these ladies in-in suits, and they said that blowjobs were demeaning-"

Ignoring his continuous, (if not sweet), ramblings, you tug at his boxers until his thick, leaky cock springs loose. "Shit, nearly took my eye out." You say, trying to lighten the mood. He's thick, a bright red tip and a firm base. His balls are large, but he did admit he was backed up. He's absolutely huge, you have to admit you're worried he's a choking hazard.

"I'm gonna start slow, yeah? Just kiss the tip?" You ask, and the flushed redneck just nods his head, eyes wide as he's looking down at you. You place a soft kiss on the leaking tip, making him suck in a breath as you slowly take it into your mouth to the back of your tongue. What you can't fit in, you work with your hand.

"Shit, am I too big?!" He asks when he hears you making a sloppy gag, but you gently squeeze his thigh to calm him. You just want this poor big man to relax. Humming a bit, the lights vibration seems to soothe him. "Feels, god, your mouth feels really good, missy." His hands grip the pretty floral sheets of the bed which he had admired so many time when working on your house. "You're so pretty, um, with me in your mouth, but also- I mean, you're pretty all the time, ah~"

He can't decide what's actually getting him closer to climax, actually getting his cock sucked, or just seeing you on the floor in front of him, so lovingly tending to him. Each movement is deliberate, and to feel like you care so much to do this, and act which the educated women on the tv said was degrading, means you must really care. He threads a shakey hand in your scalp, but not to tug or push, but rather to gently pet at your scalp. He lets out a groan which ends high pitched, adjacent to a whimper.

"So pretty. You're so pretty, m' lucky. Lucky you wanna... lucky you are making me feel good, s-shit." You can feel his length twitching in your mouth. "I'm gonna finish, I know it's early, sorry, m' sorry, I gotta finish. Pull me out, can I-" he rambling. "Can I finish on your chest, or I can go finish off in the toilet, or-" You just give him one last good suck, and with a swirl of your tongue you can feel a thick, warm substance filling your mouth. "Shit! Why didn't you, I didn't mean to, uhh~ fuck..."

When you pull off, making a shoe of swallowing, you might as well have taken a puritan to a strip club. Bill looks as if it's the most scandalous thing he's ever seen. Petting his limp cock slightly with your palm, you lean your head on his knee. "Was that good for you?" You ask, and he nods.

He's clearly speechless, and can't bring himself to say much about how good he feels. "It was good." He mumbles out. Biting your lip, you sit by him on the bed, hoisting yourself up. Now, it's your turn to feel unsure.

"Are you sure? You don't seem confident about that." You mumble, hand rubbing your arm. "I haven't given one of those in a long, long time. I'm sorry if it wasn't good. Was it cause you couldn't cum on my chest, I-"

"No, no!" He exclaims. "No, it was perfect, I'm just tired. 'Tuckered' out." He jokes, then clears his throat. "That was dumb. But, that was amazing, really, m' just not good at fancy words n' stuff." Taking a deep breath, he rather boldly puts a hand on your cheek. "Can I kiss ya? I mean, least I could do. I wanna show you really how pretty and nice I think you are, and that feels more proper than getting down there and kissing you on your-" He trails off, flushing again. "Unless you'd like that, I'd do it. It's the least I could mmph-!"

You press your lips to his, and as soon as he stops tensing you feel a large, calloused hand cup your cheek, practically palming your head. He's so gentle, as if afraid to break you. When you eventually break for air, he almost chases your lips. "I-"

"What the fuck!" Tucker stands in the doorway, hands on his toolbelt and hat turned back. "I take one call and yer' already all limp dicked? Shit, Billy, horny little fucker."

"Leave him alone, Tucker." You tease, leaning on Bill's shoulder momentarily. "I offered it to him. Don't listen to him, you were great."

Billy just shyly smiles and kisses your head once more as Tucker dumps his toolbelt and wifebeater at the door. "You already got yer dick wet, Billy, so clear the fuck out. I'd let you watch, but you were a slippery snake and slipped her yer fucking snake when I was going first, so git." Tucker orders as he flops unceremoniously onto your bed and crawls up towards you. You blow a kiss to Billy as he smiles and shuts the door, hearing Tucker mumbling some stupid line about 'cleaning your pipes'.

A few minutes later though, he's ashamed. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, it's dirty. Wrong. But as he sits in your bathroom, wiring up a little camera identical to the ones now in your kitchen and closet, he can't help but remember what Tucker had told him, just before he went out to make that phone call.

"She's gonna let us fuck her, she's okay with us seeing everything in person! If anything, a cameras less invasive. Shit, just set em' up, yeah? We know this neighborhoods full of rich assholes, and her locks are shit. Think of it as keeping that hot little piece of suburbanite ass safe."

[fattystoriez]

Cursed Pigs

Content Warning: Incest, Weigh Gain, Homophobia, Misogyny

Mason was about to go on a date with his girlfriend, he sent a snap to his story to show off his body. Mason was a sophomore in college, he loved to workout, he’s the type of man who could easily steal your girlfriend.

Mason was an arrogant asshole who didn’t care who he was mean to, he was as homophobic as it gets, genuinely being disgusted by gay men. If any girl he dated had a gay best friend he’d force her to drop him, and they’d always listen because he was extremely good in bed. He hated fat people the most, found fat women to be disgusting and fat men to be pathetic. He learned all of this from his father of course, who he was on his way to visit for Labor Day weekend. His father was a muscular daddy type, if Mason had been in his 40s they could be twins.

He couldn’t wait to meet his dad for Labor Day, he and his father and they were planning on going camping. Mason had gotten home and called out for his dad. “

“Dad! I’m home!” Mason walked into the living room where the tv was on and his dad was in his cushioned arm chair, but his dad looked different. His dad had become fat, his once muscular body had been covered in blubber. There was a thick musk in the room, and he was just in underwear that had been clearly stained with cum and piss.

“Dad what the fuck happened to you, when did you become a fatass?!” Masons dad said nothing, instead he let out a rank fart. Frrrrrbbbbttt. “Oh god dad that reeks!” Mason didn’t realize what was on the tv, it was playing a weird sound and as Mason looked closer there were fat fags feeding each other with junk food. “Dad what the fuck are you watching?? What’s wrong with you!” As Mason yelled his minds started to feel numb, he started watching the TV and taking his shirt off.

A drip of drool started to fall from Mason mouth as he watched the fat men stiff each other with doughnuts, cake and burgers. He watched as the fat men started getting fatter, he was feeling hungry. “D-dad… what’s happening?” His dad continued to stay silent as he rubs his stinky crotch. Masons body started to soften, all of the hard work he had put into his muscles was being wasted.

The softening of his body continued, a feeling that was foreign to Mason. “You’re started to look good, boy” Masons father finally said something, his voice had gained a southern twang, which made no sense since they were from Jersey. Mason had a hard time getting his words out, he tried really hard to protest, but his cock was starting to stiffen.

“Da- daddy please… what’s happening?” Mason’s belly started to hang over his waistband, his chest was quickly becoming plump moobs. His v-line has become a u-line. “I-I’m getting fat… daddy why am I talking l-like a fag-got…” Mason grabbed his fattening belly, causing him to moan.

Masons body began to become covered in body hair, where he use to shave regularly, now he looks like he’s never seen a razor. A piercing formed into his nipple, his dad got up and tugged on it. “Smell my musk, boy” Mason’s daddy groped his moobs and played his with sons growing belly. “Mmmm your cock is getting covered in fat, boy. Fat boys don’t get big cocks, you know that piggy.”

Mason reached down and felt that his once 8.5in cock shrunken down to a 3in nub. Fat was swallowing his body and Mason fought with the urge to run and the urge to worship his daddy’s smelly cock. Mason was starting to get smellier and smellier, BO and musk emanating from his body.

Masons transformation was almost over, as his daddy played with his fat belly his brain was becoming foggier and foggier. His cock a useless nub that he can’t use to fuck bitches anymore. The misogynistic muscle head was gone and was replaced by a slobby, stinky fat pig.

What Mason didn’t know was that his father had pissed off a fatass on twitter, and she cursed him and his jock son to be fatass faggots. Because of her, Mason and his daddy were closer than ever before… and they could no longer spew ignorance because they were too busy shoving food into their mouths.

[honeylations]

YU JIMIN x FEM!READER

Prompt: You’ve dreamt of dating a cool, hot, sexy vampire, but why did the world decide to give you the biggest loser vampire?

Warnings/Notes: g!p Vampire Jimin, crack, eventual smut, loser Jimin, human reader, mommy kink, subby Jimin

It was 7am in the morning when you woke up to your alarm blaring in your ears, encouraging you to open your tired eyes. Sitting up, you saw your vampire girlfriend sitting cross legged by the edge while staring at you with a pout.

Right, you were angry at her for the stunt she pulled yesterday.

She baked you cookies as a reward for getting through your exams but your roommate, Huh Yunjin, ate it all like the fatass she was. Yunjin didn’t know they were for you but it didn’t stop the anger boiling within Jimin as she dragged your red headed friend to the backyard of the house and tied her to a tree with debris sitting beneath her feet.

Jimin said that in the vampire realm, anyone who stole another’s belongings were to be punished by being burnt alive.

You remember returning home that day from a lecture the moment Jimin struck the match, screaming at the top of your lungs for her to stop whatever she was starting.

Then remembering her sulking face and how she cleaned up her mess with pure sadness and fear after being scolded by you.

You haven’t acknowledged her presence since and Jimin has been trying to do everything she can to have you talk to her again.

“Good morning love!” Jimin beamed and puckering her lips for her good morning kiss but you stood up from the bed, completely ignoring her so you can wash up in the bathroom.

The vampire flopped face first into the bed and whined.

Yunjin heard the commotion and peeped through the door with crossed arms. “She’s still mad at you?”

“Yes and it’s all your fault!” Jimin’s loud voice was muffled from the mattress she was squishing her face in.

Yunjin caught the words though. “How was I supposed to know they were for your girlfriend?! How about put a note next time!”

“How about have some common human decency and ask before shoving everything in your mouth?! You mortals are dumber than rats!” Jimin finally sat up.

“Your cookies were shit anyways!”

“Shitty cookies that you entirely ate, FATASS!”

You appeared from the bathroom with frustration. “SHUT UP BOTH OF YOU!”

Both girls immediately shut their mouths, but Jimin continued on to flop her face back into the mattress to cry like a dying whale.

“Oh god, Jimin Unnie don’t cry” Yunjin sighed.

“Go sit in the corner Jimin. And think about what you did yesterday and why it was wrong for you to even try and burn Yunjin alive” You ordered, arms crossed over your chest.

Jimin shuffled out of the bed and obeyed. She dragged herself to the corner of your shared bedroom and sat down, leaning her forehead against the wall.

“And stay there until I say so”

“Yes ma’am” Jimin managed to squeak out.

The vampire pouted and played with her fingers to pass the time while you went out to your full day lecture on campus with Yunjin.

As you two walked down the halls, Yunjin turned to look at you. “Y/n, I know it was a scary situation but Jimin Unnie means well. She already apologised…well I mean because you forced her to but anyways, I forgive her and you can stop being mad at her now”

“I’m not letting it slide that easy Jen. She needs to reflect on her behaviour”

“Maybe you’re being a bit too harsh on her”

“You want to be sitting in the corner with her then?”

“I shall close my mouth and never speak again”

Yunjin’s words did echo in your mind throughout the day, making you reconsider the way you were treating your girlfriend at the moment.

You had to remind yourself that all Jimin wanted was to make you cookies but she let anger take over her decisions in the wrong way.

The thought got you dozing off during lectures, at lunch, and even as you were walking out of the campus with Yunjin still by your side.

“Stopped being mad at Jimin Unnie yet?”

You groaned into your palms. “I’m a horrible girlfriend”

“What? Hey no! What made you even come to that conclusion. Jimin Unnie thinks you put the stars in the sky!”

“I should’ve just talked it out with her instead of giving her the cold shoulder. She must think I hate her or something”

Yunjin grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you around. “Y/n please shut up. You managed to pull a vampire that wanted to kill every human she saw in the first place. Now all that vampire wants is to be by your side forever to love and protect you! I’m damn jealous about your wattpad life right now”

“I’m gonna ignore the wattpad thing you said”

“Apart from almost burning me alive, Jimin Unnie is one hell of a loser too. She’d do anything to make you happy even if it meant jumping off a cliff”

“Don’t say stuff like that around her please, she’ll literally do it” you face palmed after a memory flashed in your mind of Jimin almost throwing herself in front of a train just to prove she loved you.

“Now why don’t we put the past behind us and get your girlfriend bags of blood as an apology? I’m pretty sure she’d be hungry by now. You left her in the corner since this morning”

You froze on the spot and looked up at Yunjin wide eyed. It didn’t take a couple seconds for the red head’s eyes to match yours before you both started sprinting back to the house.

“We’re so dumb!”

Barging into the front door, you made your way upstairs to your bedroom and saw your girlfriend still sitting in the exact same position from when you left her. Setting your bag to the side, you hugged her from behind and took in a big whiff of her scent.

“Oh my baby, I’m so sorry for leaving you here”

Jimin turned around and buried her face into your chest. “Are you still angry at me?”

“No not anymore baby” you cooed, comfortably threading your fingers through her black locks.

“Are we going to be okay?”

You kissed her head. “Absolutely. Always”

“Do you still love me?”

“Yes of course! I’ve never stopped loving you, Jimin-ah”

You cupped your girlfriend’s face and repeatedly kissed all over it until she was covered in lipstick marks. Then you led her to cuddle with you in bed, letting her rest her entire body on top of yours.

She snuggled her head into your neck. “I’m still a little sad about the cookies, my love”

“I know, I’m sorry Yunjin ate them. Thank you for making it though”

“You studied so hard for the exams…I wanted to impress you”

Your heart was aching. How could you have yelled at your dork?

“Let me make it up to you, okay?”

Jimin was about to question you but you had already moved her to lay on the bed while you straddled her lap.

“Yunjin can you go buy some blood bags for Jimin?!” You yelled loud enough for your roommate to hear.

“On it! Be back in a bit!” Yunjin quickly answered from her own room, hearing her footsteps fade until she shut the front door and fully left the house.

“That should buy us enough time—“

A notification rung from your phone. You took a glance at the Lock Screen and saw a message from Yunjin which got you a bit confused until you read what she had sent.

[Yunjinnie 🐍: I already know where this is going. Enjoy that 7 inch vampire sausage]

“Fucking sick ass” you muttered, not noticing your girlfriend was looking at your phone too.

“Tell her I’m 7 and a half inches, babe. Not just 7”

You shook your head and softly kissed her. “Don’t worry about Yunjin, she’s a shit head”

“I’ve already established that when she ate your cookies”

Your girlfriend’s frown got you chuckling. “You’re still on about that? Don’t worry, we’ll bake them together someday. But for now, just sit back and relax. Can you do that for me?”

“Mhm yes ma’am”

You pulled your girlfriend pants and boxers slightly down just so you can whip out her cock and stroke it while staring into your girlfriend’s eyes. “Good?”

“M-Mhm…” Jimin hummed.

She bit on her bottom lip, clawing at the sheets when you sped up your hand fisted around her dick. “N-Not enough…can I please have it inside you, Y/nie? Please…” Jimin’s words came out breathlessly, trying her absolute best to look into your eyes but the pleasurable feeling was making it difficult.

“Such a good girl for saying please” you smirked that got Jimin dizzy.

“Please…I don’t wanna cum unless it’s inside you m-mommy”

You were taken back from the nickname even though your hand was still jerking her off crazily. God, your vampire really was a loser.

Instead of answering, you sloppily made out with the vampire, only breaking apart so you can strip yourself out of your clothes.

In a blink you were hovering your wet opening above Jimin’s hard cock, feeling like you were being torn in half when you sat on the tip. The pain gradually got worse when you were fully seated, head resting on Jimin’s chest whereas your hands were holding onto her shoulders for dear life.

“Ah w-what the fuck? H-Hurts so much” you sniffled as Jimin rubbed your back.

“It’s been so long since we made love, Y/n-ie. Don’t rush yourself okay?”

“I liked it when you called me mommy” you managed to giggle through the pain.

“Take your time mommy”

Jimin was so patient with you just sitting on her dick for a few minutes so your pussy could accomodate her size. It felt like you were having sex for the first time. Your girlfriend continued to kiss your neck even when you finally had the energy to move up and then sliding back down with an electrifying pleasure coursing through your body.

“O-Oh…Jimin you feel so good inside me”

“I wanna make mommy feel good”

“You are baby. Being a good girl for mommy” you gasped with an arched back.

Jimin took this as an advantage to suck on your tits like she’s been starved. Well she technically did kind of starve today when you made her sit in that corner and completely forgot about her.

“Fuck…mommy…my love..Can I fuck you? Don’t want you to get tired”

Oh your loser vampire girlfriend was such a gentlewoman. Who were you to say no?

Jimin leaned back with her feet planted flat on the bed so she could thrust her hips up in a fast motion that got you bouncing. Your moving tits got Jimin lost in a trance and she couldn’t help on sucking them again.

She was watching you throw your head back in pure bliss, mouth dropped open releasing Jimin’s favourite sounds. “Can I cum inside mommy please?”

“Y-Yes please baby. I want it all—Oh shit!”

Jimin was literally jack hammering inside you with that crazy vampire stamina she had. The pleasure was so overwhelming that you didn’t catch the way your girlfriend’s eyes began to turn red and were fixated on your exposed hickey-covered neck.

Her mouth began to open and her fangs were presented.

“M-Mommy…I-I really need your blood. C-Can I bite? I’ll make it better afterwards, I promise”

Hearing Jimin beg sent you over the edge. You held one hand on her nape and pushed her face into your neck. “Fuck yes! Bite mommy, baby. Drink my blood and fuck my pussy like a good girl!”

Jimin growled and didn’t need to be told twice in sinking her teeth into your neck. She moaned along with you as your blood flowed into her mouth deliciously. You clenched around her twitching cock and dug your nails into her shoulders when the hot ropes of cum filled you up.

You were creaming all over dick that it rained down her pelvis.

Your girlfriend pulled away as the orgasm died down, licking up the mess on your neck and finishing it off with a gentle kiss on the fang marks.

You fell limp into her body to catch your breath and Jimin’s hand was caressing your back again. “Are you okay, my love?”

“Better than okay, Jiminie…”

“Did it feel good?”

“The best, baby”

“Yay”

You pulled back and looked at her face in disbelief. “Yay?”

Jimin looked down sheepishly. “I’m glad I made you feel good, baby. I love you”

“Yunjin was right. You’re a loser stuck in a hot vampire body”

The vampire’s eyes went into puppy mode at your statement. “Am I your loser at least?”

“My one and only loser” you laughed and leaned in to claim her lips once again, getting a slight taste of your blood.

*Knock Knock*

“Heyyyy sorry to be like…interrupting, but I got the blood bags. I’m assuming you’re not hungry anymore Jimin Unnie” Yunjin spoke from outside the room, her voice slightly muffled.

Even with the door blocking you from seeing Yunjin, you can already see the smirk plastered on her stupid face.

“Nope”

“Rightio. They’ll be in the fridge. Hope you take that pill Y/n! You two are too young to be parents”

“Jimin is 600 years old”

“Yeah I’m 600 years old”

“And even if we did become parents, we’d be the best parents ever”

“Yeah, the best parents ever!”

“Yeah I didn’t ask. I’m not letting my best friend become a mom while she can barely pay her rent”

“oh fuck off Yunjin!” You screamed while Yunjin shrugged and indeed fuck off to her room.

[themareverine]

Designated Driver | oldman!Logan x namelessfem!OC

SYNOPSIS: “Hey driver!” Tits, yeah—counts two of 'em. What Logan can't quite shake isn't the drunk-off-her ass's $20,000 tit job, or even the way his passengers embarrass themselves with shameless come-ons, stupid amounts of money. something else, entirely—a pretty little thing all done up in makeup and curls, wishing she were anywhere but third-wheeling a drunk hen party. "Sorry about my friend, she's—" "Didn't even notice her, honey."

warnings: this is so offensively long, I'm SORRY. flirting, drunkenness, flashing, maybe some oldman!logan inappropriate thoughts, maybe a kiss, general shyness/awkardness of that girl, language, not proofread, mentions of oral sex, OC has blue eyes.

a/n: and finally, after many weeks, it's here. not entirely sure how i feel about this, it's very self indulgent. let me know what you think, and maybe there needs to be a part two?

There’s a lot of things about this fucking limo that Logan hates. 

For one, you couldn’t ask for a shittier lease agreement, and if such a hellish thing dared to exist, Satan holds the pink slip. Two years ago it had seemed like a good fucking idea, leasing some long black experimental piece of Chrysler shit that was heavy off the line and a low fatass—hot as fuck though, with chrome plated lugs. Midnight metal flake showed every piece of God’s earth, the color of sin. Washed the fucker every other day. Couldn’t make green with a dirty rig, and he was an anal retentive sonuvabitch like that to begin with. And the interior, fuck that, it would tell secrets it showed every damn piece of filth that fell into it. Paid or otherwise. 

This shitpiece had a tendency to run hot and burn crude, but, she got the groceries—brought home bacon, if that was even still a thing in this century. Toss up between this and the Navigator the color of bad ideas, he’d flipped for the Chrysler. Industry standard, turned heads, attracted the upper echelon. No intention of hauling around fucktards into the suburbs—black paint looked good under Vegas neon on the strip. 

But the biggest fucking thing he hated about this rig— fucking privacy partition. Busted worse than a fat lip and had been since the jump. Any serious driver, that would’ve been the first thing to check. Separate him from the sin—hot piece of ass that slid into the backseat looking at him like he’s dinner, a couple too deep in on the red to think straight, the fucker on business hiding his wedding ring in his dick pocket as he picks up an STD. 

The first God-awful time he’d went to use it, the damn thing had all but stood up and shrieked in his ear. Grinding gears, the knock of a seized electric motor—scared the shit out of the handsy blonde who’d been trying to get his dick wet since the moment she’d dropped into the back of the Chrysler, tits all but popping from what looked like at least a size too small black—thing. Hadn’t been a dress, he’d seen plenty of them slide in and out—she’d made a spectacle of showing off the little lace number squirreled away for the right price. And it wasn’t that he’d been preening for a look, wasn’t his style—but when it’s right there. Plain as the nose on anyone’s face, and he’s been chaste as a priest for fucking years. It taking up all the glass of his rearview, looking like a felony—the devil had all but welded his attention between her legs. 

”Looks like you’re stuck with me, hm?”  

Fucking partition. A business-only kiss landed two hundred green ones between his abs and the elastic of his Calvins. A handful of hours of rack and many shotglasses later had put him on the scent to hell, the damn dealership. Four hours from the border, four hours from any kind of work—he’d all but flown the thing into the service bay. Demanded a new partition. And, Logan had been laughed out of a lot of places the last two centuries he’d been sucking air—laughed, jeered, driven out with pitchforks. Circumstances aside, it all ended the same. Vamoose, pissed off his rocker.  

An astronomical estimate later, with the fucked-in-the-rear-end isn’t covered by warranty—his fist had collided with the service writer’s nose faster than his patience had evaporated for the blonde. All but jammed the prick’s deviated septum up into his brainspace—Logan had felt it between his knuckles. Only thing keeping his patience held together, keeping the claws in, the man’s crunching cartilage had given him a high not much removed from amphetamine—it had felt good. Feel some asshat’s blood on his hands, staining his skin. See it hit  the floor in fat, thick drops. Feel the warmth of it fade as he brushed it away, coppery scent an idea beneath his nose so familiar it may as well pay rent. 

Didn’t get his partition, though. Just a bad taste of customer service and the satisfaction of seeing a grown man cry. 

Logan isn’t a man to complain—never did change the cards dealt you at the gametable of living. Better to shut up and play, make due with what you’ve got than wish away opportunities. Sure, an almost-lemon of a leased Chrysler with a busted partition wasn’t great, but, it wasn’t that long ago that he’d have given his right nut for the chance to work, much less actual green. Put up and shut up had been the mantra since he’d all but popped out of his mother, and it had, for all intents and purposes, kept him this side of the dirt. Sucking air and feeling, if nothing more—and what was surviving, if not sucking air and feeling? 

Doesn’t know. Doesn’t care. 

Music that’s been muffled most of the ride tonight suddenly isn’t, the back door of the rig flinging open, a wide arch, revealing the world beyond. Neon bleeds across the black leather of his interior. A smack of humidity rushes in, almost immediately fogs the passenger windows— he keeps it ass-in-winter cold, A/C all but screaming full bore. Likes it that way, keeps him awake. Keeps them awake, he isn’t hauling anyone’s ass anywhere because they fell asleep in his seats. 

And while he isn’t startled—there isn’t fucking anything that could scare him, he doesn’t think—Logan’s spine pulls into a straight line against his seat at the sliver of night outside the door. Alarm bells sound off in the back of his head, eyes narrowed on the rearview—hand all but lava, hovering over the gearshift. He’s been here before, on the jump. Ready to rock and roll, ready to kill—should killing need be. He’s lived two centuries on this edge, this cliff. Walking the line between reflex and ready. It’s almost carved into his skin, alarm—comes as naturally as the crest and fall of his chest. 

Logan relaxes a little when a peek of skin slips hurriedly into the back seat, familiar stiletto heels. Air in the limo immediately snaps to an all-soldier attention, flustering—like a disturbed hen rustling her chicks. Something isn’t right, isn’t stable—nuclear, almost. Dangerous. The car shifts a little with incoming weight as one of the night’s passengers whisks into the back. Curl and makeup and the familiar whiff of peaches escorts her in as she pulls the door closed, all too quickly for this to be a normal, unbothered arrival. 

Her. Muscle in his jaw ticks off, it takes willpower not to wriggle in the front seat, shift his weight a little. Usually it helped shake off the hot weight of sex rolling around the base of his gut, desire. Carnal things he’d learned to live without, suppress. Animalistic and snapping at his spine like frothing wolves. Most times, it was easy to not notice—girls, women, came and went in their short dresses and makeup. Pretty to see, but venomous little things. Maneaters, trouble on stilts. None of them were pretty–pretty in the way that mattered, pretty souls. Ugliness shot behind their eyes like bullets, low and cold. Dimes and dozens, nameless and unnoteworthy as they slipped him tips, batted their lashes, kissed him like he was their plaything because who’s he to fight a pair of tits? Forgettable is understating it. 

But her? He hasn’t been able to unglue her piercing eyes from his brain matter. And, he’s tried—like it or not, he’s tried bailing water out of this canoe, a canoe that’s been hallowed and empty for God knew how long. But it’s like emptying water back into the ocean—it only comes back, heavier and heavier.  

No dice. Close, but no cigar–unlucky bastard. 

She’d slipped into the limo before the night had even been an idea, one of three who’d decided to split fare for a sober ride. Pharmacy, first, for little more than IVs of electrolytes and fluids—never had seen girls guzzle so fast, but, whatever. Mile-a-minute chatter he hadn’t even bothered to pace had kept them busy most of the ride into the metroplex, and Logan should’ve prayed they’d ignored him. Kept his fat trap shut and just let them guide him, but God, no. He’d asked—asked for directions. Where they were going. 

Had asked, and fuck him, that had sent things off with a bang. As if they hadn’t realized he’d been there, all three of them had locked eyes with him in the rearview, surprised thrown over the air like a stifling blanket. Heartbeats later, awkward and thick, one of them had leaned forward. Arms over the seat, showing off everything God had given her as she’d all but pumped her bedazzled phone in his face as if it were a shotgun. 

He’d clocked her noticing he wasn’t wearing a ring. Was jacked as fuck under an two-undone button shirt and jacket that fit him like sin. Deliberate choice, but–she’d all but started drooling right there on his lap, hungry like a starving man at banquet. 

Asking God for some shred of mercy had done little—the look on her face. He’d never forget it, had seen enemies look at him with more mirth and pity. Shit. Hungry, in the eyes. Desperate, like a dying woman choking on her own libidol. After rattling off the address, it would've been faster if he’d just hit the brakes and sent her flying forward through the window. Skulking back into her seat as if it were an X-rated shot, she’d eye fucked him hard until she’d been dragged back into hushed, schoolgirl conversation. Gross. 

And that was it, the beginning of the end. Eyes glued to the back of his head like some kind of anchor—Logan could’ve tasted them from here. Was hell trying not to make eye contact in the rearview, feeling their gaze hunting him like wild banshees. Spiking adrenaline, heady plumes of pheromones. Arousal, unlike anything he’d ever wanted to scent—stunk up the air like God knew. Half-starved vixens, all low and bedroom eyes, begging for trouble in all the right little ways that leave men slobbering fools. Had they been parked and out of the Chrysler, the two of them would’ve been on their knees, if not on his cock. 

He’d blasted the air again, because the air in the damn car was so thick he would’ve cut it in halves. 

Low lashes, smoky eyes. Lips the color of cherries. Tight black dresses and heels higher than heaven, they’d been dressed to kill—maybe a little less. Lobotomize, maybe. Cut out hearts, certainly—blue ball, absolutely. 

Pity the bastard who gets the taste of these tarts, pity, and probably mercy. 

Bachelorettes, he’d guessed off the gun. Correctly, too—not two blocks from CVS and out came cheap accessories. FUCK ME may as well have been written in lipstick on Stuck-In-the-Middle’s forehead, he assumed she was the future betrothed. By the look of her, much less the smell, she’d been aching for tonight. Primed and desperate, like an oil-starved pistol. Clawing for it, walking the heat of the desert for change. Something else, something new, something dangerous—cock. Dick. Be it Tom, Harry, or some other poor fool—Logan could clock it from anywhere. She’d been sitting on this for a hot minute. Maybe since she’d been born. 

And Logan’s uncertain who to pity more—her or the mediocre cock she’s about prowling for—the lopsided tiara, tacky dimestore BRIDE sash out of a CVS bag were just warning signs. Red flags, if you were smart about it. Darkness in her eyes would make any man second guess the two carats on her finger, if men weren’t animals. And they were, every one of them—and she’s far too drop-dead to not demand attention, to not homewreck and ruin some poor, unsuspecting fool’s evening. 

Watching her slip those two carats into her handbag, he’d just shook his head. 

Silence to stir the dead had followed after they’d eye fucked him into celibacy. Blissful, sweet as the Nile quiet. A creak of movement, the slip of skin on leather—her. Short brunette curls with highlights, icy blues.  Defined collarbones in a hardly-strapped dress, big earrings. Sparkles, everywhere, blended into makeup that’s been on awhile but still looks good. And she, she isn’t like the rest—not by a mile. How she moves, the way her lashes flutter. Doe-eyed and sweet. Doesn’t smell like sin, the kiss of color on her cheeks isn’t blush, either. 

Peaches, this one smells like fucking peaches. Something floral. 

She’s sweet. Saccharine, sugary. Like everything Logan’s forgotten. Pretty, in that girl-next-door kinda way—the way he’s always noticed, the way nobody else ever does. And what a pretty thing like her is doing in the back of his sinwagon, riding with Jezebels, hunting for trouble—he’ll never know. 

Hours before this, she’d leaned forward, pretty hands on the back of his seat. Done up nails that looked fake, but not cheap. This close, he could see her contact lenses replacing nine-to-five frames, the permanent little indentations on her nose were unmissable. Ocean eyes smiled at him through the glass of his rearview, as if it were a game. Good at it, she won—he blinked first. 

Offered him a little half smile, that dust of color on her nose darkening to an almost strawberry. When his eyes hit hers again from the road, icy blues ramped up like pulsing neon, unlike any he’d ever seen in two fucking centuries. Difficult to think, he’d had to realize he was holding his breath in the pocket of his cheek, hot against his molars. She’d reached across the back of the seat to gently nudge him with her elbow—hey. It should’ve sounded like something you gave to horses, but it was—considerate. 

Nearly fucking polite.

You got the address okay, sir? If his tongue hadn’t swollen to the size of his balls he’d have dared to laugh at her. Sir. If he thinks hard, Logan can’t remember the last time he’d been seriously called sir, from a place of consideration, behind the ribs. He’s been alive for hundreds of years, seen a lot of shit and blood, but has been called a professional and crisp sir all but five times in his existence on God’s planet. 

Shaking himself out of it, he tells himself she isn’t the first pretty skirt to grace the leathers of his Chrysler. To look pretty and smell good, to stir up his cold blood. Wouldn’t be the last, by far. Part of his marketing was that he was safe. Stuck around, even when the witching hour faded into bleeding colors of morning. Fair & There, as if he were a fucking marketing guru. 

She’d slipped out of the limo with her friends even though he’d wanted her to stay. Wanted to smell her and look at her all night, mull over all the things in his life he’d abandoned. Think about how, maybe, in some other world, bend of time, something that sweet could belong to him. But, she’d thanked him. Obviously the designated sober of the night, she’d arranged to text fifteen minutes before they wanted to leave in case he wanted to get a drink or took another gig. 

I’ll be here all night, and that wasn’t a lie. The flask burning a hole against his heart had enough whiskey to last him until morning, another bottle tucked under the seat for safekeeping. He was safe, he was there, and too damn tired to even try to think about driving around the city on a time schedule. 

It’d been two hours, parked under the neon at the curb. Not even midnight. Normal clients would just be breaking stride, setting paces. At the gate, snorting like stallions in heat. Rutting like animals, working the game. Nothing he didn’t know all too well, he’d lived his wild years a lifetime ago—he knew what sex and booze, a good time smelled like. Could clock it every time, wasn’t daft. Had witnessed his fair share of back-alley fucks, the straightening of a hemline. Crooked buttons and tented-out slacks. 

Tonight wouldn’t be different, he assumed—well. Had assumed. Which, as the saying went, made him an ass. 

Her heartbeat from the frontseat is almost tangible, hard and fast. Jackrabbit—as if she’d dropped it in his hands, bleeding and raw all over his fingers. Logan’s eyes fall away from the rearview for a beat, ticks back to her when she slides across the seat. Straightening the end of her dress, which hits below the knee–or would, if she were upright, but now pulls at her thighs. And the way she fiddles with it suggests it’s shorter than it was earlier in the evening, when sin was exciting and didn’t slap like a bitch. 

Tucked in against the opposite door, looking out tinted glass like it’s a skyline worth seeing, not just a lot of nothing. And something’s off, he can feel it in the little pulses of electricity of the air, the heat in her blood. Anger. The tick tick tick of frustrated fingernails on the edge of the window. Upset. It buzzes in her blood, which he can feel thumping against her bones from here. Slick scent of sweat between her thighs, swirls of alcohol and pyrotechnic smoke mixed with fairy dusting drugs. It’s enough to make him shift, crack the window. 

Long gone are the peaches and florals, now she just bleeds with heat and virility enough to stir the gods. Fucking perfect. 

How long’s it been, old boy? Dull pangs in his cock make him shift up in his seat, stir some blood into his feet. Eyerolls, gaze hitting the pavement out his window, sick fuck. Just a girl, just like the rest. Reaches inside his breast pocket for a cigar and a light. 

And as much as he wishes it isn’t true, Logan can’t quite shake that she ain’t just a girl—not by a shot, long or short. He’s seen a thousand of them, sure—seen and tasted and fucked senseless. Yeah. But—none like this. None that make him burn at the drop of a hat and a smile. None that twist his guts like a corkscrew, rip him open like he’s a fresh kill. He didn’t even know her name, anything about her. He swore to God he wasn’t this type of man, couldn’t be bought with some pretty eyes and cherry lipstick. Happened to wet-behind-the-ears boys only ever hoping their balls dropped into manhood, not guys like him. Not men that had seen a thing or two, not men who had sampled the female sex from every fucking era the last two hundred years had presented. 

Not men with demons, not men with metal bones and rust spinning through his cells like Satan’s blood. Not him. 

But it doesn’t seem to matter, because her presence in the limo upsets his sensibilities like an earthquake. Seemed to fillet him like a fat bass, pull his ribs back to watch his heart beat. Everything he didn’t know, everything she could be—choked the life out of him, those wicked blues heavy as steel. If he weren’t careful, she’d see through him, like—like memories. And she, like everyone else, wouldn’t like what she saw lurking in his bones, in the organ behind his ribs. 

All his life hiding who he is, years hiding from everything the world wanted to label him, only to—

Fuck. Yeah. Something’s off—is his leg bouncing? The fuck is that about? Fuck, fuck. His fingers card through his hair, cough aching in his bronchial tubes. Shit. 

Another glance in the glass reveals she isn’t even looking at him, thoughts out the window in the shifting low lights of the limo’s interior. Maybe a million miles from here, but nonetheless—she’s everywhere, every damn where in the space of the Chrysler, this sinwagon that’s messing with his head. Everything about her. Her scent, her pheromones playing him like a fucking game, the heat along her spine. Blood in her veins, ripping through her heart, the pull and push of arteries and cardiovascular muscle. Mesh of her lungs, rising and falling. He’s tuned into it like it’s the fucking evening news. 

And everything about this is wrong, his guts swim with it. 

Fingering the cigar between two swollen knuckles, Logan ignores pain that zings. Rips through the adamantium in his arm like it’s starving, hunting for air. And Logan is maybe considering that he’s lost his mind, that it’s somehow taken up residence in his dick, when—-a sniffle.

Good fuck. Is she crying? Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

It’s magic, the little breathy thing girls do when they’ve been crying, but don’t want you to flag it. Witchraft, maybe. Men will never understand how they do it, cry without tears, but—it’s a thing. Definitely, confirmed by science somewhere, some egghead in a lab taking notes on female specimens and how they manage such emotion while still looking like she does. Vaguely his memories spin with all the girls he’s known throughout his life, and how every single one of them have this ability hardwired into their core being, mutations aside. 

Biting the cigar between his teeth in the corner of his mouth, he flicks the lighter between his thumb and index finger, holding it up in line of sight. His head angles to look up at the rearview, a rough cough rattling the mesh of his lungs enough to trigger her attention. And sure enough, she has been crying—her knuckle gently brushes at the trails of tears all but neon on her face beneath the limo’s lights, eyes flicking to the rearview to meet his. 

Coughing, he eases his back against the seat. Hot muscle burns a little as tension bleeds away, “You care if I smoke?” 

And why he asks, Logan isn’t sure—he’s never asked before. Then again, he’s never had to ask, because it’s a standing policy to not smoke on a gig. Tonight, though, he needs something to do with his hands, to calm the magma rushing through his blood, the cold sweat bubbling up on the back of his neck. Staining his white fucking shirt. Even a blush from the grave and exhausted, slowly dying away from whatever is inside of him, he isn’t an idle man. If he doesn’t do something, he won’t be able to help himself—he can barely fight back the urge to not lose whatever sanity’s buried alive and get himself off, right here and now.  

Anything to masquerade the scent of whatever’s slick between her legs. You are a sick, perverted fuck, Logan. True, probably. But it’s been years, a lot of years. And he hasn’t wanted a lot of women, hasn’t clocked many that he’d actually enjoy rousting up a fantasy over. And she smells like a good time, something he may not actually regret. That would be a first. 

Tucking a little tighter against the door, her eyes close as she gently shakes her head. Curls flick around her features as she does, and she cracks her window before reaching forward to slip off both shoes. Logan had noticed them—yellow, bright highlighter yellow so jovial they may as well have smacked him upside his head. So out of place, but they were sexy as hell—he’d always appreciated a well dressed woman, and as impractical as they were, high heels did add a punch of something that made him a little hard in the dick. 

“I do, but go ahead,” it’s a little sigh, one he’s all but five-star VIP familiar. “One of us should enjoy ourselves, anyway.” 

In zero to none he flicks the lighter to life, burns the edge of the cigar until it’s hot. Thick, it rides his throat perfectly—chases that gut-twisting urge that’s coiled around the base of his spine like a viper. Through his blood it goes, ramping up the rust and poison and years that kill, and he heaves a sigh—falls back a little rougher against the seat. That ache in his cock twitches, but she retreats. 

His eyes fall closed, heart settling down behind his bones. “You wouldn’t happen to sell those little bottles of booze in this rig, would you?” Makes him start a little, and Logan blinks. A little surprised, he angles to look over his shoulder at her, arm lifting to drape over the bench seat. Brow raised, she elaborates, obviously reading his expression. “You know, the luxury part of ‘luxury accomodations’?” 

“Not a part of the deal, honey.” 

“Ah, you don’t like money, then,” the corner of her mouth ticks up with a smirk when he shifts a little more in his seat to study her. He catches what she lays down, without thinking. “And I ain’t anyone’s ‘honey’, so don’t be an ass and assume. Please.” Blinking, Logan can’t remember the last time he felt his stomach actually lift with amusement—the little way she says her ‘o’s’ is dangerous, suggests the north–either Canada. Minnesota, Wisconsin. North Dakota maybe? Anywhere but this far on the border, the edge of the world. Interesting.

Fucking Calliban. Knew he’d regret the hard copy that albino had suggested, but, it was too little too late. Surprised, he manages a little growl of complaint before he leans forward, hand fumbling against the floorboard carpet of the passenger’s side. Knuckles nudge the bottle of Jack Daniels, and he grabs the neck of it before allowing it to dangle between his fingers. Amber liquid dances like a tornado through the bottle, sloshing against the glass like a dream. 

Unstopping it, he pulls back a sharp drink of it. “Have at it,” it’s rough, raw. Irritation peeks through the teeth of it, but it’s more resigned than anything. 

Leaning forward, her eyes hold his and she hesitates to snatch the bottle away, hand hanging in the air. She’s got lithe fingers, bigger hands—hands that look strong. His attention cocks slightly when he notices the callouses, the scars on her knuckles. They aren’t polished, nine-to-five office hands like ninety percent of the girls who pass through his service. Briefly he wonders what her fake nails would feel like curled against skin, but dismisses it when she plucks the bottle from between his fingers. 

“Thanks,” her chuckle comes from her gut, almost a growl of relief that says finally! as she puts the cool class to her lips. Guzzles back a full shot. Rights, her cherry lips part into a small smile as she hands the bottle back, passing her thumb over left behind lipstick. “Good God that burns,” managing a little cough, Logan replaces the stop and pops it between his thighs. “But it’s good. Takes the edge off.” 

I bet it does. He manages a growling mhm, settling back into his seat. Thinking that’s the last of it. Content to look out the window and smoke his cigar, not think about the heat ricocheting off the adamantium in his pelvis. How it stirs up his blood, how her voice is that perfect lilt of low and just high enough. 

Head swimming with the mental picture of her beneath him, breathless and hot, he bristles to attention when her arms drape over the front seat. Very suddenly all Logan can smell is the heady smell of woman and sweat rolling off of her like a locomotive. 

She mutters under her breath something Logan can’t quite track, bit the way she picks at a nail with her teeth, gaze anywhere but inside the low limo’s lighting, would imply negatives. And she could’ve started reciting the phone book, he wouldn’t have noticed—far too busy noticing cleavage and the valley of her collarbones to be able to think straight. 

But his stare gets heavy, she notices the thick air that’s smothering the limo like a wet dream–her eyes find his, a little smile at the corner of her mouth when his flick away. Oh, good fuck. Her eyes bore into him through the rearview. Uncapping the Jack, he takes another sharp pull of it. It chases the warmth in the back of his throat, blooming in his chest like he didn’t know what. 

More pregnant silence. She shifts against the leather, hot skin sticky against it. Reaching to put the car in accessory, Logan fiddles with the A/C. He clocks her swiping her heels from the floor, wrangling them back on her feet—hadn’t she just taken the damn things off? 

“I should go get them before either of them do something they’ll regret,” her eyes cast to the clock on the dash, which isn’t terribly far from his ID information, which is offensively just there. “It’s late.” It isn’t, not really. Logan thinks this has to be the most conservative hen party in the history of such things, but his jaw clamps shut. 

If he can bail them out of his car early, he may be able to catch a few hours of sleep before the early-hour rush. That hour when last call sends boozers into the streets, looking for rides. That’s where the money was, after all—and God knew he could use the dough. 

Her hand floating over the handle of the door, as if she’s waiting for his consent. “Paid by the hour, darlin’,” and Logan does not miss the way darlin’ hits her—sharp eyes flick down to his mouth for a fraction of a heartbeat, a little plume of color lifting to the apples of her cheeks that definitely isn’t rouge. Blush, they called it now. She has plenty of it on her face, but it darkens something pretty in a way that, usually, would amuse him. 

Instead, now, he just lifts a hand to slot through the openings on the Chrsyler’s steering wheel, ignoring the ache between his knuckles. 

He can’t have arthritis, can he? Popping the latch, he twists out of the limo. Crosses around the front through the headlights to her side. A flick of his fingers and he pulls open the door, highlighter yellow heels spilling out to the pavement in that Hollywood way. 

He doesn’t do this— he makes a habit not to touch customers. Usually his hand finds his pocket, as a rule. But for some reason, her eyes skating through the dark, panning around the street and the front of the club, lights the mesh of his lungs on fire. Offering her his hand, its appearance before her drops a rod through her spine—she straightens, blinking at it once before her fluttery lashes look up at him. 

He wonders if the little flick of muscle in her jaw actually takes muscle memory. Looking at him with a look that’s uncertain, that’s you sure? heartbeats pass and make the moment uncomfortable. Shuffling his weight on his feet, his hand falls from the door and to his pocket, palming the lighter against his thigh. Phlegm and whatever else God created in the human body rattles around the poison in his chest, a low cough echoing off his bones. 

It takes her a second to collect, looking between him and his hand. “By the hour. Right,” her eyes skate down his chest, over all of him, as if she’s making sure. Her hand slips into his too lightly to matter, as if she’s making an effort to limit contact—and that’s a good thing, because Logan is fairly sure the world had stopped spinning, the electrical pulses of his body kicking to overdrive at just how alive her skin feels. Senses heightened to infinity. He could count stars, maybe, with the way her nails deliciously press into his palm, rough and hard. Warm, the scent of peaches all but punches his lights out—he can’t even taste his cigar, body enamored with the way she smells, how her hand all but boils in his. 

The fuck, Logan. 

Stepping out, sharp eyes navigate the front of the club, and a blackhole of the universe suddenly opens between them when her hand falls away. Heels tick against the concrete as she turns to face him batting the door closed. Hands in pockets, he kicks back against the Chrysler. Waiting. 

“Thanks,” her smile is small, eyes casting down to the filth of midnight on the concrete, “It shouldn’t be long.” 

He shrugs, “‘S your money, honey,” is followed by a grunt as she nods, turns on her heel. Sashays back into the front of the club before flashing a wristband to the bouncer. Between the help eyeballing her in that dress and Logan unable to stop ogling just how it clings, highlights every curve of her, it’s a miracle either of them are still standing. 

Reappearing fifteen minutes later with girlfriends in tow, Logan folds them into the limo politely, without incident. Giggling, traces of the night have painted both of her companions—long gone is the bride sash and dimestore plastic tiara. Replaced by smudged-and-attempted-to-be-fixed makeup. Teased hair, ruffled clothes. Nobody could miss that hickey for anything, it would take stock-market shattering amounts of base to cover it up—Mars would have a better time trying to see needles in haystacks. No amount of cigar smoke clinging to his clothes, sweat hanging out as an idea under his nose could cut through that unmistakably sweet musk of sex, sweat. 

Before Logan can ask where to point the Chrysler, the other girl pops off an address from her phone to what is most definitely not their hotel, or anywhere remotely in the neighborhood of partylife. Brow raised, Logan peeks the rearview to see his companion whirl so quickly in her seat, he wonders how her head is still attached. Look on her face says everything words don’t, but she asks anyway—”Where the hell is that?” 

Trying not to overhear, but it’s impossible, he fiddles with the temperature controls again when the one lifts the hair from the back of her neck. “It’s a hotel,” no shit, it’s the most expensive district in the area. Highbrows stay here—he’d picked them up on the opposite side of the metro, in the middle class accommodations. Sour bile splashes up the back of his throat, jaw setting–he knows what’s about to happen. 

“No, really? And here I thought it was the frickin’ monastery,” lunging over her friend stuck in the middle, she plucks the phone from her friend’s hand—laughing hysterically, face flushed with alcohol and tipsy giggles, her jaw opens fully on its hinge. Rapt attention almost has his heart exploding, he nearly misses the stop sign—pops the brake a little hard. 

She studies herself against the door, eyes flicking to him for half a second. Phone flipping screen first to her friend, she nods to it. “Who the hell is Mike?” Lowering the phone to her lap, her eyes skate between the two friends, hard. Heavy. Fast. “Oh my god. Don’t tell me—” 

“It’s just a fling,” her name rolls off her friend’s tongue sourly, like cold venom. If Logan weren’t so invested in the outcome of this conversation he’d think it was almost melodic, a unique name. Fine and perfect for the sweet little thing currently erupting in his backseat. Too busy pacing traffic, his tongue skates along over his back molars, “don’t get your panties in a twist, honey. It’ll just for a few hours, to have some fun.” 

“A few hours?” The actual squeak in her tone was laughable, “You’re joking—you’re actually kidding me. You can’t just go fuck some random guy you met in a bar, you’re getting married.” Offensive hangs in the words like a hot iron, branding itself into the atmosphere with weighty judgment enough to make her chest rise and fall with rapid, uneven breaths. “I won’t let you—”

Eyeroll extreme, Logan could’ve flinched with how much it snaps like a whip. “Oh my god, would you just chill out?” Looking to the other friend, who’s phone is still held captive on her lap, Logan bites the inside of his cheek. Like black cobras their chests fan out, both of them turning to cast frigid judgment to their third, who is pressed against the door to create distance from the very idea of the two of them. For fuck’s sake, “It’s just oral, honey—” 

He snorted. All their eyes trip to him, but Logan is nothing if not suave—covering with a cough, he bites back a smile into his lower lip, looking down to his lap. Holy shit, they were actually having this conversation. In the back of his limo. If he weren’t so amused, it could be hot. Smokin’. 

But the look on his companion’s face is too horrified, too innocent for him to take any enjoyment out of the topic of conversation flitting beneath the lights of the limo. It’s scandalousm, really. Nothing he hadn’t seen before, but, it just—it didn’t fit. Without knowing anything about much, he knows this isn’t her. Neon Heels, brunette curls. Lipstick barely upset, smelling like peaches of sweat. He could feel it in the very adamantium slowly flogging life out of his body. 

Color drains out of her face, milkwhite like a ghost. He’s fairly certain she’d rather cut out her tongue and serve it to him on a silver platter than actually go through with such things. Logan knows a thing or two about life, he’s studied humanity for a lot of fucking years—he knew the good ones when he saw them. Pure, untouched. 

Or, at the very least, good. 

“Just oral?” 

“Would you just stop, ok? Nobody is asking you to come up. Don’t need to be all, all pissy just because nobody noticed you at the bar,” and it’s hot, like acid. Cutting to bone. Logan watches the words cut like knives through the mesh of her chest, and if his collar wasn’t absolutely on fire, he’d have the audacity to smack some decency into whatever the fuck this chick’s problem was. “It’s not your thing. That’s fine. It’ll be just fine,” leaning forward, the bride informs him that once he’d dropped them at the hotel, he can take her back to their hotel. We’ll just Uber back in the morning. 

“Fine by me.” 

And it makes more sense, the longer he thinks about it. Explained the tears, the fluster in the atmosphere. Pushing the Chrysler through traffic, the tension in the atmosphere snaps like a rubber band—she doesn’t even flinch. In fact, her jaw clenches. Muscles ticks off bone, and she hands back her friend’s phone before falling back into the seat, eyes cast out the window like they’ve been welded to the darkness. Wind out of her sails, her elbow props on the windows ledge, subconsciously her hand covers half of her face. Quiet as death, unmoving as a sarcophagus. 

Logan had never seen someone’s soul die while they were still alive, but he figures this was close. 

Silence enough to make the dead uncomfortable follows for a few seconds. He focuses his attention on driving the limo rather than looking in the rearview, because noticing the look on her face, actually caring, is so far out of his pay grade that it’s laughable. To her credit, he doesn’t think she’s actually crying—hell would sooner freeze over, he reckons—but her brow is set in such a hard line, that he can almost read the regret on her face in red letter clarity. 

Ensuing conversation about how the bride’s tits look in her hardly-there dress has him almost disinterested. Guiding the Chrysler up to the curb of the hotel, he almost misses "Hey driver!" that's more giggle than it is anything else. Eyes tracking to the rearview, Logan isn’t nearly as surprised as he thought he would be when she rips down the front of what was once, probably, an investment dress—tits, yeah. Nice ones, too—bought and paid for by the looks of it. Tits that size don’t just sit up at attention without a calculated surgeon’s hand. 

“Like what you see?” 

Puffing out a little nervous chuckle, his brow trips up. He shakes his head, amused. Erupting into a fit of snickers and snorts, their cheeks darken with heat. Falling against themselves, the two of them think they’re fucking hilarious as they begin to discuss the course of their adventure. May as well be full fledged pornography in the back of his rig, the things that fly—it sparks up his blood, empties his mouth of any moisture Jack Daniels may have rousted. 

God couldn’t have brought up the hotel’s curb any faster, he thinks. Dropping the Chrysler into park, he angles to pop the latch on his door. Misses completely the moan of leather, the little rock of moving bodies shifting around the backseat. 

Logan all but jumps when two hands come around him from behind. “Maybe you should come upstairs, driver—bet you could show a young bride a thing or two, huh?” Fuck, fuck fuck—hands that palm down his chest, snake under the buttons of his white shirt are hot. Hot, practiced. Soft and deliberate, one of their nails flick against his nipple, beneath his undershirt—he grunts back a sharp breath, head all but braced against the Chrysler’s hard headrest. 

Adamantium kisses the flesh of his knuckles, and it takes effort not to let loose—more brainpower than he wants to admit, fighting back the reflex. Hand shaking on his knee, he inhales an uneasy breath and presses the heel of either hands onto his knees, biting the corner of his chapped lip. Hand drifting lower, almost to his abs, he snatches her wrist with a speed he doesn’t remember. Couldn’t, hadn’t, for as long as he can think back. 

“Somethin’ tells me you know plen’y, honey,” his eyes narrow in the rearview. “Plus, I don’t do free fucks.” 

She chuckles, pleased. “Who said anything about free?” Lifting her hand away from inside his shirt, he throws her off—cackling like the little witch she is, she folds out of the limo with her friend, “Very professional of you, driver,” he couldn’t miss the darkness in her tone if he’d tried as she winks at him from his window, “drive safe. Precious cargo, back there.” 

Could’ve fooled him. 

A wiggle of her fingers goodbye to her friend in the backseat, the hotel’s thick doors swallow both of them whole. Vanishing in a twirl of hair and makeup, Logan turns in his seat to consider his last passenger. She hasn’t moved, merely has kicked off her heels—but she has allowed herself to cry. Fresh tears fall down the length of her cheeks, but she doesn’t sniffle. They’re silent, powerful. Say everything words don’t need to—it’s a deep knife, one that bleeds. Logan can see the film reel running through her brain, on repeat. As if it has subtitles. A black and white horror show of just exactly what had happened, how she’d ended up here. 

Curling a leg up under herself, Logan watches her shrink into as small of herself as she can, forehead resting against the cool glass of the limo’s window. And it’s tragic, really—someone who looks like that, reduced to a teary, smoldering shell of a person by mere words. Logan knew people were cruel, he’d seen the worst of humanity up close and personal. His own life was hell trapped in bones and flesh, his own history more horrific than anything Hollywood could dream up. 

He drives. That’s what he does, that’s who Logan is now. A driver.  

It’s another 20 minutes across town. And the ride is ominous, a mummified tomb that’s suffocating no matter how much air whisks into the limo from open windows. Trapped between wanting to say something and unsure of how to react, he relaxes a little when she finally slips earphones in—mindlessly scrolling a cell phone. Swiping at tears that ruin makeup she no longer cares about. Alone in her own little world of music and heartache, he watches the night fall away from her—her hair goes back into clips, away from her face. Earrings come off. Out come the contacts, replaced instead with glasses from the purse she’d left on the floorboards. Gum, more scrolling on her phone. Heels set on the seat beside her–finally her eyes close as she rests against the cool glass. 

Gently rolling the Chrysler to a stop at the curb, she sits up. Breathlessly, she stretches a little, lashes fluttering behind frames that accentuate the shape of her face. And Logan doesn’t remember thinking anyone has ever looked good in glasses, but she topples such ideology when she beats him to the punch—she pops the latch on the door and steps out, barefoot. Heels tucked under her arm, purse hanging off her shoulder, she meets him at his door when he slips out of the front seat. 

Handling cash had never felt so cold, bitter. She doesn’t look at him as she counts it into his hand, more than they’d agreed. Slipping the remainder of it back into her bag, she steps back, smiling at him softly. Resigned. Apologetic. Light from the overhang of the hotel sets off whatever shine is on her face, tear stains all but left behind—replaced instead with pink cheeks and sad, swollen eyes. 

“Should be square,” she nods to the cash in his hand, “you can count it again if you want, I won’t be offended.” Briefly Logan thinks to care if her friends had managed their parts of the fare, but he dismisses it when she bites the inside of her cheek, tongue skating over her bottom lips as she shifts awkwardly on her feet. “Thank you so much for tonight—you have a beautiful limousine. The whiskey was great, thank you.” 

Nodding once, he shrugs a shoulder. She’s buying time in that awkward little way people do when they’re not sure what to say, but think they have to say something. She doesn’t, wouldn’t ever—but he wants her to, strangely. Logan could stand here and listen to her come up with things to say the rest of the night, if he knew it wouldn’t deepen the color on her face, drive a little deeper the knife that’s still gutting her in the ribs. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, her eyes track up to his from her feet standing on the warm concrete. “Listen, Logan—” she remembered his name, “I’m sorry about my friend. She’s really wasted, and it totally wasn’t alright for her to proposition you like that. It was actually gross—but that’s not who she is, not really. I’m sorry. She’s just—” 

“—didn’t even notice her, honey.” He lies. What else is there to do but lie to this pretty little thing, bloodletting her own pride out at his feet? For a long set of years, Logan has believed there’s very little good left in the human species—very few people who are worth giving two fucks about. But she’s so galiant, defending some slut’s non-existent honor, drowning in her own humiliation and everything he can only imagine happened during a hen party gone sideways. 

“Oh, uh, well—” oh. How she says it, the little curve of her mouth. That accented “o”. It’s enough to make him insane, honestly. He’s been with her two hours and can hardly think past the twitch of his cock, the little ache that niggles in the back of his head. Behind his eyes. It gets a little hard to fight, the snapping air between the two of them—for a man who knows what it feels like, it’s difficult. She couldn’t be more nonplussed. Which says more than it needs too, makes it all the more sweet. “Sorry, oh my gosh. I’m just a little—I don’t do things like this.”

And that is honorable, even if there’s very little honor left among the thieves of humanity. She is honorable. So saccharine and pretty it physically hurts him, drying out the back of his throat and knocking at his ribs like a damn jackhammer. Her eyes holding his, searching for anything else, are so deep and alive, bright in the way only Polaris could ever challenge—he suddenly forgets where he is, what century it is. How he got here, what he’s doing, reaching for the thin strap of her dress. 

The back of his knuckle gently skips over her skin, the strap of the dress. And before Logan can even manage a breath, his hand moves under her chin, tips it up a little. Unmoving, her eyes widen like two bright moons, light catching them and opening them up like oceans fully unpassable to the known universe. From here he can feel her pulse flying through her blood, and couldn't miss the butterflies in her stomach if he’d been on a different planet. And maybe she’s never been appreciated like this—maybe she’s never felt seen. 

Fuck, the things he could do to her. “Quit apologizin’ for bein’ sweet,” he manages a low rasp, the corner of his mouth ticking up with a little grin, “very few pretty things left in the world that’re sweet,” tipping her chin up a little further, his lips hover over hers. “And I bet you taste as good as you look, honey.” Tucking some hair behind her ear, he rubs one of her curls between the calluses on his fingers. 

He gets back in his car, and Logan drives. Because that's what he does—he drives. 

tags: @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @fandomxo00 @th3mrskory @blossoming-hotch

[vilintciay]

"Body Tease" - OSAMU MIYA X READER

content warning: smut!!, breast & thigh groping, teasing, osamu is a little shit, reader has sensitive boobs lmao, osamu is a bully ngl, degradation, slight grinding, slight breath play, slight face slapping, swearing.

pairing: Osamu Miya x !sensitive reader word count: (1.6k)!

"Stay still..what the hell are ya' even doing..?"

Osamu murmured lowly, reaching an arm towards your figure, his palm slowly sliding down to your stomach to your lower hip pressed onto the mattress.

He wrapped that arm around your waist to bring you close, stopping your annoying back-and-forth shuffling. Grumbling something about 'losing his focus of trying to sleep' from the disturbance with your movements.

You'd groan lowly in discomfort, furrowing your eyebrows in annoyance from the lack of space the small singular bed provided, muttering something back with the same annoyed tone.

"Ugh.. Shut up. It's not my fault ur fatass is taking up most of the space in this cramped ass bed."

Osamu scoffed, his annoyance growing. He tightened his grip on your waist and rested his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent. Your back basically pressed onto his front now.

"y're exaggerating.. It's a small bed." He mumbled in his low-toned grumble, his palm caressing your stomach slowly and later your lower abdomen, eventually snaking that same palm under your shirt to rub on the skin on your tummy, causing your stomach to involuntarily flex from the ticklish contact.

"Tch.. Just shut up n go t'sleep already.." You mumbled, turning your head to stuff your face into the pillow to get more comfortable and try to get some shut eye. Aware of his wandering hand but brushing it off, too sleepy to care.

Osamu would huff, rolling his eyes before shutting them as well, keeping you close with his arm around your waist. His hand mindlessly tracing circles on your tummy before making its way up your shirt, cupping a tit and squeezing it to help him relax.

Your eyebrows would twitch, furrowing them and letting out a small noise, torso slightly flexing from the contact of his palm on your nipple, sending little electric waves down your body and stomach.

You could feel the nipple slowly harden with his kneading, your annoyance and irratation bubbling up again from the lost of focus. "gh-.. damn it, 'samu hands off.. what're you.." You'd turn your head slightly towards him, eyes still tired and shut, placing a hand on his forearm to try and stop his movements.

"what."

His tone was bored and tired, clearly annoyed from the interruption of his concentration again, his hand never faltering it's movements on your breast as he nuzzled his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his free arm snaking under you to wrap around your waist and his free hand caressing one of your hips.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress another low moan at the way his large hands would knead your breast so firmly, one of your free hands gripping at the sheet under you for support in keeping your shit together.

"Stop fucking squirming like that, I can't sleep." He'd murmur again, the rough annoyed tone in his voice caused your frustration to boil up even more as you sucked in a breath, gritting your teeth.

"Stop touching my shit Osamu, I can't slee- nh-..ah" You'd lean your head a bit back, cutting yourself off with a low moan at a particular roll of his palm on your breast, your head leaning on his shoulder as your legs hiked up slightly to clam together.

"Tch, ye'r so goddamn sensitive. m'barely touching ya'" He'd gruff lowly, annoyed to hell and back from your squirming as if he wasn't the reason why.

He'd continue kneading and squeezing at your flesh, brushing off your pleas and demands with a roll of his eyes. Damn it, could you just shut up? Your tits felt so soft and squeezable against his rough hands, why would he wanna stop now? Last time he checked it wasn't his problem that it caused you so much trouble.

Your body would shudder slightly at his words, biting your lip helplessly as he pleases himself with feeling on your flushed and almost twitching body. Face flushing a deeper red with each squeeze and knead, your stiff body arching slightly from the sensation that kept you bound and squirming on the bed.

You brought the back of your hand that was previously gripping the sheets below you to cover up the noises you accidentally let slip, your breathing starting to labour, growing even more sensitive with each intensity of his fingers rubbing on your sensitive nipples. Mentally cursing his nonchalance and bored like demeanor while I was over here getting used, panting and whimpering like an animal just cause he wanted to grope a pair of tits to help him sleep.

"Mmhn-.. Fuck-.. y-... s-such an- asshole-.."

He snorted, finding amusement in your misery as he smirked against your neck, slightly nipping at the skin there to keep his mouth busy, —and bonus points to egg you on further. "Mm.. what can I say..? u're easy.." He murmured, his other hand caressing your hips moving down to your legs to give a firm grip and squeeze to the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

You'd barely stifle another moan on your hand, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut. The feeling of both his hands squeezing and kneading on you plus the feeling of his breath and soft lips grazing, nipping, and licking on that specific sensitive patch of skin on your neck was clouding your mind. Fuck, you were going crazy, the knot in your stomach tightening within each minute.

".. Keep it down, dumbass.. m'trying to sleep e're.." He'd huff again, laced with that same tired tone but you could hear the smirk in his voice and you hated that you could practically feel the ache shooting down your stomach to your legs, leaving your already damp panties to sit in more soak.

"S-shit.. mmff-.. God, shut upfhk-..!"

You felt yourself almost choke at the way he'd cut you off, lifting his hand from under your shirt to shove two digits in your mouth, not even knowing if it's to shut you up or to lubricate them. Either way, you were too fucking lost to even care, sucking and swirling your soft tongue on the thick fingers, almost rolling your eyes back from the way groans behind you.

"Fuuck.." He breathes on your neck and you swore you felt one of his legs twitch behind you, the hand kneading your thigh moving up to press and rub on your clothed cunt. Involuntarily causing you to clamp your legs tighter, trapping his hand between your plush thighs with another choked moan around his fingers. "Damn it, I could feel it. . u're fucking soaked.. Needy bitch.."

"..u're enjoying this aren't you..? yeah, yeah y'are.. ..pantin' like a dog in heat after only a few squeezes."

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, lightly tapping a slap twice on your cheek before cupping both in his hand as he lets out a low mocking laugh. "you're fucking pathetic, shit."

And you couldn't help but whine desperately, that same tight knot in your stomach from his words just begging to snap. His hand cupping your face returning to squeeze and paw at your breasts again, fingers coated with saliva— your saliva... you couldn't help but be aware yet so lost in your clouded mind — rubbed and pulled on your oh so sensitive bud, causing even stronger shockwaves drop down to your stomach, shooting down to your soaked cunt. And at that point you couldn't even suppress the soft moans and whimpers that would fall from your lips.

"Ah.. Ahh.. ahhnn- f-fuuuck- ah- ah-nn mmm- s-samu- osamu-..!" Finally it dawned on you. Shit, you were close. Just a few squeezes and you were already putty in his hands like a damn bitch in heat. Wait, why do I feel like someone had *just* said that? Nevermind. You were literally about to cum from only getting your tits kneaded and you didn't even try to put up a fight in the first place. How embarrassing.

You stuffed your face into the pillow once more, whining, groaning, moaning, whimpering, crying. Shit, you completely lost yourself at this point. All you could do was chase your high, no longer caring if you moaned or cried too loud.

Osamu, continued to suck on your nape, guiding you through it almost sweetly as if he hasn't been torturing you this entire time, snaking up his other hand under your shirt to squeeze at both of your tits, moaning softly at the feeling of your soft flesh on both of his hands, his hips subconsciously stuttering as he jerked his crotch on the cleft of your ass, your constant moans of pleasure striking something in him.

"mmFfuck!! -.. G-gnna-gna- c-cum!.. shi-shit-!.. Osamu!!.."

"Holy shit, jus'hurry up and cum already.."

He'd roll his eyes and groan lowly on your neck, sighing and resting his face in your hair, taking in your scent. His body laying still and tired behind your squirming one. With one last rub and squeeze,

"FUuuckkK!! Cu-cumming!! .."

"Fucking finally.."

-

You'd pant against the pillow, your chest heaving intensely as you felt your heart hammer against your chest, slowly coming down and recovering from your high.

Osamu retracted his hands from under your shirt and wrapped them around your waist, bringing you closer to him as he pressed soft and gentle kisses down your neck with a tired sigh followed by a yawn.

"Mm.. y'okay?" He'd mumble against your skin, his eyes already closed and ready to pass out at any moment.

"Mmh.. Yeah.. All good-" Snores. Against your skin. Oh well.

Turning your body to wrap your arms around his neck, you brought his head close to rest on your chest before snorting lowly and shaking your head with a soft smile on your face.

"'..'night, 'samu.."

[loveriotss]

AQUARIUM DATES WITH HIM ⸻ izuku midoriya + katsuki bakugo + shoto todoroki

INCLUDES — gn! reader, fluff, crack, headcannons, drabbles, smau WARNINGS — swearing + the picture for the posts don’t depict your gender/race/outfit or anything like that, just the pose!

main masterlist — mha masterlist ༊*·˚

⌗ izuku midoriya 🐢

he is a big aquarium geek!! he WILL get tons of merch from the gift shop…

taking izuku midoriya to the aquarium was like taking a little kid to one. you sigh to yourself as you watch him zip from tank to tank, his face pressing up against the glass panes as he gasps in awe. “y/n look, it’s a jellyfish! apparently this one can..” and there he goes, rambling off about some facts he read about it. you honestly find it cute that he’s fascinated by everything. “izu let’s go check out the turtles!” you say, grabbing his hand as you drag him towards the exhibit. “look at that one!!” he exclaims happily as he points to one particularly large turtle that seemed to be lazily floating near the glass. the day continued on, each exhibit was wonderful but it wasn't until you two passed the gift shop that his enthusiasm reached a fever peak. "wow, look at that!" he exclaimed excitedly. "do you want to go in?" you asked as you giggled at his happiness to which he nods hurriedly. and finally, one whole hour later you two emerge from the shop, his arms piled high with bags. plush dolphins, keychains shaped like jellyfish, and a tiny replica of the aquarium’s most famous fish swayed with each step he took. "i think you didn't get enough stuff" you teased as the tip of his ears went red. ♡

⌗ katsuki bakugo 🦈

he thinks all the fish are ugly and weak (except the sharks).

going to the aquarium with katsuki bakugo was a whole ordeal. first you had to beg him to come and now you have to convince him that this is not a waste of time! "come on kats, at least pretend you like it here!" you say as you pull him along by his arm, resulting in him just grumbling more. "look at this stingray! isn't it so cute?” “that shit looks like it got run over by a fatass truck-” “KATSUKI!” you yell as you slapped your palm over his mouth before he could spill out more profanities. you give a weak apologetic smile to the mother nearby who had her hands clasped over her little daughter’s ears. “there are little kids here kats, watch your mouth.” you warn. “whatever. can we go see the sharks already” he mumbles back as he scans the area for the shark sign. your face breaks out into a soft smile as you giggle. “if you wanted to see the sharks that badly you could’ve just said so!” you exclaim before leading him towards the shark tank. at least he thought that this fish wasn’t a piece of shit. ♡

⌗ shoto todoroki 🦀

he likes the touch tanks.

aquarium dates with shoto todoroki were always quiet and peaceful until he decides to drop a bombshell on you or tell you one of his outrageous theories. you and shoto strolled through the aquarium, fingers interlocked as you two were now standing in front of a tank that held a particular fish with red and white scales. “look sho! this one is red and white, just like your hair!” you say pointing towards it. “do you think this fish also has traumatic family issues-“ “okay shoto that’s enough, let’s go somewhere else” you say hurriedly before taking him to another section of the aquarium. “no way, they have touch tanks!” you exclaim with excitement as you pull him towards the tanks, peering over the glass to look at the small critters. you look over to your side and see shoto, who’s so close to the water that it’s practically touching his face. “you can touch them you know” you say to him as you slowly put both his and your hand in the water, gently caressing the shell of a little red crab. the touch tank had shoto HOOKED and it took you a while to finally get him away from it. ♡ 

NOTE — just a silly idea that was in my head :3 lmk if y'all want other characters too! (preferably request 3 at a time). i had sm fun making this aaa

©loveriotss — all rights reserved to me. please don’t try to copy/steal my work. please do not use any of my ideas/translate my work without my permission.

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK men react to different insecurities part 3

Pairings: Nanami x overweight fem! reader (requested by @deegausserr) Choso x fem!reader with big breasts (requested by anon)

Yuji/Todo x tall/curvy fem!reader (requested by @sitarawrites, @hitori979, @sophyr05 and anon, I see y'all my tall queens)

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: not 100% proofread, as usual don't read if you feel triggered by those topics, listen I literally have no boobs so I'm beyond sorry if Choso's part is shit, overweight and big breast parts contain insults (please note that this is definetely not the way I feel about it!) but also so much comfort from your favorite characters, you are beautiful just the way you are 🤍

Part 1: Nanami x reader with facial scars; Megumi x reader with small breasts; Sukuna x reader with acne (click here to read)

Part 2: Nanami x reader who doesn't want kids; Gojo x reader who gained weight; Megumi x reader with hooked nose (click here to read)

Nanami with an overweight reader

(Imaging him grabbing those ass bully girls like this okay)

You cover yourself up the minute he enters the room. He, the man who caught your eye since the beginning. He, who looks so effortlessly good in that suit. He, a well-trained man with a body like the statues in ancient Greek.

“Hey, the same as usual?”

“Thank you, (y/n).”

Just him, Kento Nanami. And you? Well, you have nothing in common with all those things. To be exact, you aren’t even sure if he ever noticed you. Why would he? You are nothing but a worker in a coffee shop, average-looking and…

You swallow. You are overweight. Not that it would bother you this much. After all, you work hard for your money each and every day, you do your best to keep your head above the water. You never really felt the urge to lose weight until reality, or rather other people, hit you.

“Oh, look who’s working again!”

“Did you already eat all those muffins? How is it possible that when you’re working, all the food is gone around this time?”

There they are again. Breathe in, breathe out. Everything is alright. Just suffering a few minutes, just letting their words hit you a little longer and they’ll be gone again. You just have to get through this. It’s not like you haven’t heard those group of actual grown-ups say those nasty things to you over a hundred times already.

But no. Today, it isn’t that easy. Because on the table in front of you sits none other than Kento Nanami who reads his paper and sips on his cup of coffee like he always does. Why do you suddenly feel the urge to defend yourself, to make them stop talking to you like that?

“Can you guys just leave me alone? I’m doing my job here, okay? Would you like to drink or eat something-“

“Fat pig”, one of the blonde girls suddenly spits at you.

This is nothing new. You should be used to it by know, all the countless insults especially that group of four girls always spits at you are too much to even count. Then why…Why do your eyes roam to his perfectly trimmed blonde undercut, why do you ball your fist in an instant?

What a dumb mistake. One of the girls follows the direction of your sight, breaking out in hysterical laughing when realizing that you were looking at Kento Nanami. No, please don’t make a stupid comment, please just grab a coffee and leave this place. Even though it hurts to get reminded of the stinging fact that you are overweight almost every single day, what hurts even most is…

“I can’t believe you! Why would a fatass like you even look in his direction? Can’t you see that he’s out of your league? God, you are so pathetic it makes my wanna cry. I mean, don’t you have a mirror at home, can’t you see that you are nothing but a fat fuck? Nobody will ever want you, (y/n). Especially not a handsome man like him.”

It’s hard for Nanami to contain his temper, hand already trembling threatful. Who do these girls think they are to talk to you in such a nasty way? You are breathtakingly stunning with eyes that radiate nothing but kindness, you work so hard each and every day. You…

You don’t deserve this.

“Leave me alone”, you mumble again.

And for the first time in forever, your throat starts to burn as well as your eyes. At this point you were so used to getting picked on that you didn’t even cry about it anymore after some time. But this…this isn’t about your weight anymore. This hits you right where it hurts.

Kento Nanami.

You don’t even dare to look his direction, eyes pierced to the ground while their venomous laughs fill the room with hatred. The urge to just get out of here, to leave this place and never return becomes almost unbearable. Maybe…maybe you should really lose some weight. Your eyes dart towards the counter in whose glass your figure is reflected.

You feel absolutely horrible and disgusting. A silent sob escapes your lips. Yes, why would someone like Kento Nanami ever want someone like you?

“Awww look at her, now she’s crying!”

You can’t take the shame anymore. Without thinking twice, you storm out of the coffee shop, ignoring your co-worker calling out your name behind. It began to rain in waterfalls, your tears now mixing with the drops from above.

There was probably never a moment in your life where you hated yourself as much as now. What where you even thinking, getting all excited every morning because of that force of a man? Were you really too dumb to realize that Kento Nanami would never fall for a girl like you?

A fat pig, a person so undisciplined that it shows, a girl that could never wear his t-shirts as a dress. You are a nobody, an ugly figure in a world full of skinny models-

“(y/n)!”

That voice makes your guts turn in an instinct, heart pounding against your chest. You pick up your pace immediately, almost running down the rainy streets of Tokyo into an alley. Of course, he followed you. After all, Kento Nanami is a gentleman out of romance books, the perfect man. But you’d rather die that let him comfort you. No, you don’t want to hear that he’s sorry about their cruel words, you don’t want him to look down at you with his pity-filled eyes.

You simply can’t take it.

“Hey, (y/n). Please look at me.”

With a swift motion, he grabs your wrist and turns you around. You feel like dying right here and now, his chocolate brown eyes seem to pierce right through your soul.

But then…

He pushes you against the wall and just kisses you. His lips collapse onto yours with so much passion that it simply takes your breath away, his eyes roaming around your body hungrily. You stare at him in sheer disbelief. Is this really happening? Are you dreaming? Countless lonely night, you imagined what it would feel like to have him this close, to feel his body against yours. And now…And now that gorgeous man pinned you against a wall.

“Don’t you dare to believe a single word they said. I promise you that they’ll never speak to you like this again. I made sure of that.”

It feels so surreal, almost too good to be true. Is he only doing this out of pity, because he doesn’t want you to feel bad? Your heart sinks painfully. Is that what this is about?

“You don’t have to do that so I’m feeling better”, you mumble against his lips.

Instinctively, you cross your arms in front of your chest, hiding you like you always do around him.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel better”, he replies in an instant, hands gently untucking your arms to place his own around your waist.

“I’m saying this because I can’t take my eyes off you since I saw you the first time I stepped into this café. You have to be the most beautiful person I have ever seen, (y/n). I adore your delicate curves, your inviting smile, your unshakable character. I love the way your hair falls and how you prepare my coffee. I adore you just the way you are. Did you really think I’m there because of the coffee? It’s not that good if you’re asking me.”

His comment makes you giggle your tears away and shaking your head at the same time.

“Yeah, the coffee isn’t that great to be honest”, you comment.

“But you are.”

He looks down at you all serious again, his intense gaze making your knees go weak in an instant.

“And I want nothing more than to take you out to a nice restaurant.”

Choso with a reader who has big breasts

You were never keen to meet new people, especially men. Not because you aren’t talkative or enjoy others company. No, it’s because you never know how they’ll react when seeing you for the first time.

Even though especially other women are jealous of you because of how big your breasts are, you truly hate them. It seems like the second you meet someone, all they have eyes for is your cleavage. No matter if you wear a baggy shirt, your uniform or one of the dresses you normally adore so much, your boobs come first. And you fucking hate it.

“Hey, why are you so nervous, (y/n)? I’m sure you and Choso will get along just fine!”, Yuji tries to cheer you up with a kind smile.

“And probably your-“

“Shut up right now, moron”, Megumi mumbles instinctively.

You sign to yourself. It’s clear that he’s just trying to be nice and funny, but to be honest you want to cry. Since puberty hit you, no one ever saw you like an individual anymore. No, you are either sexualized or body-shamed.

“Would you crush me with your melons for some money? C’mon (y/n).”

“There she is again. Look at her tits!”

“She’s just showing off. What a slut.”

“I bet those would be a good ass pillow.”

You are so damn tired of it. Tired of all the people talking about you behind your back, tired of being nothing but a sex object, tired of having no character. Even though here at Jujutsu High, people seem to finally get that you are indeed a human being all by yourself and would never talk badly about you, you can feel their looks.

“Oh, there he is! Come on, (y/n)!”

No, no, no. Is it too late to just turn around and leave this place? Maybe Maki is still free, you should go and grab a drink with her. Or even better, barricade yourself into your dorm and return when this man is gone.

“You must be (y/n). My little brother told me a lot about you”, a dark voice introduces itself.

Your eyes dart up in panic. Oh, you just know how this goes. First of all, he’ll look down at your breasts. If he’s having at least a spark of decency, his eyes will dart back to your face and roam around when he thinks you’re not paying any attention. And maybe, just maybe, he won’t mention your cleavage for quite some time.

“Nice to meet you”, you mumble annoyed already.

Huh, his eyes rest right on your face, a small smile forming itself on his lips. You tilt your head to the side, squint your eyes in confusion. Well, this is definitely new. He didn’t even look at them, not a single glimpse onto your body.

“Is it true that you have a thing for blood manipulation? Yuji told me you are interested in learning more about that technique.”

“Well, yeah…”

You have to blink a few times. He is so…different from everyone else. Not even Megumi resisted the urge to look down at you, you even heard him talking about it with Yuji someday. But this man…what was his name again? Choso? He seems to be curious about…

You. Nothing but you.

“I am quite skilled when it comes to blood manipulation. If you want, I will gladly show you a few things.”

“Y-yeah…I mean…That would be nice. Like, today?”, you stutter awkwardly, completely caught off guard by this unexpected change of scenery.

“If you have time, of course.”

“Okay, then…I’ll change now.”

“I’ll meet you at the training field.”

“Yeah…”, you mutter.

As soon as you leave the room, Yuji seems to finally regain your voice.

“And? What do you think about her?”

“I think she seems quite nice for a human being.”

“And what else?”

A big pause that makes your heart shatter for a brief moment. Maybe he isn’t as different as you thought. Maybe he’s just thinking about your cleavage like everybody else does, maybe-

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Haven’t you seen her,…y’know…Megumi?”

“He means her breasts”, Megumi clarifies.

“Why would I look at her breasts when she seems to have an interesting character?”

Your heart almost beats out of your chest, ears literally unable to comprehend what you’ve just heard. It really shouldn’t touch you like that. But oh, the second you begin to realize what that stranger just said your eyes get glossy. It might only be a little statement for him, but it surely means the world to you.

In a world that shames on you for something you can’t change, in a world in which men only took you on dates or talked to you because of your breasts and not because of your personality.

Choso seems to be the first person who genuinely doesn’t give a fuck about the way you look. And oh does it feel nice.

“Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought”, you mumble to yourself.

Yuji and Todo with a cury/tall girl

Just one look at him seems to sweep you off your feet. The way he walks, the way he talks, simply the way he carries himself. It wasn’t hard to fall for Yuji, but it was definitely rough to find out he isn’t interested in you.

“What kind of woman is Yuji actually into?”

Nobara looked at you up and down, visibly bamboozled about what you’ve just asked. There aren’t many things she doesn’t think about, but Yuji Itadori’s type is definitely one of them.

“I don’t know girl…But I guess he’s the type for rather short girls, don’t ya think?”

You hated the way your heart instantly began to ache in your ribcage. Of course he does. Aren’t all boys nowadays into petite girls with a bubbly personality? And to be honest, you are none of that.

Taller than all the other girls and even some boys around Jujutsu High, curvier than anyone else, probably uglier than the rest. You never put much thought into all of these things, but right. Why would Yuji be any different from all the guys you’ve met before?

“Who the hell is this woman, Itadori?”

Todo can’t help but shamelessly stare at you. This is too good to be true, a sight straight out of his dreams. You…You are even better than Takada-chan.

“Huh? Oh, that’s (y/n)”, he replies with a small grin, just one look at you making his heart stumble all over again.

He hasn’t seen you in quite some time now that he thinks of it.

“What kind of woman is your type, Itadori Yuji?”

The pink-haired boy has to blink a few times, eyes still set on your delicious curves and gorgeous long legs.

“I like tall woman with a big ass.”

“Is that your final answer?”, he huge boy next to him urges, grabbing him by his uniform so roughly that his eyes yank away from you.

“Yes!”, he replies immediately.

“Then get going, we need to talk to this beauty over there”, he announces, dragging Yuji behind him before he is even able to reply.

You tilt your head to the side. What the hell is going on over there? Who is that shirtless guy and…is that Yuji he drags behind him as if he’s taking out trash?

“You!”, he shouts into your direction, eyes seem to pierce right through your soul.

What the hell is this about? Should you run away, cry for help? He definitely looks pretty dangerous to you with the way his muscles seem to grow with every step he takes towards you.

“Hey, let me go! I can walk by myself!”, Yuji protests.

“Now talk to her”, Todo hisses, almost pushing him into you.

“Oh, hi (y/n)!”

“Well, hi Yuji…”, you answer rather confused.

You look even better from over here, your body lingering over his own by a few centimetres. Yes, you have to be the biggest woman Yuji has ever seen with a character so badass that no one can hold a candle to you. And those curves, those oh so delicious curves…

“Tell her what kind of woman is your type”, the guy next to him demands harshly.

“Stop being so damn loud, she hears you!”

“Oh, I definitely do. What is all of this bullshit about and what kind of freak are you exactly?”

“Itadori loves tall woman with a big ass.”

Well, that’s rather unexpected. Yuji turns as red as a tomato, not daring to shoot a single glimpse your way. But Nobara said that he likes petite girls and somehow, this always made sense to you. Still, his body doesn’t lie. And the fact that he doesn’t say anything against it tells you…

“You like tall woman with a big ass”, you repeat.

“Well, to be honest, I just like you, (y/n)”, he mutters along with scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

“I like you too. You have to be the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. Let me cherish you for the rest of our lives”, the guy named Todo purrs.

“Hey, I thought you were my wingman and now you’re trying to steal my girl away from me!”, Yuji protests.

“When did I ever say that, moron? We might be brothers, but this right here is my girl-“

“WE ARE NOT BROTHERS AND (Y/N) IS NOT YOUR GIRL!”

“I’ve been crazy about you for so long. I can’t believe you actually find me attractive, Yuji”, you interrupt their little chitchat.

Your heart feels light as a feather, so good that you are almost think about giggling out in sheer joy.

“Are you kidding? You are what dreams are made of, (y/n)! I was just too shy to admit…”

“I’d never be too shy to show my love. Pick me, (y/n)!”

“GET AWAY FROM HERE!”

“I’M NOT LEAVING MY GIRL BEHIND!”

"That's enough, I'm leaving. See you around guys", you announce with a sly grin.

"OUCH, DID YOU JUST SLAP ME TODO!?"

"JUST THE WAY YOU DESERVE IT, ITADORI!"

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz

[stxrr-strxckk]

Shakedown, 1979 1997!

(General South Park Headcannons)

A/N: Just some silly little headcannons of our favorite main 3 boys! These are non romantic but I can make romantic ones too if y'all want! Cartman isn't included in this except for little cameos he makes in the other hcs.

Any warnings?: Cartman being Cartman, a lot of swearing (obviously), Cartman is just really antisemitic.

What's on the record player?: 1979; The Smashing Pumpkins

Stan Marsh...

✭Stan and Kyle are super close in height. Like, down to the millimeter. You know how some people get measured against wood beams and there's little marks for each age? Stan and Kyle have one they share in Stan's house. Blue marks are Stan, Green marks are Kyle. He made Kyle keep his hat on when they measured since his hair gave him extra height.

"See? I'm taller!" Kyle grinned triumphantly.

"No way, dumbass. It's just that stupid fucking hair, right Cartman?" Stan looked over at his friends for approval.

Cartman nodded. "Yeah, it's that jewey ass hair, Kyle. It makes you seem taller and your nose seem smaller." Kenny's muffled snickers could be heard through his jacket.

"That isn't true, fatass!"

"Yeah stop making fun of his big nose Cartman, he can't help the fact he looks like his bitchass mom." Stan laughed, and Kyle shoved him.

"Hey! Not cool dude, that's my mom you're talking about!"

"Okay, okay, just push your hair down so we can prove I'm taller."

"No way man."

✭Once he gets older, Stan grows facial hair crazy fast. He has to shave every 2 days, at least. One time his razor broke and he had to wait until he got paid to get a new one. He grew the ugliest mustache known to man and Cartman started calling him Chewbacca. His mom said he looked just like a younger version of his father, and that's when he knew he had to get rid of it soon as possible. He wound up finding a waxing kit and tried to get rid of it that way. Long story short, he wound up with half a mustache and burns all over his upper lip. His mom had to let him use her razor to get rid of the rest of the hair. He refuses to touch any kind of wax now.

✭Listens to bands like Weezer and Blink 182, convinced their songs are made for him. "It's just like my life-" no it isn't. You're just a loser.

✭Not a very athletic guy. He's tried every sport under the sun(his parents made him), they're just not for him. He tried drama club too; hated the acting but liked the tech aspect. He ran spotlight for a few productions but ended up quitting because of how much the other guys made fun of him.

✭He had to play cello when he was younger, and quit the moment he started high school. He still knows a few songs and was pretty good.

✭He's insecure about his thick eyebrows and nose. He has a greek nose and thinks it's a lot larger than it is. Kyle judges him every time he starts talking about it.

"No, it sticks out so much! See?"

"You're joking, right?"

"No, it's so noticeable!"

"Dude. At least yours is straight. Mine is hooked. Hooked. You think I like this fuckin' thing in the middle of my face? Hell no!"

✭Whenever he's pissed at Kyle he ends up complaining to Kenny since he can keep secrets better than Cartman (and because people can never tell what Kenny's saying)

"And then he said 'grow up Stan, it's not too big a deal!' Like he wasn't just hung up about some girl rejecting him- At least me and Wendy actually dated! You know who wants to date him? No one! He's never even had a girlfriend. Yeah, you know that girl from Canada who he talked to online for a whole year before she ghosted him? That was a fake account me and the guys made to troll him. He never realized. And what's funnier is that-"

"Dude, you've been talking for like, ten hours. I need to get to sleep, it's a school night.

"Right. Sorry. But can I just say-"

"Out."

"Alright, I'm leaving. But Kyle's such a dick, he won't even stand up to his mom for me-."

Kenny has to push him out the door and lock it so he can't get back in. Then Stan and Kyle make up a week later and everything goes back to normal.

✭Was actually convinced he had superpowers when he was younger, around 5 or 6. He predicted it would rain once and all of a sudden he thinks he controls the weather. He told the guys and when they called his bluff he got super pissed and made everyone on the playground watch as he used his weather powers to try and make lightning strike. He ended up falling off the monkey bars and he now refuses to go anywhere near them.

Kyle Broflovski...

✭Puberty hit him like a truck. And not in a good way. All of a sudden he's 8 inches taller, growing a ratty mustache, with some of the worst acne and and a voice that cracks like no other. (Cartman makes fun of his voice until his starts cracking too. The hypocrisy is wild.) He was also the first in the group to start puberty. He thought he'd feel so mature and cool but ended up hating it.

✭Thankfully, now that he's taller he can actually play basketball without getting blocked by everyone. He's the tallest in the group, around 6'2 or so.

✭He has prescription glasses but never wears them because he thinks they make him look dorky. They do, but that's only because his mom picked out the thickest frames so they wouldn't break easily. When he's wearing glasses, he looks like Bart Simpson in the episode The Last Temptation of Homer, when he gets all nerdy and shit. Kyle even has the orthopedic shoes to boot.

✭He runs a dnd campaign for him, Stan, Kenny, Tweek, Craig, and Token. He used to invite Cartman but after his millionth tantrum they decided it was better without him. Kyle usually dms and sometimes writes a few of his own oneshots for the gang to do.

"Okay, as you trudge through the jungles of Chult, an animalistic cry pierces the air. Everyone roll an intelligence check!"

"This better not be another one of those dinosaurs," Stan groaned. "I just got mauled by one back there."

"Roll perception and you'll find out!" Kyle replied with a grin. "The tomb isn't far, guys. This should be one of your last encounters."

"Wait, we're not even at the tomb yet?!" Tweek's eyes widened. "We've been in this jungle for days!"

"I told you guys Tomb of Annihilation wasn't going to be an easy adventure." Kyle shrugged, before going back to business. "Okay; Craig and Token: while the rest of your party shrugs it off as just another monster you'd rather not deal with right now, you two recognize the call as a Hydra's- and it sounds hungry."

"A hydra? Dude, we are so fucked!" Stan yelled.

"Those things have like, 20 heads! Oh fuck!" Tweek added. A residual groan was heard around the table as the boys realized the danger they were in.

"This sucks ass, Kyle. How'd you talk us into this adventure? We shoulda done Curse of Strahd..." Token complained.

"Mm hmm!" Kenny agreed, crossing his arms.

"Come on guys, I believe in you! It doesn't even have that many hit points!"

"I hate to admit it, but we could really use Cartman's fireball right now." Craig sighed.

"Hey, we all agreed. He's never invited back. Not after the massacre..." Kyle shuddered.

"You're right. We'll just have to hope Princess Kenny can charm this thing." Stan nodded.

(Little bonus: Stan is a fighter, Token is a warlock, Craig is a ranger, Tweek is a paladin, Kenny doesn't have a main class he likes but mostly plays rogues or bards. Kyle usually plays as a sorcerer when he's not dming and when he's invited Cartman plays a wizard.)

✭Kyle doesn't seem like it but he actually is kind of strong. Yeah he's lanky and uncoordinated, but he can throw a pretty good right hook. He's done boxing for years. Started because he wanted to get Cartman to quit making fun of him. He's pretty fast too- he tried track out in middle and high school. He's good at jumping hurdles because of his long legs.

✭He has braces and the amount of food that gets stuck in them is criminal. He starts carrying around a little compact (the ones with two mirrors) just to make sure his teeth are clean after lunch and Cartman calls him gay for it.

"Wow Kyle, I didn't think you could get any gayer but here we are." Cartman said at lunch as Kyle whipped out a little compact.

"Shut up fatass, I'm just making sure I don't have food in my teeth like you always do."

"Ey! I do NOT have food in my teeth, thankyouverymuch." Cartman crossed his arms in a huff.

"Yeah, cus you're too busy eating everything that gets stuck in your mouth, fatboy." Stan said, Kenny laughing in agreement.

"I already told you, I'm just big boned! You're just jealous that my mom cooks me good food, not that jewey stuff Kyle always has."

"Fuck off Cartman, you'd probably eat that too."

"Yeah, no way dude. I like my food American, thank you very much."

"Dude. That's so racist."

"Oh, I'm sorry, is it racist to want to eat normal, all-American food?

✭Hear me out on this one: He's fluent in brainrot. Says skibidi on the regular, refers to himself as a sigma rizzler, all that shit. Since he has to babysit Ike all the time he's pretty caught up on gen alpha slang (Ike watches skibidi toilet unironically. He makes Kyle watch it with him). He started using it around Cartman who was convinced he made it all up. Him, Stan, and Kenny had a field day with it.

"Dude, that's so skibidi!"

"Kyle. What the fuck are you saying."

"You know, skibdi. Like, the thing on tiktok?"

"Don't tell me you don't speak brainrot, Cartman."

"I- I do too! I just... Didn't understand Kyle with his gay ass voice.

"My voice isn't gay, you gooner!"

"Hey! I'm not the gooner, you are, you... gooner!"

✭He barely ever gets haircuts. When he does, his mom just puts a bowl on his head and cuts it herself. It's part of the reason he started constantly wearing his hat. If you've seen that scene from pen15 where Maya gets her hair cut, it's just like that.

"Mom, you promise you won't go too short this time?"

"Of course bubby! It'll look the same as always, I promise."

"Mom- the clippers-"

"Shh, I know Kyle, just trust mommy."

"But the guard-"

"Trust mommy, Kyle."

"It's not the right one- it's too short-"

"No, it's okay! Trust me, I've done this more times than I can- oh."

"What? Is it bad?"

"Uh- bubby, just remember, you have a very handsome face, and if any of the boys say anything about your hair-"

"Oh, no. It's bad."

"No! No, it's just- it'll take some getting used to."

"Let me see. Where's the mirror?"

"Uh- maybe it's best if you just... Put your hat back on..."

✭He can't talk to girls for shit. Resorts to online chatrooms to try and flirt. Has gotten catfished 13 times. At least 3 of them were Cartman.

"No, Stan, I swear! She's real! Her name's Daisy, and she lives in Florida. She says she really wants to meet me, too! So I saved up for months and sent her 1500 for a first class plane ticket here. Check it out, she's pretty cute, right?"

"...Dude. That's Taylor Swift."

"Again?!"

Kenny McCormick...

✭He's a biter. And I don't even mean in a "ooh so freaky and kinky" way, I mean in a "he once bit Cartman so hard he peed his pants and refused to be within 5 feet of Kenny for a week."

✭When he gets older he ends up growing his hair out into a kind of mullet-wolf cut thing, he looks like Kurt Cobain.

✭He's actually pretty smart. He just doesn't think school is that important for him and doesn't wanna try too hard and get unwanted attention for being smart. Purposely gets Bs and Cs so his friends won't beg him for answers.

✭starts giving himself piercings once he's older. He's too poor to get them from a professional so he just uses old needles and snow to numb the pain. They almost always get infected.

✭Draws penises on his friends homework so they get in trouble when they turn it in.

"Yeah, and then she was all like- Dude!"

"What?"

"Again? Mr. Garrison is gonna collect this any second! You really had to draw a dick on it?"

"Heh, you gotta admit stan, it's pretty funny."

"Shut up fatboy, he drew it on your paper too."

"Wha- hey!"

✭He's a scrappy fighter. If a kid tries to fight him, he's biting, scratching, hair pulling, everything. 9 times out of 10 he wins and the other kid winds up absolutely wrecked. Once head-butted someone so hard he knocked out the kid's teeth. Now nobody fucks with him.

✭He was the only member of Moop who actually stuck with making music after the whole strike. He's the most musically inclined of the main 4. Wrote a few of his own songs but most of the lyrics were about loving boobs and pussy so record companies didn't end up signing him.

✭We all know he plays drums, but he also started learning electric guitar when he started his solo career. Can't sing for shit though (unless it's opera), so he tries using autotune. It just makes him sound worse.

✭He's the only member of the main 4 who's nice to Butters. Not just because he feels guilty he's a loser, but because he actually enjoys hanging out with him and how genuinely nice Butters is. The two are actually pretty good friends, Butters gets his mom to pack him extra food he gives to Kenny so he and Karen don't end up going hungry.

✭Was 100% the kid who taught everyone what sex was. Also brought his dad's nudie mags to school and showed all the guys.

"Gross, dude! What is that?"

"I dunno, I found it in my dad's room. All the girls inside are showing their boobs! Check it out!"

"Eww, why are they so pointy?"

"Because, Kyle, girls boobs start out pointy and then, once they turn 30, they get all saggy, like your mom's."

"Gross, dude! Don't talk about my mom's boobs."

"Yeah, don't talk about Kyle's mom's saggy boobs Cartman."

"Stan!"

"What? I'm defending you!"

"Hey guys, you wanna know how babies are made?"

✭As he gets older he starts to see through all of Eric's bullshit like the other guys, but still supports his ideas more than Stan and Kyle. He doesn't wanna just abandon him.

✭Amazing with kids. Shockingly so. He basically raises Karen on his own, so he knows how how to deal with kids better than the other guys. He tried to start a babysitting business after he realized how much money he could make, but if fell apart after Cartman joined and started to get the kids he babysitted involved in a ponzi scheme.

"Cartman, you did WHAT?"

"Nothing! I just had an idea..."

"Oh god, we're screwed."

"Cartman, WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

"I just thought, if people invested in our business we could get them to keep hiring us, and we can get them to invest by making them give us money in exchange for more money back, and instead of actually giving them our money, we'd just give them other people's money who also invested, and then we'd have infinite money!"

"Cartman you dumbass! You ruined my business! We're bankrupt now!"

"Ohhh, I'm sorry Kenny! I just wanted to get us infinite money! But I guess if you don't need my genius ideas, I'll just start my own babysitting business and steal all your clients. Is that what you want?"

"If it means you'll leave us the fuck alone, then yeah."

A/N: Hope y'all like these hcs! I'll probably make romantic ones soon. I'm already working on some more South Park stuff, I got a few requests I'm really excited to write! Please like, follow, and repost! XX, Starr!

Wordcount:2747

[getosfairy]

〈 Ex!Toji x Fem!Reader �� „What a shame, if you were mine you would not get the same —“ 〉

« Song »

Warnings » NSFW +18, 3.0k+ Words, An awful boyfriend (he don’t deserve a name), slight mentions of smoking (weed), slight mention of blood, sorta physically inflicted pain(“fighting”), awee kissing mwa!, mention tongue touching, finger.. sucking?, sex. PnV sex. Slight nipple play, sorta choking (if you count the back of the neck, I don’t but..), Toji calls you ‘Ma’!. (Not much else I think I’m bad at writing warnings)

Dividers By @/onlyasimp4nobody

Don't, don't play with her don't be dishonest . . .

There's always some type of issues and bullshit when it comes to you and guys, and obviously today was no different. Your boyfriend, for a lack of better words, has been an awful man, and it's been killing you on the inside. Every comment he makes about your appearance no matter where the two of you are like – “Blonde just really ain’t for you” to “That dress makes you look fat.” – Whatever shit he can pull out of ass to spit out, he will find the meanest way to say it and it is very fucking annoying. It doesnt just stop there, he’s dishonest, and he loves to fuck around and play with you heart. You wouldn’t call yourself some real and scary bitch because deep down you're a lover girl, and he uses that to his advantage. He decided to pull this shit today as well, out of every place he waited till yall were at this small get together.

You, him, and a few of your friends were hanging out smoking and talking when he opened his fatass mouth to spit out another one of his insults, “These jeans make your ass look flat,” that one little comment ruined not only your mood but the mood of everyone in that room, and the fact that it wasn’t even a big party embarrassed you even more. You took a deep breath looking back at him like he's crazy, cause he is. Not only that but he had the nerve to smile at you after claiming it was a joke and smack your ass like shit was really sweet. 

“Nah man you can’t say shit like that,” Looking up you see your friends giving you that 'you gon let him say that about you?' is what really got you. So of course you had to say something now, taking another breath you smiled at him, putting down your blunt, maybe it's cause you’re high or maybe cause you’re tired of his bullshit but you chose to say something, “c'mon. Let's go chat." Whatever tone you chose to say that really had a ring to it because he was quick to stand following you out to the balcony. Now you're both standing outside and he’s looking at you like you're the one who did something wrong. “What was your point in saying that shitty ass comment?”. Even though you were asking a genuine question, his answer was probably the last thing you wanted to hear.

These past few months with this guy has caused you nothing but stress and frustration. All you felt with him was hatefulness, he always disrespected you and now you were just really at your breaking point with him. Today was the was the last day you were going to let this boy fuck you over. He shrugged, leaning back on the balcony railing, “Can’t joke around?” you scoffed rolling your eyes, and on top of that he had the nerve to smile at you like shit was sweet.

Taking one last breath you open your mouth to say the nastiest insults you can even think about saying whatever it is you were gonna say; There was a knock on the balcony door before it pushed open, Toji whom you could only assume was back from the store stood in the doorway. “Mind if I join?” He slightly nodded at you with a stupid smile on his face, you shrugged looking back at your ‘boyfriend’, “I'm done with this talk, bye.” He stepped up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your forehead, he wasn’t even looking for your sympathy or to apologize. He was looking at Toji, “I’m sorry beautiful,”. 

You didn’t push him off, probably because you’re high, or maybe just tired but it didn’t matter but when his body heat was replaced by the cold air from outside it made you snap back from whatever fantasy world you were in. Toji had taken him by the shoulder pulling him away from you, “She said she was done talkin’ to you.”, you stood there watching as the two of them started to bicker. “Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Soon enough their bickering turned physical, Toji had shoved him against the railing as they threw insults and cursing back and forth as, when the first punch was thrown is when you decided maybe you should do something, “Aye! Aye no! What the fuck?!”. You shout while trying your damnedest to pull them away from each other, looking between the both of them you took extra long to look at Toji noticing blood running down his nose.

“Leave.” shaking your head you look back at your.. Honestly he doesn't matter anymore, so he left with no extra argument, simply claiming that ‘he was over this whole situation’. Once he left you looked back over at Toji, “Your nose bleeding.” He brought his fingers up to his nose wiping it and looking down at it on his fingertips, “I’ll worry ‘bout it later.”. You went silent turning away from him and leaned on the railing, looking out at the street below which was dimly lit, Toji stood next to you staring at you “You ight ma?”, you smile at the old nickname looking over at him and nodding, “I’m fine, I was over him anyway.”. 

It's easy to see that you're fed up . . .

After a few more minutes of silence outside, you ended up asking Toji to take you home, since your original way home was no longer here.. Thankfully he agreed. Sitting in his car was honestly such a forgotten feeling, and surprisingly it wasn’t so awkward, before Toji turned the car on he took a good minute to look at you, “Such a shame..” you looked up from your phone looking over at him slightly confused, “huh?”. He shook his head with a smile, before shaking his head “nun.. Just wondering what he was thinking.”Crossing your arms and leaning back in the seat you smiled to yourself, and as if out of instinct you felt his hand settle on your thigh.

Half-way through what you were hoping to be a simple ride home, your phone buzzes. Picking it up, you read the message on your screen, ‘Yeah so i dont think we can keep dating yur ex is a fucking weirdo n you are too’ did he just.. Break up with you? And over text?? Even saying that you embarrassed him. Not only that but he had the nerve to post a insta story of a screenshot of him texting some bitch that he's finally free.. tagging you. Your loud annoyed groan caught Toji's attention and he glanced over at you, "What happened?". his hand squeezed your thigh softly and you looked up at him in disbelief, "this bitch.. He broke up with me.. and posted some bullshit." You showed him the post as the car came to a stop in front of your apartment building, Toji took a second to scan over the post before looking at you. “He’s fucking weird.”

"It's whatever though,." Toji nods his head as he puts the car in park, "Don’t let them get under your skin." The way he looked at you, you could tell he had some shit on his mind, but you shrugged it off as you put your phone in your purse, "like i said.. It's whatever." You get out of his car, walking to the front entrance to the building hearing his passenger side window roll down, "How about I walk you up." stopping dead in your tracks you look back at him, his greenish eyes having a stupid ass glint in them; You smile rolling your eyes, "Sure whatever come on.". 

You walked into the lobby waiting for Toji as he went around to the parking lot. Once he came inside the building it was like nostalgia all over again with him, His arm wrapped around your shoulder as the two of you walked towards the elevators, “Bringing back old memories?” he looked down at you as the two of you waited for the elevator, you shrugged cocking your head to the side. “I guess you can say that..”. 

When you made it to your apartment, Toji stood behind you watching as you unlocked the door. You weren’t expecting him to come inside so when you opened it you looked back at him “thanks.. Have a good night.” As you’re going to push the door closed, it was stopped by his foot. “No goodnight kiss?” You look up at him, laughing at him for his boldness.

“Sure.”

Shawty you deserve what you been missing. . .

Just as if the floodgates opened up for this man, he pushed open your door with his foot pushing you back to the nearest wall kicking the door closed. His lips interlocking with yours, you whine as his hand wraps around your neck holding your head in place. When he finally decided to pull away, face flushed and breathing heavily, you swallowed heavily “You said a goodnight kiss..”, he let out a breathy laugh shrugging.

“‘ts been awhile, missed this.” His voice was slightly deeper and raspier, the hand that was on your neck moved down to your hip massaging it. “Maybe I want more than a kiss,” Your arms wrapped around his neck tilting your head with a smirk, staring into his eyes as his other hand massaged your ass through the denim fabric. His face was so close to yours you could feel his breath against your lips, “missed this.. missed you”.

“We still friends, you actin’ like you neva see me.” He ignored you, pressing his lips against yours again, this time softer and slower as if he wanted to savor this moment. His tongue licked your bottom lip and he gave your ass a good squeeze; your lips parted slightly giving him a silent ‘yes’, a moan coming from your throat as his tongue explored your mouth. The hand that was on your ass moved lower down your leg picking it up, holding it up against his side.

Pulling away from some air a string of saliva connecting to both of your lips, Toji’s eyes scanned down your body falling onto the cute cheetah print belt you were wearing “Can I?”. You nod looking down watching his one hand make quick work of your belt, pulling it off letting it fall to the floor. Once he took off the belt his fingers fumbling with the button on your jeans, you looked back up at him, his face was completely fixated on what he was doing, dark raven hair falling perfectly around his face, tongue licking his slightly chapped lips.

“Toji..” You purr, his eyes looking up to meet yours, his scar curling as he smiles pushing his hair out of his face, with a low grumble coming from his throat. His hand dropped your legs, both of them sliding underneath the hem of your jeans, pulling them down slowly; once your jeans made it midway down your thighs they fell to your ankles. You kicked the pants away, taking your shoes off with it, his hands massaging your hips as he nuzzled his face into your neck pressing kissing onto your skin. His hands didn’t move from your hips as if he was waiting for some kind of confirmation and when you opened your legs slightly humming as he sucked at sensitive skin on your neck.

Toji’s hand moved down palming your pussy through the fabric, rubbing you in circles slowly as his kisses trailed up to your jaw. You moaned softly gripping onto his shoulders, his fingers hooked onto your panties pushing them to the side, taking his middle finger and sliding it through your folds, paying close attention to your clit. You could feel a knot forming in your lower abdomen, your wetness building up; Toji raised his head staring into your eyes, bringing his fingers up to your lips, “say ahh..”.

You opened your mouth making an ‘ahh’ sound, he hummed pleased, pushing his fingers into your mouth. You sucked on his fingers moaning softly, he watched you his greenish eyes having that same glint to it, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth dropping his saliva coated fingers down to your cunt, prodding his fingers against your aching hole, before pushing a finger into your pussy. You whine back arching off the wall, “Gorgeous,” he mumbled leaning forward kissing and biting on your neck.

Pen game get me laid, baby let’s penetrate oh baby. . .

He groaned feeling one of your hands move down his body, rubbing his obvious growing erection through his jeans. His pace quickened as he added a second finger curling and spreading them in a consistent rhyme, pulling strings of moans from your throat; riding his fingers your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “MmmMm- ‘jiiii-“ Toji bit down on your neck hard once more, pulling a choked moan from you. Before he kissed it, muttering something under his breath, rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb. “Fuckkk- ‘m c-“ you bit your lip arching your back further as you came, Toji didn’t stop letting you ride your high out feeling your slick drip down his fingers and hand.

After you came down from your high your head fell forward, huffing from being out of breath; Toji pulled out his fingers bringing his hand up to his mouth, licking his hand clean, with a playful smile on his face before wiping his hand dry on his pants. You looked up at him, your arms falling to your sides, “ygonna leave now..?” You poked your bottom lip out but he shook his head, “hell no, I ain’t done with you.”.

Toji grabbed your legs with one arm almost throwing you over his shoulder completely, he kicked open your bedroom door dropping you down on the bed. “You still like it with the lights low?”, you shrugged nodding your head. Your eyes followed his body as he walks over to the light switch turning the lights down, looking back at you “strip beautiful,” He quickly undid his belt walking towards you.

You quickly pull off your shirt, going to off your soaked panties. Not even giving you time to fully pull them off, Toji grabbed your hips pulling you towards him. He leaned over throwing one of your legs over his shoulder “Toji-“ your panties dangling on your ankle, he hummed lowly smiling down at you before leaning over and kissing you softly. “‘Missed you, lots.”, He muttered against your lips. You smiled kissing him back, “you see me everyday.”.

“Yeah but that.. guy was in the way.” massaging up your thigh he leaned up looking down at you, let you head fall back looking up at the ceiling, “Don’t mention him. Plus you could’ve had me… if you didn’t break up me.”, he cleared his throat squeezing your thigh and looking away from you.

“You’re right let’s not talk about it..” he grumbled going silent, you looked up at him frowning. “My bad.. ignore it”. He looked back down at you, massaging your hips, you cocked your head raising your brow, “Did I mess up the mood?”.

“Nah..” He smiled shaking his head and leaning back down and kissing you softly as he pulls down his pants and boxers with one hand, groaning against your lips as he gives himself a few strokes; Positioning himself and pushing in slowly your head falls back as your moan in pain ‘n pleasure at the stretch, He stopped for a second looking down at you “He wasn’t fucking you right.” He voice in a cocky tone, you shake your head in obvious denial moaning at the feeling of Toji rubbing circles on your clit to soothe as much of the pain as he could.

“Don’t lie,”, your back arches a whimper spilling past your lips as you shake your head again, “I- I don’t lie..”. He pushes fully into your soaked cunt, letting out a sweet sigh; His thrusts at first were slow and steady, Toji stares down at you, wiping a bit of sweat off your face. “Y’just lied Ma.”.

You hum in response your hips following his, grinding up against him — His hands found a place on your breasts, kneading them and rubbing your nipples between his fingers, you moan grabbing one of his wrists and digging your nails into it. Toji chuckled his other hand leaving your chest and finding the back of your neck making you look up at him, your eyes slightly glossed over. “I almost forgot how beautiful you are.” He kissed you this time sloppier quickening his pace and you moan letting out a slightly louder moan he hummed touching his tongue to yours.

You stare up at him forrowing your brows, “hm- and I for- got how nasty you are.”, he grabbed your jaw keeping your mouth open with a smile, before stuffing two fingers into your mouth. “I’m not that nasty,,” he shrugged beginning to pump his fingers in and out of your mouth, matching his own pace. His eyes watched his fingers against your tongue, your grip on his wrist getting even harder as he squeezed your breast, you groan your breathing becoming heavier as you tried your best to breathe from your nose.

Toji pulled out his fingers groaning as his thrusts began to lose that rhythm, he let go of your breast leaning down his head falling in the crook of your neck. He bit down on the nape of your neck, “where?”, you whine not only at the more erratic thrusts but the position you were in, your leg still on his shoulder now almost fully next to the side of your head.

Clawing at his shoulders you bit down on your bottom lip, “I- in-“, he lost it, his pace quickening before spilling his load into you, but he didn’t stop practically over stimulating himself. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head feeling slightly dizzy before completing seeing white. After helping you ride your high all the way through, he stayed on top of you breathing against your neck.

You swallowed rubbing the scratches on his back, “Toji..?”, he shook his head, humming no.

“Just a moment of silence and for your good ass pussy.”, your snorted smiling, and making yourself as comfortable as possible. “Okay..? We’ll talk..”

“Not now..”

Don’t ..

((ARGGG IM DONE OMG, The end is kinda rushed.. i’m sorry I haven’t written in forever. Xoxo -Val / oh and apologies of its like not fully on vibes with the song, well i think it kinda is,))

𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖮𝖲𝖥𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖸 ⓒ 2024. 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔩, 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔢, 𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔬𝔡𝔦𝔣𝔶 𝔪𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨. 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔠𝔠𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡.

[qtkat]

being childhood friends with the main four would include..

gender: female (she/her)

warnings: none, other than it’s south park

request: no lol

a/n: this is my first time posting my fanfiction, so please be kind with any criticism! x <3

- being one of the only people eric can genuinely get along with

- because let’s be real, if he were to let a girl in his main friend group he’d definitely have to actually like you

- and if even eric likes you, the others definitely love you

- you’re really close with all of them, picking up kenny and karen with your shitty car every morning, slacking off and talking about whatever with stan in first period, rating the day’s school lunch with eric (you both take this very seriously), and letting kyle coach you through your biology homework after school

- you’re really the glue to their broship, because without you there kyle would’ve definitely dropped eric at some point and they would’ve split up the whole group

- but don’t worry, they don’t argue as much as they used to in elementary and middle school

- ironically you all have one period together, ap history with mr. garrison

- it’s definitely your favorite time of the day because you get to see all your favorite people at once

- it’s also definitely not mr. garrison’s favorite time of day, he’s hated you little gremlins since fourth grade (and you can’t really blame him)

- outside of school you try to see them as much as possible

- you definitely see kenny the most, he loves just hanging out at your house so he doesn’t have to be at his own

- he even takes karen with him sometimes, and you love babysitting her together and going out to hang around south park

- if you smoke you guys get blazed together all the time (it’s tegridy weed he steals from stan’s house when he’s there)

- whenever you’re just chilling with your other friends (like bebe or wendy) he comes up to you throughout the day to ask if you want to have a smoke break with him

- if you don’t smoke he definitely tries to blow the smoke away from your face as much as he can

- you’re his trip sitter

- he’s also visited you as mysterion, kind of like how they do in miraculous (if you catch my drift)

- you’ve definitely bragged about being friends with mysterion before, much to eric’s dismay

- speaking of eric’s dismay, he’s the most jealous friend you’ll ever have

- “who took that picture of you” “why aren’t you free this weekend?” “why won’t you go to casa bonita with me” “why do you hang out with that loser anyways” ALL. DAY. LONG.

- he loves hanging out with you alone the most so no one steals your attention away from him

- he likes people knowing you guys are friends since he thinks you’re cool (and honestly he just wants people to think he’s cool too, he cares)

- you don’t call him fatass and he really appreciates it, he doesn’t say it though

- you need to pick up a lot of the love you get from eric like context clues since he doesn’t ever really say it out loud

- also liane LOVES YOU

- she sees you as a good influence on her son

- she’s also the type to try and get you to eat over every time you come over (which i also see sheila doing)

- speaking of sheila she’d definitely invite you to celebrate hanukkah with the broflovskis, it became a yearly thing

- kyle and you are study buddies since he doesn’t want you to fail and stay a class behind

- he gets angry when he gets sad, and you can deal with that really well, you calm him down really easily

- you guys have deep conversations whenever you’re alone together

- you hang together on the roof of your house and watch the sunset while talking about the meaning of life or some shit LMAO

- if you also have textured hair you guys would have joint wash days and it’s so cute

- and 80% of the time you’re with kyle stan is there too

- not that you mind

- if you play and instrument you have definitely written music together with stan

- and even if you don’t you love hearing him play, you’re his number one fan

- jam sessions in his barn >>>

- i feel like i’m one of the only people who isn’t a football stan truther, like he’s literally a little nerd who plays guitar

- he plays warhammer with you if you’re into board games, and you guys get really into it together

- that first period chat i mentioned earlier? yeah definitely filled with your character lore and shit

- stan loves hanging out at your house to get away from his dad, honestly yours and eric’s houses are just the general hang out spots for the gang

- whenever you guys hang out with the five of you it’s mostly video games and chilling with food

- subsections of the group are definitely you/stan/kyle and you/kenny/eric (even though eric doesn’t like sharing you he gets really bad FOMO anytime he’s not there)

- whenever you hang with kenny and eric it’s filled with immature jokes, and probably weed too

- idk i just see kenny getting high 24/7 and i feel like eric would try smoking at least once

- kyle and stan won’t try weed, since stan hates it and kyle promised not to try weed to stan when randy bought tegridy farms

- and because butters is basically a bonus member of the group you’d definitely also be friends with him

- you, kenny and butters make the best trio ever, you guys have so much fun

- butters deserves someone sweet in his life and you two are definitely that to him

- whenever he’s working you and kenny just hang around the whole day in a booth, sometimes kyle comes over too to help you study a bit

- willy chilly’s is a hang out spot too, it seems so nice in the summer

- in conclusion you and the boys have a great friendship, and you have ever since you were young! it’s so cute honestly

[jewbeloved]

How would the guys confess to you on Valentine's Day 💌

Note: This is 3 days late I know, I was on a writers block and I was having a fever and I kept throwing up in the progress while my stomach hurted and I missed a day to go to school on Wednesday to do my test because of that. And now I got a massive headache, everything is just spinning at once I can't take it anymore. 😭

Warnings: Absolutely none.

Characters used: The main boys.

Gender: Neutral

💙 Stan Marsh 💠

Man wants to confess to you on Valentine's Day, he literally be eyeing his calendar and keeping track of the days leading up to Valentine's Day.

But when the day actually comes?

Oh sh!t, he's already in a panic. He doesn't know what to give to you or how to even approach you in general to confess.

He went to Kyle for advice and even practicing his confession for you with him. He knows Valentine's Day can be a really special day for your friends and s/os.

He doesn't want to mess up or make things awkward by vomiting all over you like how he did when he was with Wendy :(

He probably might go with basic presents such as: chocolate, teddy bear, etc.

He will confess to you behind the school just in case his confession goes up in flames and he doesn't want other people to see.

"Uhm, Hi..(Name)...I know it's Valentine's Day and all....and I was just wondering if you wanted to be my valentine...". 💙💙💙💙💙💙

💚 Kyle Broflovski ☘️

Jews aren't supposed to have valentines-

Just kidding.

But seriously though every time this boy has a love interest it always ends up in a complete dumpster fire for him. (Not Cartman being the man cause for it anyways).

You and him have been good friends for a good couple of months and Valentine's Day has finally arrived.

This is his moment to shine and he won't let anyone ruin it for him, not even the fatass-.

He already got a big 4ft sized teddy bear with a heart box that has your favorite candy or sweet inside it. He also got you both matching outfits to wear if you accept his confession.

He probably might want to confess to you in the park near a big tree. (Yeah, classic romance confessions)

Please accept this boy's confession, it will literally make him the happiest jew in south park.

"Hi (Name)! I hope nobody else has confessed to you...or maybe they have. But I just wanted to ask you if you could be my valentine for this holiday".

❤️ Eric Cartman 🔥

Cartman is mysteriously preping for something and not being an ass as his usual routine?

I wonder what's on his mind.........probably you.

He obviously doesn't know what to get you for Valentine's Day and he probably doesn't care so he will just get whatever he feels you might like. He forced his mom to buy the presents though! :3

He probably wants to confess to you because you're the only person besides his mom who puts with his psychotic behavior and rude nature.

And probably because you don't make fun of him for being fat😭

The confession will be in his room because he doesn't want the guys ripping on him for having a soft spot for you.

He will confess in the mostly lazily and cheesy way in the first half before actually being honest with his confession.

"So it's Valentine's Day huh? This makes me feel like I am gay if I was doing this for the guys, but since it's just only you (Name), I don't mind it. As anyone would tell their s/o, will you be my valentine?".

🧡 Kenny Mccormick 🧸

He's poor asf how do you think he can afford even a gift for you?

He feels so sad at the times you give him something and he can't gift you anything in return due to him being the poorest kid in south park.

So instead of buying something, he tries to make a homemade gift for you with whatever he can find (He cleans the material he's using if he finds something useful out of the trash).

Definitely sneaked around alleyways and stole some spare changes from homeless guys so he can use it to at least get you a candy or snack he can afford.

Same as Kyle, he will confess to you in the park while bringing the homemade gifts and snacks he got you.

He wanted this confession to be special like the holiday itself so he took a bath in the river (without soap) and fixed up in his hair a little, not a lot though.

He decided to wear his Princess Kenny outfit afterwards.

"Mmmmm...mmmphmmmmhmmphmmmmmmmmhmmp!" (Im sorry Name...I know this isn't much since I'm poor and I can't gift the same amount you do for me and my family, but it's the least I could to repay my gratitude! Will you be my valentine?).

A new banner for my new south park Masterlist that I will be making soon.

[romaevelizz]

Shh J let it happen˖ ࣪⊹

summary; Haikyuu guys as moments me n my man have had that tickle my brain.

characters; tanaka, hinata , kageyama, tsukishima xblk reader!

warnings: uhh wierd ig, cursing, beating eachother(romanticly),insults(big back,kys), chaos, Hinata(bc he has braces it’s a hc! Relax guys geez), not proofread!

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

TANAKA

☆ Sharing food but your both absolutely starving because y’all both broke. Like he’ll text you ‘bby wanna go get food😝’ And of course you say yes bc who are you to say no to some big back action with your man. Y’all head to a nice little wing place, “oh ight let’s fuck up some boneless get 30 for us to share 15 fo’ yo Fatass and 15 for me gotta keep the gut healthy!” You say with a smile over at him.

This motherfucker looks you dead in the eye “you only get 10, can’t let that big back get to ya already hallin’ enough back there.” He spoke his eyes looking down at your ass his hand GRABBING A HAND FULL.

Your jaw dropped “nigga.” Speechless. IN PUBLIC, HAVE SOME DECENCY LORD. He had a fat smile on his face to. How he gonna low key fat shame you but complement you at the same time.

Him leaning in whispering “your ass, fat.“ He spoke sticking his tongue out at you his hand holding a space indicating it as your butt in a ‘this big’ his hands far apart from echo other. You hand going over your mouth.

Your eyes traveling away for him meeting some ladies with a horrific look and a frown on her face. You couldn’t help your self letting out as muffled laugh quickly turning back to him. Your hand grabbing his bicep, as you fall forward laughing “HELP ME.” You hollered.

HINATA

☆ What’s a couple to do when they’re bored, make out! Why not! It’s fun!

You and him getting as it. It was all cute at first then him not paying attention to where his hand go touching your sides tickling you. You yelping because it fucking tickled, you face smashed against his, both out y’all pulling back your head dropping as you held yourself. Hinata poor baby leaned forward going to kiss the back of you head as an apology him talking into your hair.

His braces get CAUGHT IN YOUR CURLS. YUPPPP that’s the cherry on the mf cake! Now your both panicked, him trying to pull back but your scalp is sensitive rn bc you just took your hair out. And HES PULLING.

“BABY PLEASE WAIT.” You begged.

“IM SORRY!”

Only a few strands came out, to be fair y’all were just being dramatic. Smh.

KAGEYAMA

☆ He hated it when you would wear a nice lip combo with a sitcky gloss. No no no, not because it looked bad but because he couldn’t kiss you. Walking together holding your hand as you walked him to morning practice he was just glaring at you.

Mind you you don’t know what the fuck his attitude if for, “what is your problem.” You scoff stoping in that hall way, pulling your hand back to cross your arms. His expression changing a bit cause how dare you pull your hand from him!

His eyes narrowed “nothing. No problem do YOU? have a problem.” He sassed his hands landing on his hip.

Oh you wanted to pop him in the mouth “Why do you act like this.” You spoke your index finger pointing at him in a dramatic manner.

He scoffed throwing his head to the side “you just hate me that all.”

Oh BROTHERR. “boy, it you don’t-“

“I wanna kiss you but your face is done.”

Face done? OH! “My gloss? Baby I just don’t want you having to walk around with the sticky feeling plus it will leave marks.” Because truthfully you don’t mind fixing it if need be you just don’t want him to go crazy bc his face was sticky.

His eyes met yours “umm okay?”

You grinned his sassiness making you giggle now “then come here,” you said your hands grabbing his face kissing him one the lips.

Pulling back a little “don’t hold out on me women.” He said, alright! You kisses him a few more times then his cheek, your lip combo all over his lips and smudge on the side of his face. He pulled back a prideful smile on his face.

“Ouuu okay baby! I fear you ate this combo better than I do.” You teased.

He walked into practice like that.

TSUKISHIMA

☆ Ahh yes it’s a nice little hang out session peaceful laying together, Kei watching his phone his other hand rubbing small circles into your back. Your face was on his chest as you watched his phone with him.

You back was starting to hurt so you adjusted your self his hand now on your stomach as you faced away from him your head in between his bicep and chest. This fucker, HANDFULL, and I mean a HANDFULL OF YOUR GUT.

“Absolutely not.” You started.

“Shut up.” He responded immediately, his tone flat.

“Kei let go of my fat.” You groan

“Die. I like holding on to it.” Not an ounce of emotion leaving his lips.

“I don’t give a fuck.”

Needless to say he didn’t let go, his large hand kneading your stomach. He was pleased with himself ignoring your dramatic sighs.

So you just laid there dying in silence as he played with your rolls, he loved them, a lot. For not good reason but he genuinely loved them but you(I) HATED, them just being played with sometimes but you gotta just take it sometimes.

Laying there you let your mouth latch on to his bicep. “You leave a hickey im pushing you on the floor.”

“The voices say I have to.” You whispered latching onto him just sucking in his arm.

“I’m gonna lose my mind.”



[umi-adxhira]

ᝰ.ᐟ SERENITY | 000

FANDOM: TWTPTFLOB

WARNINGS: Spoilers for the novel, childhood I made up on the spot um, swearing, falling, panic attack I think

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I was hit with a sudden wave of inspiration. This is basically if my "TWTPTFLOB with Gen Z reader" was real. Kinda a crack fic but idk. The whole thing seems a bit too quick for me. It's been too long since I've written fanfics. Btw the chemistry practical thing did actually happen on Friday lmao

◄ PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ►

"Yo,” you start, bored of the silence between you. Your friend lets out a soft hum, tilting your head towards you as you scroll through your phone absentmindedly “Have you read that manhwa I was telling you about?" your friend doesn’t respond, reaching out to pull your bag slightly to the right, making sure you avoid the pole you were about to walk into. "Thanks,"

"Watch where you're going," she reprimands. She lifts her arm to scratch the back of her neck, probably out of habit. "No, I haven't. I’ve been busy with assignments. So are most of the people in my course. Besides, your exams are next month. You should be revising instead of reading those stupid novels,"

You turn off your phone at the mention as if offended by the off-handed comment your friend made. "How dare you? I never revise. To revise is to doubt one’s potential, after all. Besides, my online friend gave me the link to that manhwa novel I've been telling you about,"

"Roxana?" she scoffs. "I thought the author had a miscarriage and it was put on hiatus. I doubt the manhwa will come back,"

"Hmmm, it was," You hum. "The manhwa is separate from the novel. Like, it was a book, then a cartoon. Not a cartoon! Like a- uuuuhhhh comic? Or a ummmm- something I don't know," you give up, taking a large step forward. You turn your body so you're face to face with your friend, who stops dead in your tracks. The hands on your hips seem like a reminder for your friend, as she rolls her eyes at the eager look on your face.

"Fine," she drags out, "I'll read it," you're about to squeal in excitement before she stops you, "If. You revise,"

"Of course, what friend do you take me for?"

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You sigh to yourself as you sit on your chair, propping your feet on the stool under the desk as you stretch your legs with a dragged-out whine. Your mind randomly wanders to the practical in class you did not too long ago, when your classmate decided to throw a piece of ice across the room, almost hitting you and your Chemistry teacher. The next twenty minutes was a lecture by your deputy headmaster about how you and your classmates are all “almost adults” and they shouldn’t have to expect people of your age to behave like this.

You turn on your laptop before opening your textbook to page 257, a number that was engraved in your head by your Physics teacher the lesson before the ice-throwing incident. You rotate your head around, hearing the cracks of your neck relieve a small knot in you as you mentally prepare yourself for this treacherous journey. Homework.

Health care in the workplace...

PPE...

Slip and fall risks...

Harvard referencing...

I can't do this anymore...

"I can't do this anymore," you whine, letting your head plop down onto the desk with a dramatic thud, the feeling of it weighing a hundred pounds because of how much information you're absorbing. It's like I'm learning this content all over again…

You look over to the workbook next to you, seeing streaks of pastel purple highlighter all over the page. Highlight everything important, she says. How am I supposed to do that when literally everything is important?! You bury your head in your arms, refusing to recall paying the deposit fee for temporary use, meaning you can’t get your money back for damaging the book.

You reach your arm out to the edge of the desk towards your love and saviour. My phone... come here baby. Lifting your fatass off the chair, you lunge across the desk, holding your saviour in your hand.

You turn it on and see a bunch of notifications. Your eyes start to feel heavy as you look through them all. Instagram... WhatsApp... Tiktok... Radish? Oh yeah, the new chapter. I can’t wait to finish this novel. I need to read it again I forgot everything already.

You tapped on the Radish icon, placed your thumbprint on the designated area on your lockscreen and started reading the newest chapter. Your eyes scan through the screen at a tremendous pace. Well, at least to you. A series of internal gasps and ‘oh no he didn’t’s pops up in your mind, as you read the final moments of the chapter.

You place your phone down in a mild shock, hand covering your mouth. A couple of seconds pass of unmoving before you look at your screen again, only to place it down just as abruptly as you did before. Did he just save Roxana? He let his arm get ripped off for her. You laugh internally to yourself. Huh, Sierra was right. He would do anything for her. That must be nice. Weirdly enough, that doesn’t seem out of character for him.

Your hand loses its energy and falls to your lap, as you reminisce about your childhood days. In a huff, you bring your hands to cover your face as you groan into them, remembering the memory of seeing friends come and go, your childhood classmates fighting over not having you on their team in dodgeball. I never was that athletic. And your siblings… my siblings… I wonder how they’re doing now. You debate leaving the Radish app to check your messages, but you choose against it. They never asked how I was doing. I doubt they would even answer if I asked how they were.

You let out a small chuckle, ridding your mind of those memories as you tap on the pink "next chapter" button on the bottom of the screen. Oh yeah, need to wait three more hours.

A sigh escapes your lips as you turn off your laptop, rubbing your eyes. The drowsiness of looking at a screen for so long catching up to you. "A small nap wouldn't hurt, right?" you mutter to no one in particular.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You are falling.

The harsh winds tear at your clothes, whipping past your ears, however, they’re doing nothing to slow the descent with the help of the blurry, thick clouds. You twist your body, peering through your eyelids at the sights of trees.

“Who is that?!” you hear someone yell, having no idea where the loud, yet faraway voice is coming from.

Your heart hammers relentlessly in your chest, tears welling up in your eyes as you can do nothing more but brace for impact, hoping on to the miracle that your body will just magically float in mid-air, but you know the sky does not care for your panic.

You try to scream, yet nothing comes out. It refuses to come out. All you can do is sob onto your knees as you curl yourself up into a ball, praying for someone to save you. I can’t die yet… how can I die without telling them how I feel? I refuse to believe this is my end! “I can’t die now…” you cry to yourself, feeling a sudden shift in your body, with strong hands wrapping around your waist.

“You won’t die now,” the voice that greets you seems cocky, almost as if he’s enjoying your impending death. “You’re lucky I have such a benevolent heart… I expect you to pay me back tenfold,” you refuse to answer the person. After a couple of moments that felt like an eternity, the man sucks his teeth in, pressing two fingers into a pressure point into your neck, making you fall into the unconscious.

[localwhoore]

hey its me again 😁

todays topic is why you freaky ass bitches are into dark! driver shit like Ok babesters !!

people can read what they want but ts is actually fucking weird bro rape kink is crazy 😭

thats weird as fuck like youre into…. being kidnapped…….. and raped??????? have you considered seeing a therapist? and speaking about your issues? and what if the drivers see what youve been writing??? WHAT IF LANDO OR MAX OR WHORVER SEES THAT YOUVE WRITTEN A FIC ABOUT HIM LOCKING YOU UP IN A BIRD CAGE AND VIOLENTLY FUCKING UR “innocent pure pink pussy with his 40 inch schlongus🥺🥺” LIKE BRO HES NOT GNA “breed u so ur stuffed w his fertile seed and stuck w him forever” ??????? WHY ARE YOU WEIIIIRDDDDD

I LITERALLY SAW A FIC WHERE THE READER GOT KIDNAPPED????? AND GOT FUCKING BABYTRAPPED????????????????AND SHE WAS OK WITH IT BECAUSE CHARLES WAS HOT???????? THAT MAKES ZERO SENSE THATS SI FUCKING WEIRD BRO I JS CLOSED THE FIC AND WENT STRAIGHT TO SLEEP BRO LMFGFKAOOO 😭

“ur mine…… and mine only 😈😈😈 grrrrrrr daddys here kitten witten schmookulicious🐺🐺⛓️🖤” be so fucking fr rn if someone said that to u irl TELL ME TO MY FACE u wld not be SPRINTING IN THE OTHER DIRECTION 😭😭😭 AINT NO F1 DRIVER BOUTA SCOOP UR FATASS UP AND SWEEP U AWAY TO THE BED TO REPOPULATE THE EARTH WHILE UR CHAINED UP AND HAVE TO FILM VIDEOS ASKING FOR RANSOM MONEY 💀

almost all the plots are;

reader talks to a rando, driver gets jealous and violently breedfucks reader to “assert dominance”

reader is a hissy brat and driver gets jealous and violently breedfucks reader to “assert dominance”

reader is casually spending time w her friends like a normal person and driver gets jealous and violently breedfucks reader to “assert dominance”

reader gets manipulated into a relationship and then driver violently breedfucks reader to “assert dominance”

driver violently breedfucks reader to “assert dominance” to babytrap so that pookie reader will 🥺never leave themmmmmmm🥺

to end things off,, lets play a drinking game! every time u see a dark fic, check the warnings. if it says somnophilia take a shot. if it says breeding kink take a shot. if it says size kink smut take 2 shots. if it says manipulation, obsession, controlling behaviour, gaslighting, or dubcon take a shot for each that shows up. now u can read the fic. take 5 shots every time a driver growls “youre mine”. take 3 shots for every ooc thing ANYONE does throughout the whole story. take 2 shots if the setting is in a random bar. take a shot if the driver gets jealous somewhere along the entire fic

and what do you get? whats your end result?

𝓪𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓱𝓸𝓵 𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰🕊️🕯️🛁🫧🎀

[woofwof21]

SICK ANNIVERSARIES/CHRIS STURNIOLO

holy shit tumblr moves FAST i literally feel like a godess tysm !! 😽

anyways my tummy huwts so guess what hehe

warnings???: fluff, nicknames ig, use of y/n?

today is you guys' 1 year anniversary and chris had it all planned out.

waking you up with kisses, and strawberries on the bedside table in the morning, just stay in bed together, cuddling till 1pm, baking pizza together in reminders of your first date at that cozy, family run pizza place, taking you out on a nice walk in the park then dinner at a fancy place to spice it up a little and lastly just end the day with a basic horror movie since you both are little scaredy cats that eventually just end up cuddling up close to each other.

but when the plan all goes to shit with you waking up with a throbbing headache the beaming smile spread across chris' cheeks falls in only seconds of hearing that heart melting whimper vibrating through your sleep-puffed lips.

"hey, is something wrong?", he whispers in concern as he places the plate of towered strawberries onto the nightstand to press his palm against your upper forearm and rub his thumb against your shoulder, swayed from left and right.

when you don't reply and just lay there fully still on the mattress with your scrunched up face in pain almost buried into the pillow chris tilts his head, studying your face while he feels his heart breaking for you.

"it's okay! just....just go back to sleep, baby, it's okay!!", he whispers once more before pressing a gentle kiss to your aching temple.

you can't help but let out another whince of pain, your forehead feeling like an abused drum and roll over to bury your head back into your boyfriend's chest.

chris' arm immediately drapes around your shoulders out of simple reflex and he buries his nose into your hair, breathing in your scent to let out a heavy sigh

"im sorry, im so sorry babe..it's okay! im right here, my beautiful, beautiful girl..go back to sleep"

his big hand soothingly rubs the back your right shoulderblade in order to send you back into a (hopefully) healing slumber while he just continues to whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

your eyes slowly squint open, staring up at the white ceiling, your hand reaching out beside you, feeling up the cold, wrinkled up bedsheet where you needed your boyfriend to be.

your groan echoes through his room as the same hand falls onto your forehead, rubbing it in discomfort.

"still not feeling good?"

you slightly jump as chris' caring voice startles your pain fogged brain, causing a soft laugh to slip out of his throat.

he places a bright red mug onto the nightstand, his knees slowly dropping down onto the floor infront of the bed

"heh...sorry ma"

your sleepy eyes follow the dampf float through the air from the mug, not even noticing his warm thumb rubbing circles over your forehead.

"what time is it?", you mumble in a weak, raspy voice once your gaze has finally switched back over to your boyfriend.

"it's like 12....30..ish?", he replies while simply admiring your natural beauty even when your feeling so terrible.

"baby im so sorry you can't enjoy today like you could have. i had everything planned out and ready to go! definitely did not think this was gonna happen....but hey, we can still enjoy today a little hm?"

his caring words make the corners of your lips jerk up into a wide smile once you finally realise what special day it was today.

"oh my god! happy anniversary babe! shit, im SO sorry i messed today up for us!!"

"shhhh.....shut up! don't talk like this is your fault cause it DEFINITELY isn't, got it?"

the stern tone in his yet caring whisper makes your heart melt, your eyes blinking as they fall heavy from the exhaustion of your pain but the smile widens on your lips in love for him.

you feel his hands slide up your sides, under your armpits and lift you up into a sitting position. the mattress damps once he sits his fatass down onto the bedside, besides you.

chris takes the mug in his hand again, holding it up towards your lips while pressing a small pill into your open palm with the other

"drink", he demands with a loving smirk, making you roll my eyes at his drugdealer behaviour, only for your face to scrunch up at the sting in your head that eyeroll caused you

you take the mug in your hands, laying the pill onto your tounge and swallowing it down with the warm black tea with milk, which he knew you favourited over anything.

"you're so beautiful", he blurts out through a heavy sigh along with that adorable smile he could barely hide from you.

chris clears his throat and laughs, trying to try and brush off the words that slipped out of his mouth. your laughter mixing in with his.

already 1 year into the relationship and you guys are still acting like shy teenagers with a little crush.

the pictures match SO WELL at the start my eyes are literally turning into heartshaped waterfalls 😻

aight imma risk it and post at midnight, farewell