#not totally satisfied with how this turned out but fuck it we ball

[ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds]

Too Late I'm Dead

After rushing out from a Jigsaw survivors meeting, you meet another survivor who isn't exactly intent on attending group therapy. A companionship blossoms, and then a friendship. And then, something else.

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 🔞 Fandom: Saw Pairing: Amanda Young x AFAB!Reader Word count: 5.1K Content warnings: Gore, mentions of self-harm (both in the Jigsaw trap context and the more typical context), trauma, PTSD, angst, discussions of disability (since a lot of Jigsaw traps are disabling), Saw is its own warning, smoking, alcohol consumption, flirting, kissing, making out, biting, vaginal fingering, friends to lovers, as is Saw tradition gay shit goes down in the bathroom, reader is AFAB but gender neutral AO3 link: Here

Author's Note: And here’s Blood Fest Week 3, with the keywords “twisted” and “fixation” and the prompts “traps” and “rage”!! “Traps”, of course, got me thinking about Saw. And since I’m down terribly bad for Amanda and have seen appallingly few fics for her…. well, why not? Underrated characters are kind of my signature anyway. Hope y’all enjoy! <3

“Hi everyone. My name is Brandon and…. I’m a Jigsaw survivor.”

A subdued chorus of Hi Brandons echoed around the small church room. You barely even bothered to mouth the words. The gesture felt about as empty as the tipped over plastic water bottle you’d discarded by your chair some time ago. There was coffee at the sad makeshift snack table too, as well as a box of pastries that looked a few days past their prime, but you figured you didn’t need the caffeine to make you any more jittery than you already were. Your leg was bouncing enough as it was.

“It’s been about a year since uh. Well.” Brandon smiled nervously and made a vague, fluttery gesture with his hands. “Well. You know.”

A quiet, obligatory response from the other people – a murmur, a nod of heads. You stared at your bouncing knee.

“I’ve made great progress with my recovery. My knees have healed really well. I can fully walk on them again, even run if I’m careful. My dog Rex doesn’t really like it when I’m careful though.” He laughed fondly. A couple others offered the obligatory chuckle. “They hurt if I get too eager with stairs. Or if it’s too humid. But it’s going really well. I’m really, really proud of the progress I’ve made.” He nodded, as if assuring himself.

He’d had to break both his knees in order to get out of his trap. Was in a wheelchair for months and only recently started moving around without it. Or so you’d been told.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to break your own knees.

“Somedays, though.” Brandon looked away from the loose circle you all formed. Blinked rapidly. “Somedays, it feels like I haven’t made any progress. Somedays it’s hard. Really hard. And it feels like I didn’t survive that trap. Or if I did, some part of me got left behind.”

Everyone else was nodding, some with sad, understanding smiles on their faces. Your own pulse thundered in your ears like a distant, approaching storm.

“It’s really hard to have hope on those days, but…. what else can I do?” He shrugged, a helpless smile on his face. “Give up? Wallow around in my own misery? I can’t live like that. No one can live like that. Not forever. You just have to choose. You have to make a choice, just like the choices we made to be here. You have to choose to live. You have to choose hope. Or else you just can’t survive.”

You shot to your feet, heartbeat pounding in your ears, chair scraping back. Every face in the room turned to look at you. The church felt too small. Your ribs felt too tight. You felt too…. seen.

Who was he to judge you for wallowing in what you’d fucking gone through?

You spun around and bee-lined for the exit.

The cool city air against your face was a relief as you barged through the church’s double doors. But you stopped in your tracks as you spotted someone else already there. A woman was sitting on the church stairs. She twisted around, eyebrows raised and half-hidden by the choppy, irregular bangs across her forehead.

“Uh. Hey,” you said, somewhat awkwardly.

She paused, as if uncertain. Of what? You weren’t sure. “Hey,” she eventually said back. Then, after another pause, she twisted further around, a frown crossing her features. “Is the meeting over?”

“No. I just needed some air.” Fuck, you needed something to calm yourself. You dug around in your jacket pockets until you found a lighter and a cigarette. “Um. Do you mind if I…?”

She stared at the cigarette in your hand with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher, but eventually shook her head no. You internally shrugged and lit up. The first drag uncoiled the tension that had built up in your muscles, and you breathed the smoke out on a relieved sigh.

The woman glanced between you and the church doors. “Having fun in there?”

Did she know? The place didn’t exactly advertise, but it wasn’t exactly a secret either. You scanned her face. She looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place her. Had you seen her in the meetings before? “Oh, yeah, lots. You know. Fun therapy shit.” Supposedly, anyway. It was supposed to be some sort of Alcoholics Anonymous shit, but instead it was for the few survivors of an active fucking serial killer. Jigsaws Anonymous or whatever the fuck.

“Must be going well if you’re out here,” she said dryly, resting her chin on a propped-up fist.

You shrugged, taking another drag. “Well…” Did you really want to tell her about how Brandon’s words had hit just a little too close to home? How they’d made you feel too small, as if the sticks you’d used to prop up your fragile post-trap reconstruction of the world had suddenly snapped, and the weight of it all was now bearing down on you? She was a stranger waiting outside the church. She could’ve been some Jesus freak for all you knew.

Not that she really looked like one. Not with the sheer red shirt over a black bra and fishnet undershirt, or the combat boots, or the sheer exhaustion around her eyes.

She looked less like a Jesus freak and more like you did on the days you could bear to look in the mirror.

So you just shrugged again. “It can be a lot,” you said. “What about you? What’re you doing out here?” You hesitated. “There’re still seats open if you wanted to…”

“No thanks. I’m good.” She offered you a close-lipped smile. “I’ve heard enough of the sob-stories.”

Yeah. You could understand that.

She didn’t look like she was going anywhere, and you didn’t exactly have plans of your own. So you gestured to the stairs next to her. “Mind if I sit?”

“Be my guest.”

You sat to her right so the wind wouldn’t blow cigarette smoke into her face. The smooth grey stone steps were wide enough that it didn’t feel quite so awkward sitting in silence together. Even though you could feel her analyzing you as you took another puff.

You blew the smoke away and smirked dryly at the cigarette. “Think Jigsaw’s gonna put me in another deathtrap for smoking?” You ignored the tightening in your chest as you said the words. Ignored the tremor of unease. Surely it wouldn’t be enough. Surely lightning wouldn’t strike twice.

“He wouldn’t do that.” She said it with such simple certainty, as if it was an inarguable fact. Even still, you found yourself stubbing the cig out and searching for a trash can to toss it into. You didn’t want to just flick it into the grass. Maybe Jigsaw would get you for littering. Maybe he was really passionate about saving the planet.

Who needed to be God-fearing with the possibility of Jigsaw watching your every move?

You shook the thought off. Introduced yourself to the woman. You smiled awkwardly. “Um. I’d offer you my hand but my, uh–” Personal hell “–Trap involved a hand thing so. I’m not a big fan of handshakes these days.” It had taken a long time for the nerves to repair themselves in your hand. A long time and a shitton of agony and medication and physical therapy. You still hadn’t totally gotten rid of the tremor. Fine motorskills were still harder than before.

Before. That.

But the woman just gave a rueful, understanding sort-of smile. Funny how people smiled so much in the presence of trauma and pain. “Amanda. I still have trouble going to the dentist sometimes.”

Shit, that’s where you knew her from, wasn’t it? You’d heard of her, read about her before, seen a clip of her punching a journalist square in the nose when she tried to follow her. All the photos you’d seen had been such shit quality that you hadn’t recognized her immediately.

Amanda Young. The person who killed a man and rummaged around his guts to free herself from the machine hooked into her jaws. The first person to walk away from a Jigsaw trap. The first survivor. In a weird, fucked up way, it was almost like meeting a celebrity. A celebrity for the most depressingly specific thing possible.

You weren’t sure whether it would make things weird to bring that up. So you just nodded. “So. What’re you doing here then? Are you waiting for someone?”

“Mm no, not really.” Amanda scraped at the chipped black polish on her nails. “I just like to come here sometimes.”

You stared at her. Something about her reminded you of a deer, twitchy and ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. Or maybe not a deer. Deer looked like they’d snap in half if the wind blew too hard. Amanda…. did not. She was twitchy, but for some reason you got the feeling that she was just as likely to start kicking as she was to start running

Permanently caught between fight or flight.

You went with freeze, yourself. Or wallow, as Brandon had put it. Anger and embarrassment burned against your ribs.

“Hell of a place to visit.” You weren’t sure if you meant it as a light-hearted joke or a deadpan remark. The words came out somewhere in between.

“You’re one to talk.” She finally turned to you. It was the first time she’d actually met your eyes, you realized. “You actually believe all this bullshit?” she asked, gesturing to the church.

“Not really,” you admitted. “My therapist wanted me to go. Said it would help me to be around others who understand what I went through. That it would help me get closure or something. I didn’t want to. But he insisted.” You shrugged. He’d pestered you about it until you finally gave in a few weeks ago. He thought it would be good for you. Would help you heal. Really, it just made you want to fling yourself out of one of the church’s fancy stained-glass windows.

Amanda gave a derisive snort. You almost took offense until she said, “Half of the time these therapists don’t even know what they’re talking about. It’s a bunch of bullshit, too.” She propped her cheek on her fist again, giving you a side-long grimace. “People don’t change until they have to. Or until they’re forced to. A bunch of psychoanalyzing isn’t going to do anything.”

You…. strongly disagreed. But the slim scar peeking out from her sleeve kept you from saying that. “Bad experience with a therapist?” you asked, flicking your gaze away.

“It never really worked for me.”

“What did?” you asked cautiously.

She paused. Thought about it. Stared at you with an intensity that had you wondering what the hell was going on inside her head. Until eventually, “Jigsaw.”

You blinked. Stared. Tried to figure out how to respond to that.

She thought…. Jigsaw helped?

You didn’t want to judge. Fuck, that was exactly why you’d stormed out of the church. You were self-aware enough to realize that. Different things worked for different people, and different people responded to trauma in different ways, but….

The church doors squealed open. You both shot to your feet and turned around. Your fellow Jigsaw Anonymous members were leaving, the meeting over, spilling out from the doors with all the speed and excitement of molasses being poured out from a jar. You stepped to the side to let them come down the stairs. Amanda did the same, arm brushing yours, and you wrestled the urge to jerk away. You weren’t sure of the last time you’d actually touched someone, or the last time someone had touched you, aside from the gentle but coldly professional hands of doctors and emergency personnel. It was as startlingly foreign as it was familiar.

Amanda seemed completely unaware of your clashing emotions as her gaze locked onto something. You followed her stare to Brandon slowly making his way down the steps. A man with sandy-blond hair and a cane was with him, chatting, the both of them completely oblivious to either of you.

Did she know them? She was staring at them with such an undecipherable intensity and it was the only explanation you could think of. You glanced at the two men again, then back at Amanda. No… she wasn’t staring at them. She was staring at the blond man specifically.

It really wasn’t any of your business, but you couldn’t help but ask, “Do you two know each other?”

“Sorta,” was as much of a response as you got.

Once Brandon and the man reached the bottom of the ramp and went separate ways, Amanda turned back to you. It was just the two of you on the stairs now. And it was a little embarrassing how flustered you were just by her proximity. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even know her.

Maybe your therapist was right. You did need to get out and be around people more. So you could remember how to fucking act normal again.

“Well.” Amanda bumped her arm against yours again. This time deliberately. You were pretty sure the facial expression you made was not a normal one. “See you round.”

Then she shoved her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants, hopped down the steps, and just. Walked away. You stared after her for longer than necessary.

She was impossible to get a read on. Weirdly confrontational, weirdly evasive, and weirdly magnetic anyway.

You kind of hoped you’d see her again.

She didn’t appear for the next few meetings you obligatorily dragged yourself to. It wasn’t until about a month later that you found her sitting out on the steps again. When you, again, had rushed out to clear your head when the room got too small.

“Hey stranger,” she said, tone somewhere close to teasing. It made you smile. Just a little.

“Hey,” you replied, approaching the stairs. And again, you gestured to the space beside her. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest.”

And so you developed a bit of a routine. She appeared on the steps about once a month, for a reason she never shared and that you never really minded. You would sit on the stairs with her, and the two of you would shoot the breeze. It was a comfortable, casual companionship born from a common factor and convenience. It was never anything very deep. Neither of you were there for therapy, not really. You kept it light, casual. That was the point, wasn’t it?

At least until one day when Amanda was standing by the stairs before the meeting had even started. You didn’t bother to hide your surprise as you approached her and exchanged your usual heys.

“You coming in today?” you asked.

“No. I thought we could head somewhere else.” She tilted her head at you. There was a playfulness to her expression, her smile. A playfulness that made you both a little bit cautious and a little bit excited. “Somewhere a little more fun. Unless you want to stay here. For therapy.” She pointedly lifted her eyebrows at you as she said therapy.

You glanced at the church doors behind her. Really, talking to her about anything but the fact that you were both Jigsaw survivors had done a lot more for you than going to these stupid fucking meetings had.

“Only if you promise not to put me in a death game for smoking,” you joked. Or tried to, at least. It really wasn’t that funny. You winced at yourself. But Amanda, to her credit, just linked her arm through yours. You almost preened at the friendly touch.

“Deal,” she said.

She ended up taking you to a bar. A gay bar, more specifically. You were a bit surprised she’d clocked you so easily but never said a word – but then again, neither had you about her. So you supposed you couldn’t be too surprised.

From there, your casual companionship escalated into something much more like a genuine friendship. You got to know each other properly. You talked about your personal lives and hobbies and interests. You even talked a little bit about Jigsaw, and everything after that. You told her how you’d been struggling with insomnia and how you’d lost your job when you stopped showing up. Because of, y’know, being stuck in a deathtrap. And being too terrified to set foot outside your door for a while after. You told her about the new job you’d gotten and struggled to adjust to. And you told her about your hands.

Nails through the palms Jesus-style. Because according to the hoarse voice on the tape that now haunted your nightmares – “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop”. She’d winced as you told her the story one evening. You’d winced as you’d recollected it. The pain shooting through your fingertips, up your arms, into your very fucking bones. The squelch of blood and muscle, the way you hadn’t been able to stop from screaming or the tears from spilling as you twisted and ripped your hands free of the metal spikes.

It was a miracle they didn’t introduced any infections into your bloodstream, the doctors had told you. A miracle.

You told Amanda how your hands still shook, were still a bit weak. How some days they were worse and some days they were better. And how fine motor skills had become hard now, whereas before you’d taken them for granted. God, had you taken them for granted. You’d been able to write your name, use a knife and fork, all that shit, so damn easily.

It had taken a lot of getting used to.

Amanda has just listened and nodded her head. Understanding. Not offering the grating sympathy people so often flung your way, all the while looking uncomfortably unsure of what to do with your presence and your hands and your experience and your trauma. But Amanda understood. Because of course she did. She knew what you’d been through and where you were coming from.

And she’d even smiled a bit mischievously, glancing down at your hands on the bar counter, and said, “Well, if you ever need help with anything, I’m pretty good with my hands. I could always lend a finger or two.”

Maybe it was the little smirk on her face, the glint in her eye when she said it. Maybe it was the loneliness and then the sudden friendship. Or maybe you’d just been a little too buzzed, but her words had remained lodged in your mind as you tried to go to sleep that night.

Amanda had shared things about herself, too, in the time you’d spent together. It had taken a little longer for her to open up – she was a bit slower, a bit more cautious. She seemed a lot more eager to listen than to do the talking. And you couldn’t fault her for that. But eventually, you learned that she worked as a mechanic, knew a lot about fixing and building machines and shit like that. She had a pet guinea pig that she’d acquired entirely by accident. His name was Pigeon. Her favorite color was red, her favorite bands were Nine Inch Nails and Hole, and her favorite movie was The Princess Bride. Her dad was a piece of shit she hadn’t seen in over a decade, and her relationship with her mom was strained at best. She was an only child.

You’d also learned more about her Jigsaw trap. How she’d become a drug addict in prison, how she’d woken up in a Jigsaw trap for it. How the little puppet with swirls on its cheeks had rolled out of the darkness on a tricycle and told her that she’d survived. And how she’d ended up in a trap a second time, a hellish prison of a house with several other people, most of whom had died.

The news had nearly brought your drink back into your throat. Lighting did strike twice after all. He did pick the same victims more than once.

God, maybe you really did need to quit smoking.

Amanda had placed her hand on your arm. Touch gentle but grounding all the same. And she’d assured you that that wouldn’t happen to you, Jigsaw wouldn’t choose you again. He had no reason to. She said it so confidently, and you so desperately wanted to believe her. That you wouldn’t be taken a second time. Or that she wouldn’t be taken a third. Not that she seemed too concerned about it.

That was the strange thing about her. When she told you about what had happened, she stared down at the counter. Her hands shook a little bit. The memory terrified her.

And yet…. she had this fixation on the idea that Jigsaw had helped her. The trap had gotten her off drugs. It had put her on a completely different path in life. Rather than dying from a drug overdose, she’d gotten clean. He saved me, she’d said, eyes wide and earnest and afraid.

You’d fought against the urge to argue that, to say No, he didn’t save you, he almost killed you. The idea of Jigsaw possibly helping – all while you struggled to sleep and were plagued by nightmares as you did, while you struggled to make your handwriting legible, while you fought the urge to bolt back home as soon as the sun started lowering in the sky? The idea felt like swallowing glass.

Had Jigsaw ever made anyone do that?

But you didn’t say any of that to her. People dealt with trauma in different ways. You supposed this was just her way of dealing with it. And it wasn’t really hurting anyone, so who were you to judge?

It certainly didn’t stop you from going to the bar with her regularly. It didn’t stop you from laughing with her, from getting close to her both emotionally and physically till the edge of your seats were almost touching and your arms were practically interlinked.

It didn’t stop the spark of warmth in your chest when she offered a genuine smile. Or the electric feeling that shot through your veins when she traced her fingers over your knuckles one night, after the conversation had lulled and your drinks had gone lukewarm.

“I wanna try something,” she said, voice soft enough that you would’ve missed it had you not been sitting so close your thighs were pressed together.

Eye contact right now would’ve been like staring into the sun. So instead, you stared at her hand on top of yours. Her knuckles were scratched up as if she’d gotten into a fight. “Sure,” you said slowly. “What did you have in mind?”

Amanda turned to you. You cautiously met her gaze. Christ, it really was like looking at the sun. Warm and beautiful but intense. Burningly intense.

Confusion turned to shock as Amanda hooked two fingers into the neck of your shirt and tugged you closer till her lips were hitting yours. You must’ve made a noise of surprise, because she drew away almost immediately. It was all you could do not to chase her and ask why did you stop? A small crease appeared between her eyebrows and she opened her mouth. And God for a second you thought she was going to apologize, when in fact she really didn’t need to because holy shit.

“Oh thank fuck,” you blurted. “You were flirting with me.”

Concern turned to surprise. Then Amanda laughed, the sound pure relief. “Yeah, I was. Did it take you that long to figure it out?” she teased.

“Uh.” Your face warmed. “Maybe.”

She grinned, then grabbed you by the shirt and kissed you again. Gentle but insistent. Her other hand curled around your nape. You didn’t know what the hell to do with your own hands until one curled around her back and the other ended up braced against the bar counter.

The bar counter. Right. You were very much in public. Sure, it was a queer bar, but it was still public.

So you reluctantly pulled away. Amanda looked confused for a moment before you said, “Hey, maybe we should… do this somewhere else?”

She blinked at you. Then, wordlessly, she wrapped a hand around your wrist and pulled you off your seat. She dragged you past the other patrons and tables – it was a quieter night, so you didn’t have to fight through a sea of people – and pushed through one of the bathroom doors, yanking you in with her and locking the door behind you.

“There,” she said. There was a look to her eyes, a look that made your heart stumble and your entire body go warm. “We’re somewhere else.”

This time when she kissed you, you let her fully take the lead. You slid your arms around her and melted into the kiss, sighing against her. It just made her more eager. She prodded at your lips with her tongue, slipped inside with a sweet little moan that had your heart racing. Sent your head spinning. You backed up till you hit a wall, dragging Amanda with because fuck you weren’t breaking this kiss. Not as she was getting to know you with her teeth and her tongue. She tasted like alcohol and peaches, smelled of loam and sweat and faintly of men’s store-brand bodywash. It was heady, intoxicating. Addicting.

Her hands slipped under your shirt. You shuddered at the exposure to the overly air-conditioned bathroom. Shuddered harder at her warm touch roving across your skin, the slight drag of fingernails over your stomach. Amanda broke the kiss with a wet smack as your muscles tensed underneath her.

“You’re so cute,” she teased. She dragged her fingernails over your skin again with just a little more pressure. You arced into her touch. Fuck. Fuck.

You wished you could come up with some kind of response. Something to convey just how much you were aching for her, both emotionally and physically. How badly and how deeply these emotions were running through you. But words were currently beyond your grasp.

Amanda leaned in and nibbled at your neck as her fingers slid past your waistband and teased the edge of your underwear. You clamped your teeth down on your bottom lip. Heat swirled through your veins, in your stomach, at the base of your spine. You moved your hips a little, just a little, to urge her on. Nails dug into the soft flesh there. A whimper escaped.

“Mandyyyyyyy.”

“Yeahhhhhhh?” She was all mischief and smugness as she looked back up at you. It just made you more desperate.

“Mandy. Please?” You gave her your best pleading look.

“You’re so impatient.” She said the words lightly, playfully. But she must’ve been impatient too, because she was pushing your underwear down. When her fingers brushed against your clit, you gasped and dropped your head back against the wall. Fuck, God, yes, right there –

“You sure you only just figured out I was flirting with you? You seem pretty fucking wet already.” She punctuated her words with a slide of her fingers against you. Because yeah, you were fucking wet. It would’ve been a little humiliating if you weren’t so achingly desperate for her touch.

“Yeah, well.” You drew in an unsteady breath as she circled your clit. A teasing touch that wasn’t quite enough. Fuck, it was impossible to form a coherent thought. “You’re just…. really fucking hot.”

It was hardly eloquent. But her breath puffed against your neck in a laugh. And you figured it would do for now.

She kissed the hollow of your throat, firmly rubbed her thumb against your clit. You practically bucked against her. Her other hand hooked under one of your thighs and lifted, and you threw your leg around her waist. Let out a moan at how it changed the sensation. “Yeah, like that,” Amanda breathed. “Just like that.” She said it as if you were touching her, as if she wasn’t the one doing all the work, wasn’t the one making you writhe and whimper and leak over her precise fingers.

Christ, you hadn’t felt this good in a while.

The pace was languorous, exploratory, testing what made you shiver and dig your nails into her shoulders and gasp for breath. As if she was intent on taking you apart and finding out exactly what got you going – a machine to figure out and put back together. Slowly, slowly, but in a way you savored, you felt the tension inside of you building up and coiling tight like a spring. You were quivering. Your clothes clung to your sweat-sheened skin. The music spilling into the bathroom from the bar wasn’t quite enough to cover the ragged breathing and wet, rhythmic noises, and it just made the whole thing feel even dirtier. Especially with how Amanda was panting against you, as if she was getting off just from you getting off and fuck it made you clench.

When she picked up the pace, you weren’t able to stop the gasps and moans that spilled out of you, the way you panted and pleaded her name. The sound of her fingers squelching against you had you burning. And when your release hit you cried out, clenching, shaking, clinging to Amanda’s shoulders and digging your nails in as you rode out the high. She didn’t stop, didn’t relieve the pressure against your clit. White hot pleasure burned through your body till tears pricked at your eyes. Distantly, she said something. Soft, sweet words that didn’t quite reach your ears as they rang from the intensity of your orgasm.

She only stopped when you went limp against her. Only pulled away from the mess you’d made – that she’d made too, really – to wrap her arms around your hips and kiss you, deep and slow, as if trying to commit you to memory. You lazily brushed your tongue against hers. Your muscles felt like taffy, worn out in the best way.

“You were right,” you said when you parted. “You really are good with your hands.”

Amanda grinned so widely and genuinely that you couldn’t stop yourself from capturing her lips again. Fuck. You might’ve been a little bit in love. Or maybe that was the post-sex endorphins talking. You weren’t sure. You didn’t particularly care either way.

“I think I owe you an orgasm,” you said.

Amanda brushed her nose against yours. For the first time since you’d met her, she actually seemed truly, fully relaxed. As if she’d properly lowered her guard just now, just in this moment, just for you. “Maybe next date.” The words sent a flutter through your chest. Next date. There’d be a next date. “But first,” she said, moving away to grab some paper towels, “we gotta get you cleaned up.”

[thebearer]

carmy/reader, carmy gets jealous

“No, you gotta do it like this.”

Carmen turned the corner, seeing in front of you, spoon in hand, flicking a grape off the spoon and catching it in his mouth flawlessly.

“See? All in the wrist flick.” Gary grinned triumphantly, chewing the grape. “You try.”

“There’s no way I’m gonna do this right.” You grinned, shaking your head. “What if it, like, lodges down my throat?”

Gary shrugged, nodding towards the poster on the wall. “I got the choking thing right there. Someone in here might be certified probably. Hopefully.”

“Hopefully,” You repeated, rolling your eyes. “That’s reassuring.” You lined your hand up anyways, letting the spoon bounce off your wrist before the grape flew, hitting your right between your brows.

"Oh my God!" You laughed, rubbing the spot it hit, bending to pick up the grape. "How the fuck-"

Gary laughed, grabbing onto the side of the counter, hand clutching his stomach. "I don't know how you did that, but I would pay my whole month's salary to see that again." He laughed, his laugh infectious, sending you into your own giggles.

Carmen could feel his chest tighten, that familiar rigidness in his spine. A burning fury of a heat that burned so hot it felt icy.

The rational whisper in his head told him this was just two acquaintances being nice, being friendly. Nothing more. Carmen would've been alright with that if it was anyone else. Anyone other than you.

"Yo," Carmen's voice was cutting and mean, made you both jump. "You finish loading the plates?"

"Nah, I was-"

"-Wasting produce? My time?" Carmen sneered, arms crossing over his chest.

Your eyes squinted lightly. Was he flexing right now? "It's my fault, Carm. I was trying to get the grapes and I couldn't reach them."

"So you flung them at each other? The fuck is that?" Carmen huffed.

You glared at him, cheeks flashing in embarrassment. "We were just messin' around, Carmen."

"Yeah, when there's things to do. Go do 'em." Carmen nodded towards Gary, satisfied with his mumbled "yes, chef" when he walked away. "If you're gonna be distracting, then you need to just go in the office."

You flinched in shock, blinking at Carmen. "What- Who are you talking to right now?" You scoffed. "I do not work for you, Carmen, you don't get to talk to me like that."

"Yeah, well you're here in my restaurant, distracting my staff." Carmen retaliated, stomping behind you to the office.

"What is the matter with you?" You hissed, shutting the door behind the two of you. "Richie and I were having a fucking origami napkin folding contest twenty minutes ago but the grapes set you off?" You huff, watching his face for a reaction. Carmen's fist only balled, jaw set and cheeks red.

"If you didn't want me here, then why the fuck did you tell me to come?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"I wanted you here with me." Carmen snapped before he could stop himself.

"I am with you, Carmen. You were busy and told me to get a snack, and that's what I did! I asked Gary-" You paused, catching the slightest tick in his expression, cutting eyes and lips pursing at the mention.

Your brows lifted, no longer furrowed with anger. "Oh?" You quipped, biting back the toothy grin fighting it's way through. "Oh, please, don't tell me you're jealous."

"I am not-"

"-You totally are!" You pointed at him. "Why? Why the fuck would you be jealous? Are you out of your mind?"

"'m not jealous." It was a petulant mumble, arms crossed over his chest and eyes darting around to look anywhere but yours.

"Hmm, I'm not convinced." You giggled lightly, arms wrapping around his torso over his folded arms. "Why are you jealous? Because I'm throwing grapes with Sweeps? C'mon, Carm, what is this fifth grade?"

"It's not funny." Carmen knew you were right, but he wouldn't admit that. His pride was still sore, pouty at the thought that you shared your laugh with someone who isn't him.

"Well, I can promise you, you've got no competition." You hum, straddling his lap on the small couch. "He's a pretty good grape flinger, I'll give him that, but I think you got way better qualities than that, Carmy."

"Yeah?" Carmen muttered, hands relenting to move down your hips. "What?"

You bit back a snicker, smoothing a hand over his curls instead. "Hm, let's see. Maybe the fact that you're sweeter, or cuter, or the fact that you're my boyfriend." Your nose pressed to his gently. "C'mon, Carm, you know I don't want anyone else. You're prefect to me."

Carmen's heart swelled, hoping you couldn't feel the way his cheeks got hot at your words. "Promise?"

"Promise." You muttered, letting your lips glide over his, hands sliding through his hair.

[mochikofi]

Alexis Ness NSFW alphabet

A - Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

He's so clingy after sex. He'll hug you like a koala, never leaving in your side no matter what. Though, he did give you a proper bath and foods that you like after you guys did it so I'd say 10/10.

B - Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and their partner)

His favorite body part of his is his hair. It's not totally a body part but it grows out of his head so.. yeah. His hair became his favorite body part because it's your favorite part of him that you love to touch.

His favorite body part of yours is your boobs. It's his favorite because he thinks that it's satisfying how it bounces and how it's so squishy. in short, your boobs are now his stress balls that he sucks.

C - Cum (anything to do with cum)

He loves cumming on your back. He thinks it's so beautiful having his cum displayed on your back. He would also lick all of the cum displayed on your body, and he would for real DEVOUR your cum if you ask him tbh.

D - Dirty Secret (Self explanatory, a secret of theirs)

He have a whole ass files of you being fucked good or giving him head. He also have tons of video saved in there, he would watch and look at those while pleasuring himself if you're not home.

E - Experience (how experienced are they)

He's honestly experienced even tho his first time was with you. He learned through porn lmao.

F - Favorite position

Missionary. He loves seeing your cute tits bounce up and down while he fucks you hard, to be honest, he actually wants to suck your tits while fucking you hard.

G - Goofy (are they goofy or serious in bed)

He's so serious about giving you pleasure so don't expect some goofy things coming from him. He cares about your pleasure more than himself, he thinks that if he doesn't give you enough pleasure, it means that he's not good enough for you.

H - Hair (how groomed are they)

He's fully groomed because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable and disgusted with his (massive) cock

I - Intimacy (how are they during it)

He's so romantic omfg, he would make you your favorite food, favorite movies and bed being set up, and after that, a little flirty touch and remarks, then he'll have you on the bed.

J - Jack off (do they masturbate)

Yes he does, many times in fact. He always remember your pretty little fucked out face, and that costs him a boner. Though if you're not there to help him, he will use the videos he took.

K - Kink (One of more of their kink)

Hair pulling. again, he loves that you love his hair andhe loves it when you pull his hair out of pleasure. So please, please, please, pull his hair while doing it.

L - Location (favorite places to do it)

His bed and his bed only. He believes that he and his bed can only see and touch your beautiful body, and if you're in a hotel and your feeling horny, you better be prepared and have a bed cover to cover the hotel bed.

M - Motivation (what turns him on)

Remembering your face while being fucked. He just wants to do it again and again until he's tired but we all know he doesn't get tired.

N - No (something he wouldn't do)

Doing something that may cause you discomfort and doing something that can hurt you. He wants you to be pleasured, not hurt and be uncomfortable.

O - Oral (preference in giving or receiving)

He prefers giving more since he wants to taste your pretty little cunt 24/7. If you ask him to give you head all day he would do it no doubt.

P - Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

depends on his mood tbh. If he's feeling horny and angry, he would go fast and rough with you to the point that you need to BEG to make him stop.

If he's feeling a little romantic, he would set up your favorite things to do before having sex with you.

Q - Quickie (their opinions on quickie)

He doesn't like it but he doesn't hate it either. Thought he prefers taking his time while making love to you. Also he thinks that quickies will just make him more horny.

R - Risk (do they take risk)

Yes he take risks. While both if you we're in kaiser's house, he put a vibrator inside your underwear while putting it on max.

S - Stamina (how long can they go?)

he can go up to many rounds. But he doesn't wanna test your limits and overstimulate you so he just do 5-6 rounds.

T - Toy (do they use toys)

Yes he does if he's feeling a little bit risky and feeling jealous. Thought, it's not often he's like that so..

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn't tease much but if he's feeling a little bit bored and if bring a vibrator then.. expect him pulling in the bathroom and putting the vibrator inside your cunt.

V - Volume (how loud are they)

He's not loud because he just wants to hear your beautiful moans. He think it's heavenly.

W - Wild card

He's planning to have a dick piercing so when he fucks you, it'll be 2x good. But he thinks it will make you uncomfortable.

X - X-Ray (how long are they)

He's a good 7 inches. He can make you drool and cum at the same time so he's proud of it. In fact, he brags about it with his other teammates.

Y - Yearning (how much is their sex drive)

High. Again, he thinks about you 24/7 so expect him to be clingy to you while slowly putting his cock inside you.

Z - zzz (how quickly they fall asleep)

Not that quick. He prefers giving you Aftercare, after that, he will be waiting for you to fall asleep, then after that, if you fall asleep then he will fall asleep too. With boobs in his mouth of course.

navigation. - NSFW Alphabet

[stinkfacestories]

The day you found out you had won Jason Kelces Beard Challenge was the best day of your life. The challenge was simple: put together a snap or tiktok video of how to get a beard as good as Jason and the top winner would win a day with Jason. Your video was a long shot: you made a tiktok showing how if you mixed essence of dwarf, with a bit of neanderthal, and just a splash of viking inside Abraham Lincoln's hat and applied it to your face, you'd look as good as Jason. It did t get very many views but Jason loved it. The next thing you knew you were in Philadelphia meeting the man himself at the airport.

The tour of Philadelphia through Jason Kelces eyes was a lot of stops at places he loved to eat. Steak sandwich, sausage, pizza, ice cream. The man just loved to eat. As the day dragged on just as Afternoon turned to evening he took you to Lincoln Field, his home turf. There was no game and the place was locked down, but that was nothing a few signed balls couldn't handle.

He took you to the locker room, the place where he told you he feels most free to be himself. You both sat down on the bench in front of his locker. He took out a case of bud light and cracked one open. The man drank so much bud lite you swore he was sponsored by them.

He told you to be quiet. To just listen to the sound of the room. To drink it in and become one with the soul of real American football.

The only thing you heard was the bench breaking as Kelce leaned forward and let out a fart with a satisfied grunt.

"Oh, sorry," he said, not sounding very sorry.

"Really? " you said. You looked at him, almost appalled that he would do that with you right next to him.

Jason turned and gave you a wink. "Dont tell me you don't find farts funny. Your a guy. All guys love farts." 

You rolled your eyes. "Not really."

"What about this one," he said and let loose a loud bassy fart.

"God stop it, it's so gross," you said as you slid away, but suddenly found yourself pressed against the wall of the locker room. "Seriously dude. What the fuck?"

"C'mon," Jason said as he moved over towards you. “I warned you. Remember when I ate that large sausage with pickled garlic ave said ‘were in trouble later’? What do you think I meant.” and placed a hand on your chest, giving you a bit of a push. "Don't be a prude."

You were caught between a wall, and a wall of beef holding you in place. "Seriously, stop it".

"Can't stop. Won't stop," he said still pressing you in the wall. His eyes were the kind of dull that only cheap low quality beer can make the."You know I bet you never had an older brother. Between me, my dad and Travis we learned to appreciate farts. My dad told me that the best cure is exposure. So to get you up to speed I think I need to gas you more"

He  pressed into you and lifted up his keg and let loose with a fart so powerful it echied through the empty locker room.. You struggled to get away from the horrible stench, but couldn't escape.

"No, don't do this," you said as it overwhelmed you.

He turned around and pressed his huge soft center lineman ass in your face, the soft fabric of his shorts spreading across your face like warm dough. It was too much, and you were powerless to stop it. His asshole flexed and relaxed as it sent out a long drawn out series of wet sounding farts. You gagged as the air around you filled with the horrid odor.

"Fuck that was a good one," he said, not budging an inch. “Three point stance just rips these farts out of me.”

"I think I'm going to puke," you said, trying not to vomit.

"If your gonna puke, aim that way, I like these shorts." he said pointing. "Do you think it's funny yet?"

"No!" You coughed.

"Alright you asked for it" he presses his ass harder, wedging your nose on his cheeks. He let loose with a rapid fire volley of farts that left you breathless and coughing. He backed away, chuckling at you.

"God, fuck, that's rank!" You coughed. You tried to breathe fresh air but the locker room had been total polluted by Kelces ass.

"Come on. You don't have to love them, but you gotta at least admit they are funny and manly now. How can you like football and not think farts are funny." he let you stew and come up with an answer.

"Fuck...no," you say.

He shrugged. "Ok. Your loss," he said and pressed his ass in your face again.

"No! Please. God. No. Fuck!"

"What's it going to take? Do I need to pull my shorts down and give you a bare ass stinkface?" He said, pressing even harder.

"No! No more. Fine. They're fucking funny," you cried.

"What?" He said. "I couldn't hear you"

"They're funny!"

"Now are you just saying that to make me stop?"

"No, I mean it. They are funny and they are manly."

"Well, if it's funny you won't have a problem asking me to do it a few more times so you can properly laugh. Right?"

"Uh...fine. Sure. Just, please, no more, I can't take it."

He turned and farted once. "Laugh. Laugh hard and long and deep." He was getting frustrated that you weren't laughing. "Seriously come on guy. This is just as bad for me as it is for you. It's hard to hold this position and if I keep farting I'm going to have to take a dump soon"

"Oh god no!"

"Laugh dammit!" He yelled.

"No, no, I can't."

"Fine then," he said. He pulled you down and set you face up on the bench. He loomed over you. "Ok big fucking guns time" he pulled down his shorts and hovered his raw hairy bear ass over your face.

"Oh shit, dude please don't!" His as was a beast. This close you could make out the rough skin. His ass had taken a pounding over the years and looked like a hefty bag overfilled with cottage cheese. The hair on his crack was dense and black. 

"Do you think this is funny?"

"Yes, yes, fuck, yes!" You were sobbing, your body convulsing.

“Good. Then you'll find this hilarious.” he sat down. He sat down hard. He rocked back and forth, the wiry hair of his ass crack scouring your face. He dug deep like he has an itch he was trying to scratch.

"Laugh. C'mon. Laugh, laugh like a big boy." He said, simultaneously belching and farting.

"Ahahaha!" You started crying and laughing.

"Oh fuck. What a fucking cry baby. Laughing at farts is supposed to be funny. Not sad."

"I'm sorry," you sobbed.

"Just...fucking stop," he said, standing and pulling up his shorts as he got off you. "Baby can't handle a grown man's ass. Jesus fuck"

He sat down next to you. You were still shaking a little, tears coming from your eyes. "I'm sorry," you said.

"It's fine, it's not the first time I've gassed someone like that," he said. "your not the only one who cried either "

You sniffed, still wiping tears away. "It was just so...overwhelming. The smell, and the sound, and the pressure..."

"It was a lot. It was," he said.

He drained his bud light and crushed the can. "Ok second chance to get it right." He leaves forward and farted, then looked to you to see your reaction.

You laughed. A genuine laugh. "Fuck, dude."

He smiled and farted again. You kept laughing. "It's funny, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It is," you said, laughing some more.

"Now you" he said 

You panicked. You didn't have to fart. You were to nervous.

"What the hell. Do it"

"I don't know if I can," you said.

"Come on. Do it. Do it" he chanted.

"I can't."

"You trying to make me mad? You're a guy. You should always be ready to let rip"

"But I'm not drunk like you are. And I'm not a fucking monster with an ass like yours."

"Fine, then, let's fix that." He reached down and ripped a huge one. He reached for his phone and placed a call "Trav. Yeah we got an emergency. Yeah get that chili defrosted and get some real cheap beer. Ooooh and some gas station food. Yeah he's a wimp. Didn't laugh. No he did. Fuck no she can't come to.  Alright. Love you. No homo" he hung up the phone.

"Your brother's coming over?"

"Yup. And he's gonna be pissed if you don't laugh when he cuts one. He loves farts. And he's got an ass that could kill a guy."

"Wait..."

"We're going to our man cave. It's a cabin in the woods. Just guys. Strict no pants policy. You better hope Trav remembered his boxers. You are gonna learn to love being a man like us and become the third Kelce brother, or you ain't leaving that shack."

"What's it going to be like," you said, afraid, but also excited.

"Oh, you're gonna hate every minute, and you're gonna love every minute."

"Fuck. I'm going to get wrecked, aren't I?"

"Oh definitely. We will probably fuck up your head so much. You're going to end up with a fetish for this."

You laughed.

All you could do was laugh.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #51 — Ten Has Done So Much for All of You, and for What? You Don't Deserve Him.

So, obviously, last issue ended rather poorly for Team Rodimus and Pals. It doesn’t look like the start of this one going much better, as a mass of baddies bombard the late Necrobot’s “Fortress”. Whirl, being Whirl, wants to go out and face his certain death head-on. Everyone else is more than fine to wait for death to come to them.

Rewind, showing off the skills he’s picked up as a videographer over the last several thousand years, gets the security cameras up. I’m assuming that Censere had these installed to keep an eye out for bored space teens who might have wanted to graffiti his millions of plinths. Too bad it didn’t save him, or his property, as outside, Tarn is shooting the ground with his twin fusion cannons. He’s having to hold his arm in place with his other hand, as I’m sure the kickback of firing two lasers at once must be something fierce. He finishes and commands his troops to cease firing, everyone withdrawing.

The Lost Lost Lighters are super jazzed about this, Brainstorm stating that they must have heard about Tailgate’s Power Punch, an attack with a name so banal, it surely must kill anyone who faces it, if only so they don’t talk shit about it after the fact.

Megatron, however, knows what Tarn’s pulling, as he’s a theatre kid, and everyone knows that the really intense theatre kids follow their scripts to a T, and will murder you for trying to ad lib like some filthy fucking improv performer.

By doing this, he’s honoring Shakespeare.

Swerve has begun to bawl like a baby over how bad the situation has gotten, likely recalling all the awful shit he witnessed the last time he crossed paths with the DJD. Magnus, who still has his arm off, because Velocity is all about uplifting her fellow women, demands that they try to call for assistance, then apologizes for swearing, even though he’s absolutely at the very least said “damn” in the past. Maybe he’s confusing the total inability to curse with the IDW publication law that you’re not allowed to say “bitch” until your series has been truncated by 50%. Or maybe he only allows himself to swear in the presence of poor snack management. Anyway, it’s not like it matters— Megatron’s just informed everyone that Tarn also likes to cut the phone lines in situations like this.

All of this, because you wanted middle management for your faction.

Because Megatron never baked any sort of loophole into the DJD’s way of handling shit, because how the fuck could he have possibly known he’d one day have to denounce his entire reason for existing to satisfy the commercial whims of Hasbro, the gang is going to have to figure out some way to defend themselves or escape in the next eight hours. Rodimus orders everyone to split up and look for clues, blowing off Ten in the process.

Velocity calls Swerve, the closest thing to a doctor besides her, to come look at the Necrobot’s corpse, which appears to have turned into a pile of ash. Swerve informs her that this is what happens when someone who’s old as balls kicks it. Now, it may concern you that Velocity, who was the only doctor for a ship of over 200 until this morning, doesn’t know what a dead old man looks like. However, we must recall that age-related spark burnout hasn’t been a thing until very recently for Cybertronians, and Caminus, the colony Velocity is from, is marginally younger as a society. It probably just hasn’t happened in her circles yet.

Velocity and Swerve play around in the pile of old man dust, until she pulls a key out, with “1/001” written on it. Her search party will be focusing on finding what this key goes to, as it was surely important, given that it was on Censere’s person at the time of his death.

Over on the DJD’s ship, The Peaceful Tyranny, Deathsaurus stares at the corpses Tarn’s nailed to the wall of his room. The nails have Decepticon insignias on the heads, because of course they do. These are the same corpses Tarn had on the wall of his office in Grindcore. Tarn asks if Deathsaurus is impressed with his first editions, and when Deathsaurus is understandably bewildered by this question, Tarn explains that these are corpses that were sent home after dying in the mines of Messatine, who had Megatron’s writing etched into their organs by Terminus, so that said writing would reach the outside world. Tarn thinks it’s pretty fucking cool, but Deathsaurus is, again, bewildered by this interior design choice. In general, Deathsaurus is bewildered by a vast majority of the ways Tarn chooses to live his life.

Tarn, opening the mouth section of his mask to drink a shot’s worth of energon, likely totally unable to see as he does so, since the eye holes don’t line up anymore, says that if Deathsaurus was a true intellectual like Tarn was, he’d understand that trying to chase down a ship with quantum jump capabilities is really difficult when you no longer have a sneaky little double agent to give you exact coordinates, so grounding their targets was the best option. No word on how Tarn feels about the ship he super-nightmare-death-murdered being perfectly fine now.

Deathsaurus really just wants to know why they backed off after having their targets cornered, because he hates Tarn and his stupid little games, having been working with him for at least a couple months by this point. Tarn, however, has the audacity to be smug about how all the Autobots are probably tearing each other apart out of fear, as the sun makes its way across the sky.

Back with Velocity’s search party, Nautica’s joined the one-and-a-half doctors in the Key Quest. Velocity asks Swerve about why Ten came down with the rest of the group, and in Swerve’s defense, it’s not like anyone knew this was a murder trip until after they’d arrived. When the brain attack happened last issue, Swerve hadn’t disclosed what exactly he’d heard— now, however, he admits that he’d gotten an earful from Ten about the Ambus Test, and how just because he’s made up of the corpses of multiple religious hermits doesn’t mean he isn’t a person too, and also once that union gets going, he’s gonna sic lawyer-mode Magnus on him.

Anyway, they found the door that key went to.

Back with Rodimus in the main room, he’s collecting the notes of all the other search teams. Rung’s face has been shaded to look like he got lip fillers. Rodimus isn’t pleased, but it isn’t because of Rung’s gotten work done.

Nightbeat, however, DOES have good news to pair off with the bad. News so good he starts using metaphors, which confuses and frightens Magnus. Nightbeat has found the quantum travel device the Necrobot used to travel to the deaths he recorded, and what do you know? It’s got just enough juice to get everyone out of dodge and into the loving embrace of safety. Hooray! Time to form an orderly queue, going from most to least obnoxious paint job.

Then Team Killjoy shows up, Velocity and Nautica letting everyone know what’s behind door #1: it’s a bunch of organics in stasis.

I will say, the inverse of Transformers fans collecting robot toys mint in package is decidedly more disturbing.

Whirl isn’t horribly keen to die over a bunch of squishy nobodies. Nautica states that the organics are vulnerable and need protection. Skids, really wanting to be in that straight-passing relationship, agrees that the DJD will totally kill these guys, because they learned their technoism from SOMEONE MEGATRON. Chromedome, who has had his husband back for maybe six months at this point, really doesn’t want to stick around for the sun to set. Cyclonus asks just why the fuck there’s a bunch of dudes in the basement. Tailgate wonders if it really matters, considering the situation at hand. Magnus, needing direction in his life, makes sure that Rodimus hasn’t decided to take a nap standing up like a horse. Brainstorm, who has been oh-so-subtly trying to edge the door to the quantum tube shut, makes the point that they could do a lot of good after the fact, if they left now and then vowed to protect a slew of organics afterwards, which would eventually even out their sins, probably.

Rodimus feels pretty good about this proposal, but he loves looking like the most appealing, middle-of-the-road choice, and says that they have some time to talk this out. However, we’ve forgotten that we’re riding with Mr. Ex-Peace Through Tyranny, who does nothing in half-measures and loves to be contrarian to Rodimus at every given opportunity.

This turn of events is such a shock to Rodimus, he shouts at Ten for trying to show him something. Poor Ten.

Rodimus reminds Megatron just what exactly they’re up against and what he’s signing himself up for and for what variety of living creature, but Megatron is aware of all of these things. Looks like the talking to Skids gave him on the duplicate Lost Light finally sank through his thick skull, and he’s ready to be a big boy about this whole Autobot thing. He then informs everyone that he’s not doing this to make a point, and that anyone who wants to dip is welcome to do so, as long as they’re doing it for themselves.

Of course, it’ll be a cold day in hell before any Autobot lets Megatron out-Autobot them, and it’ll be an even colder day before Cyclonus leaves his not-boyfriend alone on Murder Planet. Oh, and the fact that organic life is just as valuable as mechanical. Totally. Everyone defaults to stay, Rodimus closing the door to the quantum tube.

Swerve then offers a real heel-clicker of an alternate escape plan: what if… we just stole the DJD’s ship, stuffed it full of the organics, and flew away before anyone noticed? Now, this is, of course, an immaculate plan, which no man could ever find fault in, but Whirl is not a man, but rather a machine, and does question where exactly they’d be getting the keys to such a ship. Cyclonus is trying to be a bit more of a supportive friend to Swerve, since the last time the guy felt left out, they all had to project their consciousnesses 400 miles out and pay NYC rent, asks if there is more to this perfect, perfect plan, crafted in one of the finest minds of any generation.

There is not.

So, we’re gonna steal a ship.

Ravage offers to track the smell of unwashed bachelors and Megatron body pillows to see where the DJD parked. Rodimus gives him his blessing, marveling at the skillset at his disposal, as Magnus makes a fucking wild face of incredulousness and Ten sulks in the corner.

Before he runs off, Ravage brings Megatron a phone and asks that he talk to Tarn, because surely if anyone can get him off the warpath, it would be his old boss.

Back at the Peaceful Tyranny, Tarn, Deathsaurus, Nickel, Tesarus, and Vos are going over the plan for the day. Sure hope Deathsaurus can parse Primal Vernacular. Tesarus reminds Tarn of the time they went after Heretech and he turned a storm shield into a forcefield that held them off for days, but this band of Autobot nerds aren’t Heretech, now are they? Even if they do have an ex-Wrecker, a Skids, and the power of love on their side.

Then Tarn tells everyone to shut the fuck up, because he’s getting a call on his electric razor.

Back at the “Fortress”, Megatron stands astride the space scooter, looking horribly depressed, as he prepares to have a little chat with his most murderous fanboy. Rodimus questions this decision, having clocked that even on his best day, Megatron wouldn’t just whole-heartedly decide to effectively kill himself for the sake of 50-60 organics he doesn’t even know.

Of course, we’ve seen that at least one planet in the Magisterian system still has life, as the Scavengers had to use holomatter avatars at some point, as seen in issue #45. Perhaps if Megatron knew about this, he wouldn’t be so keen to go on a suicide mission.

Over with Ravage, he passes by Skids’s plinth, which I’m sure isn’t an omen of any kind, and discovers that the smell of B.O. and hot pockets he was following wasn’t attached to the Peaceful Tyranny, but rather a base the DJD and Deathsaurus’s boys threw together. Also, Ten’s been crawling after him in an attempt to keep hidden this whole time, over what was likely multiple miles. He didn’t do a good job in the slightest, but points for tenacity, buddy. Ravage understands that Ten’s just trying to help in some form or fashion, so Ravage gives him a special job: bullet sponge.

Deathsaurus’s men, Helex, Kaon, and the Pet all see Ten up on the hill. Kaon in particular looks very excited at the promise of a plaything, so much so that he lets his rabid little chihuahua off-leash.

Meanwhile, Megatron races across his personal field of spark flowers, on his way to rendezvous at his plinth with Tarn. I wonder who suggested this meeting spot? When Megatron arrives, he demands that Tarn at least face him with his, well, face, but Tarn says that his mask IS his face, even though we know it isn’t, because Tarn couldn’t commit to the bit hard enough on this particular front for some reason.

Megatron offers himself up for surrender. But enough about his crisis of morality, let’s get back to Ten.

Ten, former Legislator that he is, fights valiantly, throwing four guys in the air at once, even as the Pet scratches his collar bone and Helex punches him in the head, his face telling me that he’s gonna do horny mouth shit with Ten’s brain if he manages to get ahold of it. Kaon’s in the background, shooting electricity into the sky. I think he’s just happy to be here. This nonsense up on the hill allows Ravage to sneak over to the base to check for a ship that DOESN’T smell like wine, jockstraps, and viscera.

Back with the Autobots, someone finally remembers that Ten’s a person, and asks where the hell he’s gotten to. Magnus isn’t sure, though he knows where he HAD been. I expect better from you, Magnus. Ten is your little buddy! Your brother in artistic arms! He even left something for your enjoyment, while he went out to help Ravage!

After having solved the issue of their defense system, Ten went out and got his ass shredded for multiple pages, where he was repeatedly shot and set on fire and torn limb from limb and electrocuted (I guess someone finally pointed Kaon in the right direction). It seems like the end for Ten, but his assailants are suddenly shot and dealt with, blanketing the hill in silence.

Silent enough to hear the equivalent of twenty USD in Australian dollaridoos, having been converted into English pounds, rustling around in a British guy’s wallet.

[v3nusxsky]

prompt ^ i hope you like it

Use me 18+

*Authors note~ this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now but here we go*

Trigger warnings~ mommy kink angry sex (using for pleasure🤤) dirty talk, praise degrading shifted dick dom Larissa sub r cum kink if you squint facial face fucking slight anal?

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Wednesday Addams had a lot to answer for these days, and stressing your wife out was one of them.  You knew today was a particularly bad day for Larissa, having to deal with Rowans family and the Sheriff plus the board. You instantly came up with an idea to hopefully soothe some of her stress.

Your classes finished earlier than normal so you headed back to the room to adorn one of your more revealing outfits that drove Larissa absolutely insane. Once you were satisfied with your appearance you made your way her office where she would undoubtedly be slaving away behind her laptop.

You were right, so much so your wife didn't even realise you had slipped into her office and laid yourself on her sofa. You found it amusing for a few minutes before you murmured "Hi Rissa" which caused your wife to briefly smile in your direction before an email pinged to her laptop, the frustration from the day returning from the day. Before she even realised she was ranting about the stupid email from the board doubting her ability to lead Nevermore. The cheek of it. Did they not know what she had done for the Academy?

You couldn't help but be drawn how she moved her hands and fingers to exaggerate her point. Truly, she wasn't even aware she was doing it. But you couldn't help but be turned on, the things those hands have done, the highs they have brought you too. The mere sight of them causing your core to throb with need. Keeping your eyes trained on your wife, you managed to slip out of your underwear, having to stifle a gasp as the cool air hit your centre.

Larissa had no clue what you were doing, she continued to rant about the stress she was under and how unappreciated she felt which caused a sinful idea to pop into your mind. You stood up and approached your still clueless and ranting wife. You guided her flapping hand to hold your waist looking up at her with an intense look, nodding along to what she was saying. Admittedly, you had no clue what you were nodding for you just knew you wanted to destress your wife. She didn't deserve to be treated in such a manner. By moving her hand she stole a glance of your outfit which instantly had her mouth go dry. You're too damn sexy for your own good and she'd totally be having appropriate thoughts of you when she was calmer.

You caught her eyes devouring your outfit which caused you to guide her hand under your skirt and to your ass cheeks. You knew she'd feel the flesh instead of panties which of course Larissa did. Nothing would get past her. You stood on your tip toes and whispered, "Use me mommy, take all that anger out on me, use me and fuck me hard so you forget all the stress. I'm your personal stress ball mommy!"  Her slender fingers grabbed handfuls of your ass as she hoisted you up to her waist, your legs instantly locking around her hips. "Oh you filthy little slut" she purred into your neck before kissing, sucking and nipping at the smooth sensitive skin there.

You some how ended up in your bedroom, do you remember how? No. But you do remember how dizzying it was to have her lips marking up your neck, claiming you as hers. Larissa wasted no time in shredding your clothing, promising to replace it as she tore her own clothing off to revel a happy accident. "Mommy?" You whimpered upon seeing her impressive length. "Darling see how badly I need you I lost control of my ability I need you that bad. See how hard you make me?" Her teasing was turning you on more, to know you caused it.

"Dirty girl for mommy, how bout you get on your knees and put that whorish mouth to some use?" You knew the question was rhetorical but you happily got onto your knees and licked your lips in anticipation for her to finally be in your mouth. Teasing her slightly, you licked the underside of her impressive cock. You took the bulbous head into your mouths which caused a pleased moan to tumble from the older woman, "fuck take it all you whore."

You did just that, not that she gave you much of a choice, instantly began to thrust her entire length down your tight throat, "good girl, fucking slut for mommy. That's right keep gagging on my dick like a good little cock slut for your mommy." The praised mixed in with the degrading words was causing slick to drip down your thighs, normally Larissa was a gentle lover but tonight, she was not holding back, using you how she deemed fit. You were nothing but holes for her to use and abuse.

Her brutal pace mixed with her moans and your gagging was throwing her face first toward the edge of bliss and she wasn't going to stop till she got it. But you thought she'd give you your salty treat for all your effort but no. She was about ready to burst when she slipped from your warm wet hole and began to jerk herself off, "tongue slut" was your only instruction. Doing as your told Larissa came all over you tongue and face. Her cum dripping down your face as you smiled happily, "thank you mommy."

"You're such a good little fuck toy for mommy, letting me use you how I desire, now on all fours darling" she demanded and you followed instantly only to be filled with her semi hard dick. A few smacks to your ass which allowed her to see the jiggle she caused with each smack, her cock soon began to harden within your walls. "Oh mommy fuck you're so big" you mewled finally feeling her ready to move within you.

Once again her pace was brutal, she really was fucking away her anger and frustration on you. You had no complaints, it was extremely pleasurable and you couldn't help but beg for more harder, faster , deeper just more of her cock. Soon all that filled the bedroom was your joint moans and the sound of skin slapping on skin. You couldn't help but gasp when you felt her finger teasing as your back hole. Not enough to do much but enough to stimulate it slightly. "Do you like it when mommy stimulates your asshole baby?" You couldn't find the words to answer her right now. This wasn't something you ever thought you'd enjoy but now, with her dick deep inside of you while her index finger teased the puckered hole you we're questioning it. A harsh smack to your arse cheek had confrontation tumbling from your lips, "yes! Mommy yes I did!"

Feeling Larissa Weems cumming into your awaiting cunt was something like nothing else you'd ever felt before, and that's what caused you to cum with a cry. Your orgasm seeming to have a newfound strength as you screamed for her. Only when you were whimpering no more and trying to squirm away did Larissa let up her abuse on your body, "you did so well for me darlin, so so well thank you for helping mommy feel so so good" her praise mixed with your sleepiness had you falling into a sex induced slumber, Larissa cleaned up before following suit. The stress of her stressful day finally depleted thanks to her lovely generous wife.

Word count~ 1590

[manygeese]

@lost-trio-week Lost Trio Week Day 1: Nicknames

Before we get into this, let’s get this straight: teens who are friends, in my experience, come up with the stupidest nicknames for each other. A friend of mine calls me, a girl whose real name is rather feminine, Steve. Also taken to calling me Crazy Steve lately. There’s also Luigi, nerd alert, etc. etc. I have many a nickname and a grand total of zero make sense. Okay, on with the fic!

~*~

“Okay, you are not supposed to serve it that hard,” Leo huffed after an embarrassing attempt to hit the volleyball that was flying way too high over his head.

It was a late summer afternoon, and Piper had insisted that Leo and Jason go with her to the park and help her practice for volleyball tryouts. Unfortunately, Jason had broken his ankle falling out of a tree (thank you, vengeful venti, that was a great surprise) and Leo was in no way a volleyball champ. Piper found herself surprisingly frustrated. If she didn’t get on the team, she was going to freak the fuck out. Literally all of the cute girls, cough cough Reyna Ramírez-Arellano cough cough, were on the team and she would be seriously missing out.

“Sorry that you’re too much of a shorty to get the fucking ball, dude,” Piper retorted, sticking out her tongue and giving him a raspberry. “Seriously, you need to actually go for it, bro. Get some air next time.”

“You turn into a different person whenever we play volleyball. Like you’re a frat boy. It’s all ‘get the fucking ball, dude’ or ‘go for it, bro’.”

Piper huffed as she carried the ball back to the green space where they were playing. “Shut up.”

“You become Chad whenever we play volleyball.”

“I do not ‘become Chad’ whenever we play volleyball!”

“Yes, you do.”

“Jason, tell him that I don’t become Chad whenever we play volleyball,” Piper whined, looking over to where Jason was situated in a neon green Adirondack chair.

“Leo, Piper doesn’t become Chad whenever you play volleyball,” he echoed absentmindedly, not looking up from his book. His head shot up like a pointing Spaniel when he realized what he’d said. “Wait, what? Become Chad?”

“Let me show you!” Leo clapped his eager hands together in quick succession. “C’mon, Piper, serve me the ball.”

She sighed and shot the ball over to him. He moved to the side and hit it back. They volleyed the ball three more times before it sailed over Leo’s head, making it pretty much impossible for him to do anything but sigh and retrieve it. Wait, did it land in a tree? Amazing. Lovely. What an awesome day.

“Oh, come the fuck on, man! You totally could’ve gotten that shit!” Piper complained.

Jason looked towards her with growing fear. “You do become Chad whenever you play volleyball.”

Leo had an annoyingly satisfied grin on his annoyingly smug face. Piper could see it, even if he was ten feet up in a tree. “I told you, Chad,” he called, chucking the ball at her once he had gotten it.

She caught it with ease. “I would not be a Chad if I was a frat boy.” Piper, knowing that she had lost on one front, moved to another. “I would be… Michael.”

“Michael is not a frat boy. Michael is a nerd,” Leo insisted. He tumbled down a few branches. Piper grimaced in sympathy.

“Now, if you called him Mike,” Jason pointed out.

Piper made a face, like she was taking a big bite of the world’s sourest gummy bear and washing it down with spoiled milk. “Ew, nevermind, I wouldn’t be a Mike.”

“What about Ryan?” Jason offered.

“Never in this life or the next would I let myself be called Ryan. I would sooner implode.”

Jason shook his head. “See, now you’re acting like Michael.”

Leo shook the sticks and leaves out of his hair once he was back on solid ground and squinted at her scrutinizingly. “Ethan,” he decided.

“Oh my Gods, you are Ethan,” Jason agreed.

“Y’know what? I am an Ethan. I can accept that.”

“If I ever develop demigod safe phones, your name in mine is gonna be Ethan,” Leo concluded.

~*~

Months later, over Christmas break, Piper, Jason and the rest of the seven received rough drafts of what were supposed to be demigod safe phones. Leo had bragged and bragged about the job he and his siblings had managed to do, but Jason didn’t quite see the appeal.

“Leo, how do I work this thing?” Jason asked, staring intensely into the screen. “It’s so… small.”

“Are you wearing your glasses?” Piper asked from where she sat on the couch opposite him, already signing up for Instagram on her all new Hephaestus-Cabin made-phone. They were working on the names. So far Harley had suggested Hephonestus, but the only one to second it was Leo.

Jason searched for the frame of his glasses in his peripheral vision. “I am… not. I left them on my bedside table.”

“Okay, Grandma, you want me to get them for you?” Leo teased, ruffling the blond’s hair. “Have you taken your medication today? What about measuring your blood pressure?”

Jason sighed deeply. “I understand the elderly in a way I thought I never would. I am one of them.”

“I’ll tell Hazel and Nico you said that. I think they’re having an old movie marathon soon, you should join them,” Piper suggested. Her mouth tilted up on one side in a sly smirk. “You’ll love the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies, Grandma. Say, didn’t you see those in the theater when they first came out?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Eh, kids these days.”

Leo fell into a pit of giggles at Jason’s old woman accent. He had somehow managed to nail it.

“Back in my day, we didn’t have any fancy contraptions such as these-” he waved the phone around in the air, holding it by the corner like he was disgusted by it- “All we had were stock market crashes and crude oil.”

“Pfft,” Piper said. She snapped a sly picture of her friends and made a mental note to post it on her private account later. She would caption it “holidays with Grandma.” No, maybe “Jason discovering his inner old lady”? She’d have to workshop it.

Leo took a deep breath in a last attempt to escape the clutching grasp of laughter. “Okay, it’s official: I’m going to have a group chat with Ethan and Grandma. Two polar opposite beings.”

“No, you remember Ethan?” Piper griped. “This is not going to be good for me.”

Jason nodded solemnly. “Ethan and Grandma: an unstoppable duo.”

“Ethan and Grandma: yin and yang.” Leo pitched like it was a movie, the summer blockbuster.

Piper relented. “Ethan and Grandma: best of friends.”

~*~

Just about the worst thing about Summer was the heat. Everybody agreed on that front (except Leo, he insisted it was the crowds at camp).

Jason and Piper were sprawled out in the strawberry fields, claiming it was too hot to do any real work. Leo, being immune to the heat, just rolled his eyes and kept on picking the berries. He would laugh at them later when Chiron gave them dish washing duty for skirting their responsibilities, but he’d also probably go right down with them if Harley didn’t pitch too big a fit about his absence during the campfire.

Jason tugged on one of the north winds and brought it their way. He sighed as he felt the coolness wash over his face. “Strawberry me, Leo,” he ordered.

“You got it, boss.” He lined up his shot and tossed it towards Jason’s mouth. It would have landed on the grass next to him, but thanks to a little wind manipulation, it was right on target.

“Hey, I want one too!” Piper whined, opening her mouth with an “ahh.” It morphed into an “ow” when the strawberry clocked her square in the forehead. Jason snickered next to her, causing her to slap him lightly in the arm. “Superman? More like Loserman,” she mumbled.

Leo laughed. “Loserman. That’s a good one. We should add it to the list.”

“The list?” Jason asked incredulously. “What list?”

Piper nodded sagely. “We should. Add it to the list, that is.”

Jason sat up and wiped sweat from his brow. “Guys, I’m lost. What is the list?”

There was a list, tacked onto the corkboard in Leo’s room, of the best ways to avoid calling Jason his actual name. It was part of an ongoing experiment to trick new campers into thinking his name was actually Superman or Blondie. “Like Ponyboy from The Outsiders,” Leo had pointed out when his big sister Nyssa found out. She had given him a look and a confused laugh before leaving him and Piper to their own devices.

“You want another strawberry, Pipes?” Leo asked, already finding the best one to give her.

“You know it.” She opened her eyes this time, ready to course correct if need be. Need did indeed be, as the strawberry was headed for the ground above her head, but she shuffled up just in time to catch it in her mouth. It was the green part first, though, so she spat it out and started picking the leaves off.

“You guys are so nefarious,” Jason complained. “You’re always making up lists and you never tell me. There was the list about which horror movies scared me the most so you could torture me on the Halloween movie night. There was the one about what you were going to get me for my birthday, which, now that I say it out loud, makes sense. But my point still stands! If you were a Batman villain, you’d be called the Lister or something stupid like that.”

Piper guffawed. “The Lister is such a lame name. He’d be called the List Bitch.”

“The what huh?” Leo twirled around, making several strawberries fall out of his basket. Jason reached for the nearest one.

“No, that doesn’t quite rhyme. Also, they wouldn’t print the word bitch in the comics,” Jason argued. “List Bist. That rhymes. But it doesn’t make any sense.”

“List Bisque. Bisque is a word, right?” Piper tried.

“Yeah, it’s a type of soup I think. Lobster bisque is pretty good, or so I’ve heard.”

Piper nodded sagely again. “Lobster bisque. That’s good. Leo, if you were a Batman villain, you’d be Lobster Bisque.”

“What does that have to do with me? I am not a lobster and I don’t have a particular connection to soup,” Leo grumbled, picking more strawberries. Maybe he would let them take the fall for dish washing after all.

Jason shrugged and snatched another fruit while Leo wasn’t looking. “I don’t know, but I’m going to get Piper to change your name on my phone to that.”

“Ethan, Grandma and Lobster Bisque.” Piper seemed to envision it as she looked into the wide blue sky. She nodded sagely one final time. “Perfect.”

[mrsweasley23]

Steve can't get no satisfaction...

Another Saturday night at Steve's house, the boys chilling on the sofa with a few films and beers.

"You okay man? You look really fucking tired," Eddie asked.

Steve scoffed. "Thanks for that, dickhead. Not sleeping great to be honest,"

Eddie grinned. "Don't worry. You're still a ten, even when you look like a bag of shit."

Steve punched him in the arm as his face lit up with laughter.

"Nightmares?" Eddie ventured softly.

Steve's hand crept to the back of his neck as he hesitated. "Um, not really... It's.. er... kind of embarrassing to be honest."

"Zero fucking judgement here, man... you never know, I might have some outstanding pearls of wisdom"

"Alright. Fuck....well...I'm just..." he paused. "um... I'm really horny all the time. I mean it. Like all the fucking time." He flushed, speaking into his lap.

Eddie's eyes widened, darkened as he steddied his breath.

"So what... you're spending all night jerking off?"

Steve shrugged, a nervous chuckle escaping. "Wouldn't make a difference if I did. Seriously, as soon as I've cum, it's there again. I want it again. You...um, ever feel like that?"

"Sometimes, I guess. But usually, I just fucking pass out...Sorry man, not what you needed to hear. I pretty much thought orgasms were Mother Nature's sleep aid to all."

Steve groaned. "I fucking wish. Instead I'm just laid awake, feeling like..." He scrunched his fist and face up simultaneously, his bottom lip catching his teeth and it took everything Eddie had, not to bite his fist.

"And, maybe getting laid would help, but, I just... I don't know...I just haven't really wanted to...there's not really anyone I... I dunno...," he tailed off.

"Exhausted the Hawkins pool, Harrington?" Eddie chuckled. "Maybe you need to cast that net wider."

"Maybe...I just wish I could take the edge off myself so I'm not walking round all the time feeling so fucking desperate."

"Does...um...porn help?"

"Erm...I've never really been into looking at... like naked pics or anything", he mumbled. "I kinda prefer to just...you know...imagine stuff."

//Oh. I fucking know//

"But now that's just making you even more frustrated?"

"Pretty much. First world problems, eh. Too horny," he shook his head as he sighed.

"It's not stupid, Steve" he offered gently. "It's clearly bothering you and stopping you sleeping."

"I just wish I could just like...cum and it stop, you know?"

Eddie gulped. "You wanna cum so hard you pass out?"

"Ideally. But I'd take just feeling satisfied after shooting my shot. Rather than this...fucking constant ache to just...sorry, Eds. This is too much. I shouldn't...you don't want to hear this shit."

//If there's any shit I do want to hear, it's that's Steve Harrington spends every waking moment ready to be fucked//

"Don't be silly. Basic locker room talk. I can handle it, big boy."

Steve chuckles and rests his head on Eddie's shoulder. "Thanks for not thinking I'm a total fucking weirdo."

"Never," Eddie smiled. "Now, let's do what I do best. Let's talk strategy!"

"Strategy?"

"Two young wanderers on a quest in pursuit of sexual satisfaction for King Steve,"

"Oh, fuck off with the King..."

"Sorry... Princess Stevie," he bit back with a wink.

"Now, Princess, you must be bold. Now is not the time to be faint hearted,"

"Okay..."

"Tell me how you're jerking off,"

Steve buried his head in his hands. "Fucking hell, Eds".

"Come on. We're talking strategy so we need to know what you've tried so we can come up with alternatives. And maybe a solution..."

//Please, please, please let me be the solution//

"Well, I can't fucking look at you when I say this," Steve muttered, shifting himself so he had his back to Eddie.

"Fine by me", Eddie chuckled, turning himself so his back lightly pressed against Steve's, facing opposite sides of the room, hoping Steve couldn't feel his pounding heart.

"Right... um... so I usually just lube up and go for it. Maybe tug my balls a bit. I've tried doing it faster, slower, tighter. Still no fucking relief,"

"Have you...um...have you, you know, 'explored the back door' so to speak?"

"What...?"

Eddie swallowed thickly. "I like.. um... I mean... some guys like to... um...right, there's a spot inside a guy's ass that is really fucking sensitive. And it feels really fucking good to have something press against it."

Steve's whole body tensed against Eddie's back. "Oh...shit...really? Like a finger?"

"Sure. Finger. Fingers. Maybe something else, you know, um... keep the hands free so you can still... um... do your usual thing."

"So you think I should try, like, slip a finger in? While I'm jacking off?"

//Lord, I'm going to die tonight//

"It can make orgasms pretty intense so maybe worth a shot,"

Silence hung in the air between them.

"Do you.. erm... sorry, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to but is that something you do? Something you like?"

"It's fine. We're all friends here. Yes, Princess Stevie. I love a finger or two up my ass and I think you would too".

"And...erm...and you said other things?"

Eddie sighed. "Just because you look like you haven't slept for a week and you really need this, Steve, I'm going to tell you something I've never told another living soul,"

"You don't have to..."

"Hush boy", Eddie said in his best Wayne drawl. "Let me talk."

//Here goes fucking nothing//

"OK... sometimes I like to lie on my back and push a dildo into my ass when I masturbate. Sometimes I... um...kinda bounce up and down on one while I have my hand on my cock."

Silence. Then when Eddie feels like he can't possibly survive another second...

"How does it feel?"

"Notgonna lie, it feels fucking amazing, to be filled up, to have something pushing again and again into that fucking spot. You wanna cum so hard you're fucking DONE? That's the way Steve,"

"Oh"

Silence again.

"Maybe I should... um... start with a finger. Smaller. I've never had anything... up...in...". He wriggles a little, as if imagining the sensation.

"I concur. Start small. Lots of lube. Take your time."

"Got plenty of that. All fucking night. Every night."

"Well, hopefully, this might help relieve the tension a little. "

"I'll...um...feedback on the strategy I guess?"

/Holy fucking shit. Be cool/

"Yeah man. Can come up with a Plan B if not"

Steve turned back to face forwards, putting his hand on Eddie's shoulder. "Thanks for trusting me with this, Eddie. It means a lot."

Eddie swung back too, his thigh pressing against Steve's. "Same."

[sukirichi]

sweet lies [02]

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. explicit smut, slight body worship, public sex, dirty talk, praising, toxic megumi, fwb dynamics, slight angst, body marking, sukuna bullying megumi, age gap, scratching, mentions of oral (m receiving) and mutual masturbation, the traditional unedited fic

note. choose your fighter, megumi or sukuna 😈 also UHM do you guys want me to make the ending angsty or fluffy? i wrote out two versions so LOL let me know what you think! we’ll get more of the megumi scenes on the next chapter though~

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

Sukuna isn’t kidding when he said he’ll have you unable to walk by the end of this.

You’ve lost count of how many times you guys have fucked.

Once more in the stalls when you thought of repaying the favor by sucking him off, followed by him growing impatient and hauling you inside his car. Both of you were too tired to go for another round, but were still very much addicted for the other’s touch that mutual masturbation seems like the best option.

Thankfully, Sukuna’s cut his nails, so having three of his fingers buried knuckle deep in you feels like absolute heaven. He’s not complaining about your smooth hands wrapped around his shaft either, especially not when you’ve had enough practice with Megumi to know just how to make a guy lose his mind. By the time you’ve made it back home, Sukuna’s grown hard again, too impatient to make it to the bed before he just fucks you raw against the wall. You’re trembling at his hold, left with no choice but to trust his strength to drop you on his cock and bounce you to his pleasure.

It’s a miracle you’ve made it on the bed.

His digital clock reads a quarter at three in the morning, and for a moment, you worry about how tired you’ll be in class tomorrow when Sukuna’s large hands grips your thighs sharply.

“Goddamn,” he hisses through clenched teeth, chuckling at the irresistible sight of your breasts bouncing before him. Limbs tangled, minds controlled with the primal need to fuck, and moans shared with his deep grunts – you somehow end up on top of him, your thighs feeling like they’re on the verge of giving up as you continue to ride his thick length.

“You are so fucking sexy,” he slaps your ass and causes your hips to rut deeper, forcing that delicious curve of his cock to meld with your walls. You throw your head back, palms planted on his chest, focused only on that burning pleasure between your thighs. “I could fuck you all night long.”

Even though you truly have no wish to, you shake your head, fingers balling into a fist. “I have class tomorrow, need to wake up early,” you protest, the words falling into deaf ears as Sukuna thrusts up into you. He must’ve noticed how you’re growing tired and took matters into his own hands, feet grounded on the mattress to pound deliriously into you. You’re debating whether to be thankful or frustrated he still has so much energy even after hours of fucking, but it honestly doesn’t matter. You’re falling into his chest, arms slipping on your equally sweat-covered bodies. Right now, you just wanted to cum – once more, again, one last time! “Ah, Sukuna, t-too much!”

“Too much?” he laughs and tangles his hand to caress your scalp, the gesture too soothing that you almost forgot he’s fucking you into oblivion. “Want me to go slow?”

“No…”

“Thought so, sweetheart,” his grin is absolutely cocky as he bends his knees in a fold, pushing you until your back rests on his muscular thighs. Your mouth falls open at his hands wrapping around your threat, keeping you right there, hips flat and grinding on his cock. “Come on. Come for me,” Sukuna urges, tightening his hold around your neck a little harder.  

That’s all you need for your vision to blur and see stars, your body’s shaking uncontrollable. He’s thrusting with all his power and energy that it feels like you’re nothing but a hole on top of him, tongue falling open in a wanton manner as your drool trails down your chin.

You look filthy, you feel filthy, and yet, Sukuna sees it entirely different.

“So – fucking – gorgeous, fuck. I woulda fucked you sooner if I didn’t feel weird about it.”

“What?”

“Aw, come on, sweetheart,” he smirks at your half fucked out state. Sukuna rolls his hips in such a mind numbing manner that you end up staring at the ceiling, trying your hardest to decipher the colors of his room to get a grip of yourself. But he feels so hot, cock throbbing and pulsing inside you, your puffy lips encasing him with a translucent ring of cum and it feels so fucking good you don’t really understand what he’s saying anymore. “Did you really think I never saw you in my dreams?” he slaps your ass again, the reflexive response of tightening around him pulling a deep groan from the beautiful man beneath you. “I have such a sexy roommate, I couldn’t help it.”

“Then why didn’t you – ah, right there, shit – tell me?”

“Cuz,” he snickers and finally lets you breathe, your pupils blowing wide from the sudden flow of air. Sukuna kneads your breasts greedily, never stopping his mind-numbing rhythm of ramming deep into you. Your body burns, your thighs ache, your pussy feels sensitive but you can’t find the energy to stop him. Instead, you fall prey, failing in your mission to keep him wrapped around your fingers because now you’re wrapped around his cock, and you were quite fucking addicted to it. “You’re my friend’s student. Felt so fucking wrong.”

“What’s the difference now?”

“The difference is,” Sukuna’s face contorts into something of discomfort for a moment before he leans forward, his sturdy grip homing in on your hips again. You feel his searing breath on your ear, so parching it puts the warmth of your pussy to shame. “Having you like this has never felt so right, and I’ll keep fucking you if you let me.”

“I-I’d let you,” you concede absentmindedly and capture his lips for a sloppy kiss, tongues giving up on a battle of dominance. You’re always so clingy when you’re about to come, something Megumi never fails to chastise you for, and you fear Sukuna might push you away as you wrap an arm around him, nails painfully scratching down his back. Red marks leave a trail on its wake until his blood pierces through the sheets, the pain manifested through the increasing roughness of his pace. Now it’s your turn to whimper in his ear, pulling the man close and tugging harshly at the ends of his hair. Gosh, were you actually crying? “Sukuna, I’m close! Yes, yes, right there!”

Sukuna groans at the erotic sounds you reward him with. “Come for me, that’s right, ohhhh,” he stills inside you, his seed spilling deep inside you. You wince at the burst of warmth spreading all over your belly and Sukuna chuckles at your bulging belly. He presses down on it to coax his cum to trickle all over his cock, and he’s fucking filthy – you learn easily – to watch you make a mess on his cock with a childish smile on his face.

You push yourself off him and fall to his side, him following suit not long afterwards. The room feels completely stuffed from your intense fucking, the bruises on your body and scratches on his back a huge attestment to that.

Your legs remain wide open as you clench around nothing, his cum oozing out like a waterfall. Sukuna (that damned pervert) dips two fingers into your hole for one last moment just to drench his fingers in it, his eyes lit up in wonder while he lets it web around his fingers. You snicker at his actions and roll to his side, eyes fluttering close from the wave of exhaustion that comes into full force.

The lingerie set you intended to wear for Megumi was now ripped at the other side of the room, discarded, forgotten – merely evidence of a moment that had never been given to him.

Oddly enough, you don’t feel bad, not even when Sukuna faces you, his cheeks squished by his soft pillows. “I’m spent. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired. My gym sessions can’t compare to this.”

“You go to the gym?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t born this gorgeous, you know. I had to work hard for this,” Sukuna gestures to his body. You can’t help but follow the gestures and admire the hard planes of his muscle ripped above one another, the smatter of dark hair leading down his hips adding to his already immense sexual charisma. It makes you want to jump on him all over again, and you have to bite your lip to resist that urge, rolling your eyes at him in favor of letting him know you could totally go for another round.

“Dork.”

“Got me laid though, was worth the effort,” he jokes, and you both laugh.

It’s actually…weird, to laugh so casually with someone like this. It might be normal for Sukuna in his past sexual endeavors, but it’s totally a different thing for you. You and Megumi had never even bothered with aftercare. As long as he’s satisfied himself, he’d clean himself off in the bathroom and wear his sweatpants, winking at you before he leaves you alone all over again. The memory – albeit not really a regrettable one – is still painful each time you’re reminded you’ll keep coming back to him.

But are things different now? Could you go back to Megumi? You only ever wanted to fuck Sukuna because you’re sad and horny, but it wouldn’t be fair to him, especially when your roommate has been nothing but nice to you. Besides, him being a little more decent doesn’t immediately equate he’s different than Megumi.

For all you know, you could just be another cheap fuck. Sukuna is older and sexier, after all, he’s clearly had a lot more experience than you do.

As if reading your mind, Sukuna rests his head on his palms, elbows flat on the bed as he turns to you. The expression on his face is unreadable, but there’s some sort of softness behind it – a softness you’re not really familiar with.

“Hey. I don’t exactly know what you’re going through, not everything, anyway, but whatever we have right now, I want you to know it’s not because I see just as a pretty pussy, okay?” he says with a straight face, but you really shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up because Sukuna smirks, mischievous eyes darting back and forth to your soaked pussy and bare breasts. “Although you do have a pretty pussy. Can I eat you out again?”

With that, you snatch the pillow underneath him and whack it straight at his face. Sukuna laughs at your protests, the sound growing louder and a lot more mocking the harder you hit him. “Gosh, Sukuna, shut up!”

You end up hitting him way too many times in the face that he can’t get his words through, and before you could react, Sukuna’s ripped the pillow away from you. He cages you in his arms and hovers over you once more, his boneless dick grazing the insides of your thigh. It’s not meant to be sexual, and nothing about his stance gives off anything that shows he wants to do it again, but you can’t help but feel aroused, shifting your legs up and down the bed as you squirm.

“Seriously though,” he repeats, “We can be casual, or this could be a one time thing. Card’s all yours to play. If you want to forget everything tomorrow, I’d gladly do it. Let’s just go back to the way we were-”

“Sukuna.”

“Yes?”

“Did you really think I was only using you to distract myself?”

Sukuna’s lips flatten into a line. “I’m not stupid,” he says somberly, “I could tell you were still thinking about him. Not that I mind, though, you can’t stop yourself from loving someone,” Faintly, you’re distracted by his thumbs rubbing at your pulse point. It’s so lulling you want to fall asleep, but Sukuna isn’t done talking. “My point is…you don’t have to worry about being weird with me. We could just be friends with benefits, if you want, and not the kind you have with your boy toy either. ”

His blatantly catches you off guard and your eyes widen before they narrow at him, trying your best to hide your embarrassment. If Megumi was painfully honest, Sukuna’s ridiculously blunt that his mere words make your heart do weird things you’d rather not feel.

Careful, you remind yourself, Megumi is the one you want. You have to keep reminding yourself that before your feelings get the best of you. It’s Megumi, it’s always been Megumi and it always will be Megumi. Sukuna is just your roommate who’s nice enough to take your mind off things. You only wish you weren’t lying too much in case he gets the wrong idea you’re leading him on, but then again, isn’t that what you’re doing?

Friends with benefits or not – you still have no plans on getting involved with this guy any longer.

It’s always Megumi. You just really needed a quick fuck, someone whose dick didn’t belong with the guy you’re so hung up on over. The change feels nice and you definitely feel a lot better than the last time you met Megumi, but this guilt…it tastes bitter on your tongue, too heavy to swallow and ignore. It’s always Megumi, you tell yourself again in an attempt to relieve your pain.

Though it doesn’t subside and you huff in exasperation, turning away from Sukuna. You can’t stand looking at him right now.

“I’m not,” you mumble weakly, but the tears – the guilt, the heartbreak of not being Megumi’s lover, the regret and the ironic need to be closer to Sukuna feels all so confusing – all threaten to burst through. You don’t want him to see you cry, that would be lame, so you scoot closer to him and kiss his shoulder as you shyly ask, “C-can we cuddle?”

“Of course,” he chuckles, pulling you closer, “You don’t have to sound too nervous to ask.”

“Sorry, it’s just-”

“He never does that?”

“…Yeah.”

“Well, I’m not him,” Sukuna answers confidently, surprising you when he grabs your ass to press you flush against him. You’re both sweaty and hot to the point it’s uncomfortable, but Sukuna smells so sweet with his lingering cologne that you can’t help yourself from planting your face in his neck, breathing in the little hums he makes. Sukuna kisses the crown of your head – which is a little too sweet than you’d like – while his other hand runs down your back in a slow, sensual manner. Hell, it feels close to body worshipping, and you hate that you silently want more of this. “I’d cuddle you every day if you asked me to.”

“You’re surprisingly sweet,” you voice with a smile. Sukuna’s chest rumbles from the low laughter, and like that, you cling to him like he’s the only sturdy pillar in your life. It’s pathetic, maybe even desperate, but if he doesn’t mind, then why should you?

However, the moment is quickly ruined when the bell rings. “Shit, I forgot he was coming over!”

Sukuna glares at the door and holds you tighter, almost possessively, and refuses to let you go even as you squirm under him. “At three in the morning?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to meet him right now,” you groan helplessly.

Sukuna shoots you a blank look after that, then shoots out of the bed in an instant. You watch as he quickly dresses up in a fresh pair of sweatpants, grabbing a random hoodie from the back of his chair, presumably to hide the scratch marks. You have to hide your smile behind your hand because he looks so drool-worthy with marks littered on his already marked skin, and the fact he lets you mark him is even hotter.

He pauses at the door for a moment, pointing a finger at where you peered up at him curiously. “Stay there. I’ll talk to him and say you went out or whatever. Just make sure to silence your phone in case he calls. Better yet, turn it off.”

Sukuna closes the door behind him, already on the way to the entrance just as you press your ears against the door to eavesdrop. There’s a slight shuffling before the door unlocks, then, “Why the fuck did you lock-” Megumi pauses in his words, and you can perfectly picture his infamous scowl painting his handsome features already. Gosh, you wish you could actually see it, but if Megumi catches you sleeping with someone else, he might totally lose interest in you. That’s not something you could afford to happen.

“Oh. You’re her roommate.��� You snigger at his usual what the fuck tone – how Megumi of him.

“Hey, kid, it’s a little too late for a visit, don’t you think?” Sukuna taunts, and it takes everything in you to not burst through the door at that moment. You’re stuck between wanting to laugh and crying, mostly because you would love and hate for Megumi to get riled up. “Do your parents know you’re here? Kids shouldn’t be out this late.”

“I’m not a fucking kid, I’m in uni,” he defends, “Do you know where Y/N is? I need to talk to her.”

Deciding fuck it, you open the door by an inch, just enough to peek. As expected, Megumi is glaring behind Sukuna’s shoulders in search of you. Meanwhile, Sukuna’s completely calm, checking his nails boredly as if Megumi isn’t fuming in front of him. And boy, do you know how much Megumi hates being ignored. “Oh, I think she went out, I don’t know why though. House was empty when I got here.”

“She didn’t tell you where she was going?”

At Megumi’s imposing tone, Sukuna tilts his head to scrutinize Megumi. Now that you’re seeing them together, Sukuna’s twice the size of Megs, their height and shoulder width too different to start comparing. But knowing Megumi, he’s not going to back down from a tattooed guy twice his size, not even as he sarcastically remarks, “Ain’t you her friend? She should be telling you that kind of stuff.”

Truthfully, you expected he would put up more of a fight. The two of them share a heated staring competition before Megumi scoffs, the first one to look away. “Whatever,” he dismisses, “Tell her to pick her damn phone up. I’ve been calling for the past hour.”

“I think I should tell her to get better friends.”

“What was that?”

“I said get home safely,” Sukuna chirps. Even with his back turned to you, you could tell Sukuna’s just further pressing his buttons with a grin that’s not meant to be inviting at all. Just when you think it’s done, however, Sukuna finishes off with, “Kid.”

Megumi rages. His blue eyes flame into something feral, his fists balled at his sides. He’s always had a temper issue and you nearly reveal yourself to stop whatever fight is about to ensue, but Sukuna’s already closing the door, ridding any opportunity for the younger one to retaliate. At the sound of the door closing, Sukuna leans against the door, his smile still plastered on his face as if he knows you’re watching the whole time. He meets your eyes from the slight peep of his door, waving his hands sarcastically.

“Sukuna, you didn’t have to be so mean.”

“Sorry,” he isn’t apologetic at all. “Next time I’ll be nicer to your asshole crushes,” he adds with a slight roll of his eyes and you punch his chest playfully. You don’t stop him from grabbing your wrists to embrace you in a hug that doesn’t seem so platonic – but not so suggestive either. Sukuna rests his chin on top of your hand while he sways you both side to side, his voice muffled in your hair. “I understand why you’re attracted to him though. He’s really handsome.”

“Yeah, he is,” you agree sadly, thinking of how much it’s really all a waste Megumi has to be like that. “Just sucks his personality ruins everything.”

“A pretty face is always deceiving,” Sukuna suddenly pulls away and holds you an arm’s length away.  “Hey, want to have early breakfast?”

“I think that would be late dinner,” you frown at him.

“Whatever, food is food,” he responds rather excitedly, and you watch as Sukuna rummages through the fridge. Now that you think about it, having sex so much really took a toll on you, and your stomach grumbles loudly. Sukuna hides his chuckles through the fridge but you hear him anyway, shouting at him that you’re not hungry. “Wasn’t asking, sweetheart. Now go get cleaned and changed, I’ll make something for you.”

If anyone were to tell you that a good fucking is all that’s needed for you to immediately form a new kind of friendship with your roommate, you’d call them weird. Sukuna isn’t necessarily out of reach, you and him just simply didn’t cross paths.

But now, you’re dressed comfortably in his boxers and the oversized shirt you stole from him, eating the slightly burn cheese sandwich he’s made, sharing conversation and laughing with him like you’ve been doing it for such a long time. Your sandwich is actually half forgotten on the plate as you whack your palms on the counter, “That’s how you and Prof Gojo met? I never would’ve expected you guys fought over a girl!”

“He was fucking annoying in high school,” Sukuna grumbles over an angry bite, “He was getting all the girls that when someone confessed to me, the hottest chick, no less, he straight up punched me in the face,” you laugh as you imagine the memory of a younger, already rebellious looking Sukuna getting smacked by the even more intolerable Gojo Satoru. Sukuna is lost in his own memories as well, shaking his head from around the last bites of his bread. It’s clear he hates the burnt crust judging from the way he turns a little green, but he’s bragged about his cooking skills so proudly that he has to save face in front of you. “Ah, such good times,” he muses before wincing at his own words, dropping his bread in disgust. “Damn, I sound old, don’t I?”

“You’re only like, five years older than me, it’s fine,” you giggle, “I like the maturity that comes with older people. You’re a lot easier to be with than guys my age.”

“Please,” Sukuna smirks, “Just say you like fucking older men. I won’t judge.”

If anyone were to tell you that you would be jumping over the counter to strangle your roommate who’s now running like hell, your laughter bursting through the once silent apartment, you would call them a liar. But now, you and Sukuna are panting on the floor, too tired from sprinting all around before calling it quits. Maybe it’s a lie – maybe this connection will never really be that much of a big deal – but as long as this lie and play pretend of friendship lasts, you’ll just enjoy every sweet moment of it.

taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed) (bold can’t be tagged) @uwubby-1 @expectoscamander @your-consulting-fangirl @dora-the-grownup @cosmotoic @charlie-xo @kittaliapenn @sukunas-cult-leader @flowersgirl02 @cloudsinthecosmos @90s-belladonna @averysheart-raleighsdick @generousstudentpsychic-bat @kat-su-ki @issamomma​ 

[btnclmrttn]

Saitama x Neko reader. Who is flirty yet when he gets flirty they freeze on their spot and covers their face. Do it. 😈

How is it my first ask is discribing the literal one shot I wrote when I was 16 on Wattpad 😭

But thank you v much I'm excited that you were my first ask! I've been uploading everyone else's first cause I was worried about getting behind and I was overthinking. I hope this satisfies. Again thanks for your patience!!!!

Cheater (Neko!Reader)

~~~~

A little thump of a controller bounces beside you for about the third time now.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?"

A laughter erupts out of your chest targeting your god awful teammate rage quitting beside you, "Yeah, seriously? I gotta revive you again? You're awful!"

"Be quiet."

"Nah," you say, swatting your tail at his side, "If I gotta carry the round I can say what I want."

He grumbles as you try to make your way past the enemies to revive him before he kicks the bucket. Granted you could likely survive without him, it wouldn't teach him how to do shit.

It was a decent way to pass the time on a hot day, playing a game you rented to try out. It isnt dry heat either it's fucking moist heat. Where you're constantly sticky with sweat and itchy and nothing helps unless you're locked inside with an ac.

Somehow your friend survived without it through his training. Probably sweated all his hair out that way.

"I'm thinking you suck on purpose so you can get me to come after you," you jest.

Saitama picks his controller back up once he's been revived by a nearby player, "Why would I do that?"

"You just really like my attention, huh?"

A scoff returns your teasing remark, "Oh, yeah, totally."

"It's either that or you're just a hopeless case."

"I'd shoot you if we weren't on the same team."

Another gunshot echos the speakers. Saitama is once again out for the count. Your laughter bubbles out of your chest as the man let's out an array of profanities.

A finger jabs your shoulder in the middle of your giggle fit, Saitama demanding, "You knock that off! I don't laugh at you when you die!"

"Aw, you're so cute when you're mad!" you coo as you run back to revive him.

"Don't-!" Saitama stops himself momentarily in a bit of a fluster, "-just shut up!"

"Make me!" You say as you stick your tongue out to him before turning back to the game.

"Make you?" He asks, "Fine. Turn the game off and come here."

That statement sends a little surprise through you. He's gotta be joking. Dude hasn't ever had the balls to say something like that.

Ignoring him, you continue to play the game, carrying the round as usual. A pair of eyes are burning against your neck, you can feel. He's now staring.

"I know you heard me," his says, as he scoots closer, "Turn it off. I'll make you."

"Yeah, right!" you reply, only half certain with your confidence,"Rounds almost over, anyway. We can play a new game after."

"Come on," he presses, leaning in closer to your ear, "Turn it off, ____. I'll give you what you want."

Your shoulders hike up as a hand starts to run up your spine slowly, stopping just behind your twitching ears. Fingers trace just along the base, starting a petting motion.

Your breath begins to struggle to exhale from your chest, flaring with a heat that engulfs your face.

All your attention now set on the tingling sensation of Saitama's teasing touch.

Till an echo rings in the room once more.

"AHA! SEE THAT? YOU DIED!" Saitama cries out, laughing the loudest you've ever heard from him. Rather forced to emphasize his triumph.

Ruining the moment.

"I-It don't count if you were distracting me-!"

"Aht!" He interrupts pulling away completely, "Excuses! You lose!"

"Ugh...asshole."

"You. lose." he repeats as he enters in a new round, "and if I had known it was that easy to "distract" you, I would have started doing this a while ago."

"Now that's just cheating!" You cry out while following him into the game.

"Can't take it, don't dish it out," Saitama says nonchalantly with a shrug.

"I'm not reviving you this round," you grumble.

[faghubby]

UNBELIEVABLE

"He is late, is he still coming?" I asked Judy

"Yes, now calm down your making me nervous" She told me.

John was a man Judy had found on a website. After I had confessed that I wanted her find a bulk to cuckold me. She had already slept with several different men alone. John and Judy had talked on the phone and he had told her he had been a bull for couples before. This had all started months ago when Judy had an affair. I suspected that she had an affair as soon as it had happened. One night she came home late, I was already asleep when she came to bed. She called him to tell her she got home safe. It woke me but I laid still as I overheard her conversation. I confessed when she hung up how it turned me on that she was fucking someone else. I surprised her when I went down on her eating her used pussy, as she told me how big he was, how he had made her cum.

Back to today. John finally arrived and Judy took him straight to the bedroom. I put the dog out and met them in the bedroom. John was a big black man. When I entered the bedroom Judy was already stroking his huge cock.

"Look at the size of him" She told me. She couldn't close her hand around it.

"Suck my cock" John told her.

"I don't do that" Judy told him, I knew that was a lie but didn't know why. He was disappointed but she kept stroking his cock.

"Have you told your husband that he can't satisfy you?" He asked

"Tell him he isn't man enough" he continued. She had told him about me wearing panties. All this overwhelmed Judy. She freaked out.

John was understanding about it. As he put his cock away. I held her briefly trying to figure how what was wrong. While John used the bathroom.

"I didn't like him talking down to you" She told me. "I can't with you here. Sorry" She told me.

"Would you like me to help you?" I asked.

"How?" She asked. I just gave her a you know look

"You would suck his cock?" She whispered. Totally surprised. I just tilted my head alittle. Just then John came out of the bathroom

Judy whispered something in his ear. He just knodded

"Show him your pretty panties" Judy told me. I turned beet red but dropped my pants exposing a bright green lace thong Judy had picked out for me. Judy pulled his cock back out. John and her held each other as I dropped to my knees and licked his cock. I had sucked my one friend's cock when we where teenagers 30 years ago. But none since and never even seen a cock the size of John's. I licked the tip tasting him. I could barely fit the head in my mouth I just tried different things. Licking and sliding my mouth up and down his shaft. His balls matched his enormous cock. I held one then the other in my hand. I looked up and both John and Judy had removed each other's shirts. John was kissing her breast. Judy's ran her hand through my hair. John was fully hard now. But his cock was so big it hung down from the weight of it.

Judy nor John said a word they just let me suck his cock. I had thought Judy was going to help me but she just allowed me to please her lover. My jaw hurt after awhile.

Judy kneeled behind me. "Do you want him to cum in your mouth, or do you want him to fuck me with that monster cock and have you eat his cum from me?" I double my effort Judy understood and rubbed my hard little penis.

"Your so stiff in your panties" She whispered in my ear. She stopped not wanting me to cum. I felt John stiffen and then the first shot of cum nearly choked me. His balls literally jumped as each huge spurt of cum was released from them. I could not swallow fast enough and soon my face was covered in his sperm. He came so much it ran over my face. Soaking my shirt.

"Clean him" Judy told me. I licked his cock clean. Judy caught some of the cum and fed it to me off her fingers.

John pulled Judy to her feet and tossed her on the bed pushing me aside. His massive cock was still hard. I stared amazed that he had not lost any of his erection. He tore Judy's panties off tosing them at me. I had not even noticed she had removed her pants.

John mounted her. I watched as He tried to get her to except his massive cock. He slid the head in and she orgasmed. He pushed in several more inches. And started to fuck her. Judy looked like she was in a different world as she just laid there in a constant moan of pleasure. I watched in wonder as she took all of his cock inside herself. Her lips spread wide. He now fucked her in long slow strokes. He kept it up for 30 minutes before he filled her stretched pussy. Then he just stood and walked to the bathroom. I stood and checked on Judy.

"You want to clean me don't you?" She asked pushing my head down.

"Gentile baby it's sore" She said. As I used my tounge to scoop cum from her. John was getting dressed and ignored us letting himself out. Judy passed out before I even finished licking her clean. I covered her and let her sleep. I had still not cum. Ashamed but still so horny I decided to get all dressed up. I put on a bra and stockings which Judy had bought for me. But I put on one of Judy's dresses and my high heel shoes. I decided to tidy up the house while Judy slept.

I heard Judy get up and use the bathroom. And decided to make her something to eat. She was in her robe still in bed when I bought her dinner.

"Don't you look cute" Judy commented. "Come sit with me" She told me.

"You where very naughty today" She smiled. "So are you gay?"

"No" I told her.

"You begged me to buy a strapon and fuck you, and now you suck a strangers cock and you love to dress up like a woman" She explained

She reached under my dress, "you are still hard? So you didn't play with yourself" She commented. I shook my head

"You want to cum like a woman" She told me. "But you where naughty so I don't think you should be allowed to cum" she told me. I was so excited Judy was truely understanding what I wanted.

"I shared your secret with someone" She confessed.

"Who?" I panicked. She handed me her phone showing me a back and forth with her sister. Including pics of me sucking John.

"Why don't you run me a bath" Judy told me.

Judy continued to cuck me with several men. But never saw John again. Lynn, Judy's sister often bought me sexy lingerie or sex toys for Christmas or my Birthday. She enjoyed teasing me about being a sissy. For several years it seemed to be bliss. But we drifted apart for other reasons. I still think of that afternoon as one of the best times in my life.

[waka-chan-out]

can i get prompt 4, nsfw with matsukawa? loving the event so far, keep it up 🥳

300 Follower Event

Matsukawa Issei

Prompt 4: “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”

this fic was part of my 300 follower event. check out the rest of the submissions here.

post-timeskip, obviously.

word count: 2k 🧍🏼‍♂️

content warning: french kissing, fingering, and car sex with matsukawa. what more could anybody want ??

YES U CAN BESTIE. to be totally honest i wrote like 90% of these prompts with mattsun in mind so this is PERFECT (if anyone is curious the other 10% were goshiki lmao)

i feel like writing this fic was a religious experience. i am somehow even more in love with him than ever.

It was always embarrassingly hard to be close to him.

You’d gone on three dates, but each time he touched the small of your back to lead you through a doorway or leaned close to you to make a joke, you felt like you were going to pass out.

He was just so handsome. The way his black curls fell just so and his thick eyebrows cocked when you responded to his teasing with a joke of your own made you want to either throw yourself at him or run the other way to avoid making a fool of yourself.

Three dates.

You were the one to make the joke about the rule.

“What are you talking about?” he responded, lips quirked up in an amused smile. He was holding your hand, swinging it between you as you walked to your car.

“You know . . . the third date is when you get lucky. You’ve never heard of that?”

“No, actually. Are you speaking from experience?”

You laughed and glanced down at your hands.

“Not really. I figured you’d be familiar with it.”

He lifted your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckle.

“Not really.” He stared a hole through you and let your hands fall again as you finally reached the car.

“Do you want to be?”

It took a surprised glance from him for you to realize that the words had come out of your mouth. A moment of boldness after letting your nerves wrack your body all night.

“If that’s a sincere offer,” he started. Your mouth hung stupidly open as he gently pressed you back against the cool metal. “I don’t think I can turn it down.”

“Really?”

He was already leaning forward.

“Really.” He pressed his lips to yours.

The feeling was all encompassing and shockingly sweet. He didn’t hesitate to slip his tongue into your mouth, though he moved slowly and eased you into the feeling. You grabbed at the front of his shirt as one of his hands made its way to your face, cradling it and holding you close to him.

You heard the pop of the car door and broke the kiss. Matsukawa pulled you against his body and eased it open, then gently pushed you into the backseat.

You shifted so you were laying across the cushions and he followed, leaning over you and awkwardly closing the door behind him.

“Can you lock it?” he asked. You craned your neck and snatched the keys out of your bag, already discarded on the floor. The car beeped twice, and Matsukawa returned his lips to yours.

He was a little more impatient in his movements this time, holding himself steady with one arm and wrapping the other around your shoulder. It wasn’t frantic but it was deep. You felt like every pull of his lips was reaching the balls of your feet.

He kissed a line to your jaw, using his hand to push the neckline of your shirt aside. He brought his lips to your shoulder and buried himself there, forcing a gasp from your throat as you wrapped your legs around him. He was forced to lean farther down on top of you, hips lining up with yours and -- oh fuck.

You shuddered at the feeling of how much he wanted you and tightened your legs around him.

He huffed a laugh between open mouth kisses along your neck.

“Are you okay?” He slid his tongue along your jawline and ended it with a kiss below your ear. “You’re shaking.”

You held him tighter around the shoulders as he nipped at your earlobe.

“Fine,” you managed to say. “Just --” he cut you off with a brief kiss on the mouth before returning to your jawline. You let out a breathy laugh. “You make me nervous.”

He pulled back immediately.

“Nervous? I can stop if you want.”

You grabbed his collar and dragged him back down to you.

“Good nervous.” You buried a hand in his hair and kissed him again. You could feel him smiling against your lips as he ran a hand up your side and underneath your shirt.

He seemed satisfied with the way you shivered at the touch. He slid his hand down to your thigh. He hesitated there for a second, then let it drift back up to nearly between your legs. You gasped and broke the kiss.

“Is this okay?” he asked. You stared at him wide eyed for a moment, then nodded. He smiled and returned his lips to your jaw. At the same time, his hand finally made its way between your legs.

You let out a long sigh at the feeling. You hadn’t realized how much you needed him to touch you until he did. Your hips tipped up into his hand, wanting more. He breathed a laugh into your skin and grabbed at your waistband.

“Can I?” he asked, waiting for you to look him in the eye. You met his gaze and were nearly startled by how dark and playful his stare was.

“Please.”

He slid your pants down, stopping for a moment at your knees but apparently deciding that they needed to be completely removed. He threw them in a crumpled mess on the floor and stared between your exposed legs for a moment.

“Cute.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, then tugged on his hair to bring him back down into a kiss.

He followed obediently, positioning one arm behind your head and dragging the other up your inner thigh. You both froze for a moment as he pulled aside the thin fabric between your legs and pressed a single finger inside of you.

You gasped and wrapped your arms around his neck, one hand sliding underneath the collar of his shirt. His body tensed at the feeling. He pressed a kiss to your lips and pulled his hand back, then added a finger as he sunk back in. He moved slowly but skillfully, and it felt alarmingly good for just being his hand. He kissed down your jaw and curled his fingers, forcing a quiet moan from your lips.

“God,” he breathed against your neck. “You were ready for me.”

You wanted to respond with something witty, but he was right. His eager fingers felt too good inside of you for you to think of a comeback.

He returned to your face, pressing his forehead against yours. He trained his eyes between your legs as your hips squirmed against him.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re gorgeous.”

You didn’t have the brain power to respond, so you trailed a hand down his chest to the bulge in his pants. He inhaled sharply but didn’t try to pull away. You palmed him through the fabric, hand not quite moving how you wanted it to as his fingers continued dragging inside of you.

“Will you fuck me?” you asked. The momentary boldness had returned, and Matsukawa didn’t seem even remotely prepared for it.

“Jesus fuck,” he mumbled. He pressed a kiss to your lips and slowed his hand. “I don’t have anything . . . you know?” You smiled and kissed him again.

“Center console.”

His eyebrows furrowed and he smiled as he sat up and popped the compartment open. He laughed aloud when he saw what was inside. He reached in and pulled out a box of condoms.

“Really?” he asked.

“I was excited for our date!” He tore off a single condom and slammed the lid shut before practically falling on top of you.

“I’ll try not to disappoint.” He returned to kissing your neck and you snatched the packet away from him. You brought it to your lips and tore off the top of the foil. He glanced up and laughed.

“Eager, are we?”

“Shut up,” you said. You yanked at his belt and quickly undid the rest. He helped you push down his waistband and boxers. You drew in a shaky breath and he laughed, watching as you gazed between his legs.

“You alright?”

You glared at him as you slid the condom onto him. He hissed at the sudden attention.

“Jesus. Warn a guy.”

“Are you going to fuck me or not?”

He took a deep breath and briefly pressed his lips to yours.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

He lined himself up with your entrance and readjusted his arms, wrapping one around your waist and the other around your shoulder. He buried that hand in your hair and leaned back to gaze at your face as he slid inside of you.

All the air was sucked out of the car as you leaned into each other. His head fell against yours as he moved slowly, brows furrowed and eyes squeezing shut. He hesitated before continuing.

“You okay?” he asked. His voice sounded adorably strained.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Are you?”

He laughed and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Absolutely.”

He drew his hips back and set a slow, deep pace. Your breathing quickly synched with his, long and heavy and a little desperate. He had you wrapped in some approximation of a hug, arms tight around you and one hand cradling your head. He pressed his face into your neck, steady panting tickling your throat.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You feel good.” You pulled at his now messy curls and brought his mouth to yours.

“A little faster,” you mumbled against his lips. He let out a shaky breath and complied, propelling his hips against you and hitting right where you needed him. His tongue fell into your mouth, haphazardly exploring yours between gasps.

Normally you couldn’t come like this, but the glow growing between your legs was quickly proving otherwise. The tighter he held you, the closer you came to snapping. You gripped him a little tighter and buried your face against his shoulder.

The world outside of the was deliciously quiet. Nothing existed beyond the creaking of the suspension and snap of his hips and your matching panting. It was intimate and overwhelming and he felt so good. You wouldn’t be able to give this up easily.

He let out a small “ah” and turned his face into your hair. “I’m close.”

You nodded, hoping he would understand that you were too.

His gasps turned to groans as he sped up just a bit, satisfying both of your needs for more. Your breaths lifted in pitch at the end, almost whines, as he drove his hips into yours.

You reached the breaking point first, gripping his shoulders and letting out a small sob as your body shook. The feeling of you finishing around him had him following quickly behind, hips stuttering as he let out a rough moan against your hair.

He slowed to a stop and let his full weight fall onto you as you stayed wrapped around each other, chests heaving. His pants quickly became small bouts of breathy laughter, ending in short kisses along your shoulder and neck.

He must have realized that he was making it a little hard for you to catch your breath, because he sat up and tucked himself back into his boxers. You stretched your legs out into his lap and laid an arm over your eyes.

“I think I like the third date rule,” he said. You smacked him with your free hand and laughed in spite of yourself.

“I don’t know how the forth is supposed to top this,” you teased. He grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss on the knuckle, then grinned.

“Darling, it’s only up from here.”

[in-ky]

An Old Scent [2] - Negan x Reader (A/B/O AU)

Summary: During summer break, you decide to come back home to visit your dad, Rick. Over the course of your stay, you realize that your dad's friend is pretty hot.

Warnings: Eventual smut, A/B/O dynamics, cheating, angst, age gap, Negan, a bit of gore if you squint

A/N: ok so everything is written i'm just gonna stagger posting a little bit :') 2.7k words

The first thing I woke up to in the morning was a dull ache in my lower abdomen. Great. My heat was starting up again. Growing up, Bee always asked why I never went on suppressants. I always got a bad vibe from them. Then, a few years ago, a large brand got recalled because it was shown to cause cancer in a lot of different patients. Now suppressants were harder to come by, more regulated, and needed a doctor's prescription. A lot of omegas took the hit hard, but out of it came an influx of at-home ways to take care of your heats by yourself. Super helpful for a single girl like me. When my heats started to get really bad around my junior year of high school, Bee took me out on a shopping spree and got me a bunch of toys to try and satisfy myself. It worked for a while, but they got worse as the years passed. By my age, a lot of omegas were already claimed and had an alpha to help them through their heats. I was still relying on the toys Bee had bought me. The box was tucked neatly under my bed, waiting for me. I rolled over with a small groan and sighed. The heat wouldn't be in full swing for another few days or so, so I could still go to the courthouse with my dad. Speaking of, I heard Rick shuffling down the hall and slid out of bed, gathering my bathroom stuff and walking out of my room into the small tiled room to start the day.

~~~

"So you weren't at the garage on the night of the eight?" Negan hummed, leaning against the railing in front of the tv. His eyes were glued to the face of the man sitting on the stand. The poor guy was drenched in a nervous sweat, tight blue shirt sucking at his chubby neck. He swallowed thickly and leaned forward to the microphone.

"That's correct," he croaked.

"Oh, Jeremy," Negan chuckled, shaking his head and looking at his feet. "Don't you know perjury is a criminal offense?"

"I-I'm not lying!"

"Is that so?" The alpha held up the remote to the TV "I have some footage here that directly contradicts your story, man. One last chance." He wiggled the remote teasingly and raised his eyebrows. Jeremy held his ground. "Alrighty then, let's see what we have here." He took a step back and furrowed his brow at the remote and pressed a button. The screen in front of him came to life. I had to lean forward in order to see the video, but in reality it wasn't the security tape I was watching. It was him. I couldn't look away. He had dominated the room for the past hour and a half. His deep voice was never raised, but it still carried a commanding tone that had every person sitting on the stand shaking in their boots. My eyes trailed down his body. His suit clung to him in every perfect way. His hair was slicked back in its iconic style and the way his glasses perched on his face made my insides burn. Part of me regretted seeing him like this so close to my heat, but another part couldn't imagine if I hadn't. Rick leaned over and tapped my elbow.

"We've got him now for sure." He whispered in my ear. A smile formed on my lips as I nodded to him. There was a child-like joy on his face. He really did appreciate my presence. I turned my attention back to the video screen. The footage was fuzzy, but there was a clear figure of a woman standing still hunched over what I presumed was her phone. She was texting away, fingers flying over her screen. Suddenly a large figure, who had the same height and build as Jeremy, slunk out from the shadows. He slowly approached the woman from behind and raised a crowbar high above his head. He swung it down with brutal force. There were small gasps of horror from the jury and the crowd as the crowbar connected solidly with the woman's head. She collapsed in a heap, but Jeremy didn't stop beating her until she was a pile of mush. Negan clicked the TV off.

"Well, shit, Jeremy," He boomed "I do in fact think you are lyin' to me." He tossed the remote down on his table top and gave a grim scoff. "Everyone just saw you turn poor Miss Parker's head into your personal punching bag. You still wanna claim you were no where near there?" All of the color had drained from Jeremy's round face. He swallowed again, tugging at his restricting collar. But soon, his face turned a deep shade of pink and he slammed his beefy palms on the flat surface of the box he was sitting in.

"That bitch deserved it!" He howled, gasping for air. "She had no business-" He stopped when Negan raised his hand silently.

"I really don't care," He sighed, turning around and grinning broadly when he saw the defense team resting their heads in their hands in defeat. "I'll let the jury do the rest, your honor."

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Smith." The judge said, voice prickling with annoyance. Negan returned to his bench and pulled out his seat. But before he sat down he gave Rick a small thumbs up. And I could have sworn that he flashed me a little smile as well.

~~~

"You were incredible in there!" I cheered, giving Negan a high five. The contact made my skin tingle, but I passed it off as the consequences of the impact. "You really made that guy tremble like a kid!"

"It's what I do," Negan chuckled deeply. He looked around me and furrowed his brow. "Where's your dad?"

"He's pulling the car around," I said "I just figured I should let you know how good you did before I leave." He was so close. He smelled so good. The same combination of whiskey and campfire that could get me drunk in a few breaths. I was so focused on his intoxicating musk that I didn't notice the group of alphas that were headed our way. Negan did, though. I heard a rumbling from his chest and felt a hand clasp around my shoulder. Confusion clouded my mind and I looked up to him for some answers.

"The next case is starting soon," He said smoothly "Let's go wait for your dad outside." I agreed and he steered me out onto the steps of the courthouse. The short skirt and heels I was wearing weren't exactly comfortable for walking down stairs, so I held onto Negan's forearm as he guided me down to street level. There was a small breeze and I saw his jaw tense as a soft gust of wind swirled up from behind me and into his body. It no doubt carried my scent on it, and an alpha like Negan could probably tell what state I was in.

"So," I sighed, looking to engage him further "What's next?"

"Well," He tilted his head and ran a hand over his bear-covered chin. "Jeremy goes to jail. Your dad and the department get praise. And I get to go to the bar for a celebratory drink." He paused for a moment, looking me up and down quickly. "You want to join me?" I opened my mouth to say something. To be honest, I wasn't sure what I was going to say. I didn't really drink, but I was willing to do absolutely anything that Negan wanted. But it was then that Rick rounded the corner and gave the horn a little honk.

"I would love to," I settled on "But dad has a full day of father-daughter fun times planned, and I don't really want to keep him waiting." I gestured awkwardly to where Rick was sitting in the car, bopping his head gently to incoherent music.

"Totally understand, doll." He grinned.

"Maybe another time, though?"

"For sure."

"See you around, Negan."

"Bye, doll, have fun. And be safe"

~~~

Negan was pleasantly buzzed, as per usual. He got off his motorcycle and hung his helmet on the handlebar before lightly stumbling into the house from the dark garage. The sight he saw he did not expect. There sat his fiancé in the living room, arms crossed over her chest with a pissed expression on her face. And beside her was a woman he knew all too well.

"The hell is goin' on here?" He asked, slurring his words slightly.

"I could ask you the same thing, Negan."

"Lucille, what the fuck is she doing in our house?"

"Oh, so you know her?" Lucille growled. Negan just licked his lips and flicked his gaze between the two women sitting in front of him. "Of course you do. You have been fucking her after all." Negan groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"Baby, please-" He started, but Lucille cut him off.

"Don't you dare," She hissed, jumping to her feet and balling her hands into fists "You don't get to call me that after what you've done, Negan. You slept with another woman. Hell, maybe more than one. You ruined our relationship." Negan took a step forward but Lucille raised her hand and pointed to the kitchen table. "Don't take another step. Your stuff is in that box." Negan looked to see a cardboard box sitting alone in the dark kitchen, his belongings poking out of the top. "I never want to see you in my house again."

"Lucille, can't we just talk about this? You don't understand." He pleased, extending a hand to her. She batted it away.

"There's nothing to talk about." She spat "You cheated on me, Negan! What is there to understand? How can you expect me to forgive you for that?" A moment of silence passed between them. The other woman shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Negan glared at her before turning his eyes back to his now ex-fiancé.

"I have no where to stay." He whispered.

"That's not my problem." Lucille said boldly "Take your shit and leave. Don't come back. We're done."

~~~

I stirred the pot of spaghetti while humming a song I heard on a radio earlier. The father-daughter activities had consisted of driving around town and revisiting old spots we used to go to when I was younger. We got ice cream at the shop down the street and then watched the sun set at the park that we used to picnic at. It was nice. College did really fix our relationship. The TV in the next room hummed quietly and Rick was talking on the phone with someone. I heard him hang up and walk into the kitchen.

"Think there's enough in there for three?" He asks with a sigh, looking over my shoulder.

"Should be, why?" I return, meeting his gaze. He takes a deep breath and scratches his neck.

"Um, well, Negan's fiancé kicked him out of the house. Apparently she found out he was cheating on her. He doesn't have anywhere to stay." He mumbled "He's gonna be sleeping here for a bit." I stopped stirring. The water started to bubble too close to the top, but I blew a gust of air to push it down.

"Why here?" was all I could muster.

"He really helped me with your mom. It's the least I can do."

I just hummed in acknowledgement and returned to my cooking. So Negan was engaged. And he CHEATED on his fiancé? Maybe I didn't know Negan as well as I thought I did...

~~~

"I just can't believe she kicked me out!" Negan seethed, shoveling a spoonful of spaghetti into his mouth. He was still chewing when he continued. "She didn't even give me a chance to explain myself!"

"I hate to say it, but you did cheat on her, buddy," Rick said carefully, not wanting to poke the angry alpha in the wrong way "She's upset."

"I was in a rut." Negan growled.

"For four months?"

I was making a plate for myself, listening to the conversation from across the room. Rick's phone buzzed on the kitchen table and he picked it up.

"Sorry, I have to take this." He sighed, shaking his head and standing to his feet. He left the room and suddenly it was just me and Negan. I took my plate to the opposite head of the table, watching Negan wolf down his dinner.

"This shit is really good, sweetheart," He groaned. Normally, the noise would have sent me over the moon. But there were so many other emotions clouding my mind. "You ever consider changing your major to culinary arts?" I didn't say anything, just twirled my fork in my serving of pasta.

"Why'd you do it?" I said quietly, almost in a whisper. Negan paused instantly.

"What?"

"Why'd you cheat on her?" My eyes never left my plate but I could hear him shifting in his seat, rubbing his face while trying to answer my question.

"I don't know," He said. His voice was soft, sincere. Something I had never heard from him before. My eyes drifted up and met his. They were the same tawny color, but there was something else behind them. Something I couldn't distinguish. "I thought...Something was off in our relationship. I guess I thought that I could fix it by trying something different. I ran into Tanya at a bar a few months ago. She's a beta, just like Lucille. Wanted to be with an alpha. I gave in. Just for a quick fuck, didn't mean anything. I didn't like her. I told her that but...she...she wanted more, I guess. She fucking threatened me. Threatened to ruin my life unless I kept seeing her. I chose to do it. I don't know if that decision was the right one or not but it's the one I made. I texted her last night to tell her it was over. Never fucking thought she would come to my home." I was chewing the inside of my cheek the whole time he was speaking. I didn't know how much of his story was true, but he sounded like he was hurting.

"Why did you break it off?" I whispered.

"That's your damn question?" He scoffed, giving a short smile. He looked in my eyes. I knew the answer. Or at least I thought I did. He opened his mouth, but Rick reentered the room before he could say anything.

"Alright, sorry about that guys," He said, slipping back into his seat. "What did I miss?"

~~~

Negan was set up in the bedroom next door to mine. Our doors faced each other from across the hall. We would have to share a bathroom. Rick didn't seem to have a problem with it, but with my heat starting I wasn't too sure about the whole arrangement. I felt more cramps riddle my body. I was ready to bed, ready to curl up in a ball and go to sleep, but something called me across the hall. Curiosity got me and I turned slightly, walking up and leaning on the doorframe. There was Negan, clad in grey sweatpants and a black tank top, unpacking his things.

"Hey," I said quietly, not wanting to startle him. He turned around. He looked older like this, hair unkempt and his glasses on. When he saw me his lips curled in a smile. Any trace of vulnerability I had seen earlier was now gone.

"Hey to you."

"I just want to apologize for earlier," I said "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm also sorry that you have to be subjected to me and my dad for the foreseeable future." He let out a snicker and shook his head.

"Don't worry about it, doll. And you're not that bad. I appreciate Rick; he's a good man." He scratched his beard and looked over at the clock next to the bed. "It's late, you should get some rest." He took a deep breath and I nodded. I turned to leave but he called my name softly. "You know I meant what I said last night, you are looking good." I smiled but didn't say anything and crossed the hall, shutting my door and hopping into bed.

[shorkbrian]

Jerk

Oh Jesus y’all I can’t handle these thirsts they’re making em flustered as heck oh no.

oh frick but really doe Bakugou is soooo mean and he’s probably the type that’s into degrading and humiliating his partner, totally has dacryphilia and can’t get off unless you’re crying big, fat, salty tears. He honestly likes you, likes having you around and enjoys your additions in class discussion. But you’re just so easy to bully, he can’t help himself. He tells you it’s your fault, if you put up more of a fight he’d back off. If you didn’t just take his insults and jabs at your character lying down, he’d leave you alone. But he never would. nasty dude.

(College au lol)

TW - noncon, NSFW, handjob, crying, Bakugou is not nice but what's new.

Sometimes he’ll corner you on campus, knows you have evening classes and waits to haul you behind the building as soon as your class ends. Talking to you in a quiet, dangerous voice as he forces you back there, his hot hands gripping your arm (far too tightly), his erection brushing against your ass with each agonizing step.

“Hey (Y/N), you little bitch, did’ya miss me? No? Too bad.”

“You better shut your whore mouth, don’t want the entire campus knowing how much of slut you are. Saying “stop” isn’t going to make me do anything but fuck you harder, stupid bitch.”

“What’re you gonna do, tell someone? Who’s gonna believe a pathetic little extra like you, hmm? I’m their quarterback baby, they can’t afford to lose me. No, you’ll fucking do whatever I say.”

Once behind the building, pressed against the wall, he’ll slap your face, once, twice. Red paints your cheeks, and you’re already crying at the sting. Bakugou just grins, enjoying every second as he squishes your face in his hand, bringing his face close to yours. So close, you can feel each hot puff of air on his every exhale. So close, you can see the beauty of his ruby red eyes, darker maroon flecking the bright iris. Pity Bakugou was so mean.

A beat passed, the two of you just looking at each other, breathing each other’s air. Then he kissed you, mashing your lips together, squeezing your jaw until you opened your mouth, let him inside like you always did.

When he pulled away, you were gasping for air, hand coming up to wipe at the tears streaming down your face. Bakugou huffed, before planting both hands on your chest and pushing. You let out a distressed cry as you were shoved backwards, loosing your balance and falling down into the dirt. You’d probably have bruises later. Who were you kidding, you were with Bakugou. Of course you’d have bruises later.

The blonde crouched down, cocking his head to the side as he watched you, eery smile on his face. You didn’t like that look. You scrambled backwards, pushing at the dirt and scuffing your hands until your back hit a wall. Bakugou stayed where he was.

“You’re so fucking stupid, only thing you’re good at is being a shitty little toy for others to push around. You realize that? That’s all you are. Nothing. Worthless little pussy on legs.”

His words stung, and you had to scrub at your eyes again, wiping away the fresh wave of tears. In doing so, you didn’t notice him stand up, stalk closer, until he was towering over your sitting form. When he “tch’ed” you jumped, looking up.

“Get the fuck up.”

You hesitated.

A hand grabbed your hair, Bakugou’s face twisting into a snarl.

“Now.”

You rose as quickly as possible, finding yourself face-to-face with your aggressor once again. Well, face-to-chest. Then you were flipped around, shoved against the wall of the building as hands began kneading at your chest.

“Mmm, shit baby, you’re always so damn soft.”

A gasp escaped you when he started pinching, grasp becoming firmer and more demanding until it hurt, the man pulling at your chest now. The hard, considerable bulge of his erection was humping against your ass slowly, as if Bakugou was savoring each little thrust of his hips.

“So easy. Bet you would bend over for anyone who asked, wouldn’t you? Slut. You’re just a little cockwhore, ain’t that right?”

He took a few steps back, pulling you with him until he could bend you at the waist, still grinding against you. But in this position, his cock was pressed against your clothed cunt, delivering delicious friction to your clit. You resisted the urge to wriggle your hips in order to chase that feeling. “Hey - “  A slap landed across your ass, and even through your jeans, you could feel it burn. “I asked you a question bitch. Answer me.”

You whimpered.

“Y-y-yes Bakugou..... I am.”

“You’re what? I didn’t quite hear that last part. ”

You could hear the sneer in his voice, wincing at the pressure as Bakugou groped at your chest.

“A-a cockwhore.”

“Fuck yeah you are, I can feel you getting wet down here.” He pulled away from your body, lending you relief for a half a second before he smacked your cunt, hard. “You’re so desperate!”

He was gleeful as he turned you around again, pushing you into the wall. He was always pushing. Pushing over your books the first time he met you, pushing your boundaries, pushing for you to come up to his dorm while his roommates are out, pushing your sanity.

You shuddered as the blond unzipped his jeans, groaning as the zipper pressed against his dick as he pulled it down.

Closing your eyes, you swallowed. You didn’t know what he was going to do next, didn’t want to see the manic look on his face as he decided which part of your body to get off on today.

You weren’t surprised when you felt his hands grab yours. He pushed himself flush against you, and you knew without looking that his cock was standing up proudly, bobbing against his stomach. If you breathed in too far, expanded your lungs, your could feel it twitch against your abdomen. You tried to take short breaths.

His hands guided yours to wrap around his dick, and the second you felt the hot flesh touch your hand, that’s when the waterworks really started. You were crying uncontrollably as Bakugou forced your hands around him, thrusting upwards shallowly, head dropping to your shoulder with a choked-off groan. He wasn’t squeezing your hands too tight, enjoying the soft, loose grip for now.

When the man grew impatient of this, he let go of one of your hands, reaching up at swipe at your face. He was trying to wet his hand with your tears.

‘C’mon (Y/N), keep crying.”

You were bawling, tears dripping off your chin, snot beginning to flow from your nose. Just like Bakugou liked it. He kept on wiping at your face, collecting the tears and snot and drool, before rubbing his hand on his cock. Then he’d make you jerk him, testing to see if it was wet enough for his comfort. The more time passed, the more tears fell.

It took a bit, but finally Bakugou was satisfied with the amount of wetness coating his cock. Grabbing your free hand again, he guided it back to his cock. When you struggled to rip our hands away, his grip just tightened, crushing your digits between his hands and his cock.

There was no preamble, no gentle beginning. Bakugou was thrusting like a mad-man, head once again on your shoulder. You could hear him moaning softly, above the slick sounds of the messy handjob. It was sickening. 

When his hips kicked up another notch, plump balls smacking into your wrists with each thrust, you knew he was close. It took just a few more frantic pumps of his hips before Bakugou was spilling over, hot cum dripping out, leaking onto your hands and dripping down to your shoes.

You tried to pull away again, letting out a desperate sob as Bakugou kept your hands anchored, his hips still moving, almost grinding himself up into your hands. His breath was stuttered, heavy and panting in your ear.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, oh that felt damn good.”

Finally he released your hands. 

Reigning back in your sobs, you looked at them, fingers dripping and palm wet and sticky with the mans cum. You hated him so much.

The sound of pants being zippered drew your attention, head snapping up to look at Bakugou. He was watching you intently, wiping his own hands against his jeans. A sigh of relief. Usually he tried to fuck you, or get you off. It looked like tonight he would be satisfied with just a handjob. You were going to go shower until your skin peeled off, then sleep for a day or two, classes be damned.

“Wipe it onto your slutty little cunt.”

...

“What?? B-b-bakugou you-”

“Wipe it onto your. cunt.”

He leveled you with a glare, hands crossing over his chest. You were frozen.

“Geez bitch, do I need to do it for you? Just fuckin’ wipe that shit onto your pussy, it’s not that hard.”

Trembling, you obeyed, wincing was you stuffed your hands past your jeans, past your underwear. You cringed when you felt how wet your slit was, how inflamed and puffy you felt down there from Bakugou’s teasing rutting earlier. Bakugou watched with a smirk as you pressed your hands against yourself, doing your best to wipe off his cum. 

When you finished, the man looped an arm around your waist, causing you to squeak in alarm. You recoiled from his touch, breathing hard, but he wouldn’t let go.

“What, you thought you were done? Thought a fuckin’ lame excuse for a handjob would satisfy me? God - “ He snickered loudly, beginning to pull you along, forced to walk beside him “ - You really are a stupid slut.”

You bit your lip, tears still wetting your lashes. It was uncomfortable to walk with the amount of wet in your underwear, the thought of Bakugou’s cum just sitting there making your stomach roll, tensing.

“Can’t wait ‘till we get back to my place; shitty roommates are gone for a few days, thank fuck. Can finally try edging you all night, use your body like a toy and shit like that. Fuck, I’m excited.”

You were going to throw up. 

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Cross The Line•

Summary: “And they were roommates” predictable self induldent Denki roommate content lmao. Friends to lovers, pretty fluffy

Pairing: Denki Kaminari x FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: Itty bitty angst, Lots o’ tension, Unprotected sex, Oral sex (female receiving), Quirk use during sex, Cumplay.

Word count: 6,984

A/N: Y'all I did it I wrote mostly plot are y'all proud of me for not being useless and horni for one fic. I mean it gets horni at the end but there is plot so yeehaw.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Son of a bitch!” You yell as you hurl the eyeliner across the bathroom, at your wits end after messing up for the third time. It hits the door with a sharp crack before it falls to the floor.

You kick the cabinet, successfully stubbing your toe in the process.

“Shit, shit shit shit.” You tumble backwards as you hop on one foot, planting your ass right on the toilet lid with a loud groan.

“You remodeling in here?” A chirpy voice says from the other side of the door.

“Fuck off, Denki.” You bark as you hold your busted toe.

He just chuckles as he opens the door and strides in, he leans back against the counter and crosses his arms while you scowl up at him.

His signature smirk is painted across his face, yellow hair sticking up in every direction. As usual, he’s going without a shirt, leaving him in just a pair of loose basketball shorts.

They hang just a little too low, exposing the waistband of his briefs, framing his defined adonis belt…

“You’re gonna need a bucket for all that drool.” He says, raising his eyebrows as his smirk grows into a smile.

“Oh please, I was noticing how scrawny you look.” You retort, letting your foot drop to the floor so you can stand.

“You got a date?” He nods at your dress, eyes lingering at the slit that exposes just a little too much thigh.

You and Denki are just roommates, that’s it. You’re also both incredibly horny, bisexual disasters. Naturally, there’s attraction, lingering stares, and moments of tension, but it never goes past that.

Just roommates. You can’t cross that line. Kirishima had introduced you two after meeting in class one day, convinced you would hit it off. You sure as hell did. You cliqued pretty much instantly, both full of chaotic dumbass energy.

Eventually, Kirishima moved in with his boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugo. This left Denki with no roommate, which meant you got an invitation.

You were hesitant at first, moving in with somebody after a few months of friendship was a big step, but you and Denki just worked. Neither of you kept a schedule, you shared one brain cell, and you always made each other laugh.

So, of course you moved in. Two years later, it’s still you and Denki against the world. You take care of each other, he’ll bring you candy and a heating pad when you’re on your period, you’ll make him soup and play with his hair when he’s sick.

You’ve seen each other naked, heard each other have sex, and helped each other score hookups. You pick each other up when you’re sloppy drunk, and nurse each other through the hangover the next day.

You have not, and will not, cross the line of a sexual relationship with each other. You can’t afford to, neither of you can lose the movie nights, the screaming bad music in the car together, or the two in the morning waffle house runs.

“I did, but I’m not going.” You huff as you stomp over to the sink so you can wash off the makeup.

“I can’t get this stupid eyeliner right, I’ve tried like a million times and I can’t fucking do it.” You scrub your face a little too hard, turning your skin a bit red in the process.

“Want me to do it?” He asks, he says it like it’s obvious. It kind of is, the kid is wicked good at eyeliner, he does it nearly every day.

“If you pinky promise you won’t make me look stupid and sabotage my date.” You glare at him, hinting at a time when he did in fact sabotage a date.

“That was one time, which you thanked me for in the end, because the dude was a total fuckboy.” He holds up his hands in a defensive posture.

“You’re a total fuckboy, and you did not have to tell him I had fucking herpes.” You throw your wet rag at him, which he catches skillfully.

“I’m a whore, not a fuckboy. Big difference.” He says as he tosses the rag onto the side of the sink.

“What would that be?” You ask as you bend down to retrieve the eyeliner before handing it to him begrudgingly.

He accepts it with a grin, golden eyes lighting up as he pulls the cap off of the felt pen before giving it a good shake.

“Fuckboys are so selfish, they always leave someone wanting.” He shifts so he’s standing in front of you as you lean back against the counter.

He places one hand under your chin so you’ll tilt your face up for him.

“A whore keeps someone satisfied.” His voice drops slightly as he looks down at you.

You don’t look down at his lips, or his collar bones, or his abs…

“You’re such a flirt.” You say, crossing your arms, trying to put something between the two of you.

“Hell yeah I am, now close those eyes for me.” He winks and you roll your eyes before closing them.

His hand slides up from your chin so you can hold the side of your face, his thumb lifts your eyelid slightly.

The feeling of his hand touching your face so gently shouldn’t make your heart rate increase, the feeling of his breath on your face shouldn’t make your knees a little unsteady. Most of all, Denki being this close shouldn’t be making you this dizzy.

You’ve walked in on him jerking it, you’ve even walked in on him balls deep in somebody else. You and Denki are close, you’ve stood this close before, with less clothing, why does it all of a sudden feel so different? No, it doesn’t. It can’t.

You feel the felt tip of the eyeliner press into your eyelid, he moves so fluently. He flicks his wrist at the end of the line, he shifts and does the other eye with the same precision.

“Open.” You do as he says, blinking up at him, raising your eyebrows in question as he looks you over.

A pleased smile creeps onto his face.

“You’re real pretty, ya know?” He says softly, grabbing your chin gently so he can turn your face from one side to the other.

The compliment makes your cheeks grow warmer. Your eyes dart down as you shift on your feet a little bit.

“You’re a sap.” You grumble before turning to check his work in the mirror.

It’s perfect, just a delicate little wing that enhances your eye shape. Perfect for a first date, Denki has always been better at makeup, and it’s always driven you just a little insane.

“What else are you gonna do?” He asks, making eye contact with you through the mirror.

“What do you mean?” You say as you grab your mascara and start applying it.

“Well are you gonna do anything with this?” He ruffles the top of your hair, you drop the mascara so you can bat his hand away.

“Dude, knock it off.” You say, you try to sound pissed, but start laughing when he wraps his arm around your neck so he can put you in a headlock.

“Only if you let me fix the rat’s nest on your head.” He laughs as you struggle to pull his arm off.

“I can do my own hair you sparky bastard.” You reach over and pinch his side.

He yelps and releases you from the hold, he raises his hands up and gives you a mischievous look.

“Oh, you want sparky?” Small snaps of electricity start to emit from his palms.

“Denki Kaminari, if you zap me I will suplex you.” You warn him, looking around for something you can grab to defend yourself with.

He’s much quicker than you though, and his arms around your waist in an instant. He hoists you up into the air and sits your ass on the counter. You feel the little shocks popping at your sides as he pushes you so your back is pressed against the mirror. Your senses are invaded by his warmth and the smell of Axe body spray, a smell you’ve grown to love.

“Denki, no! This shit always makes my hair all frizzy!” You protest as involuntary giggles leave your chest.

“Aw, sweetheart, are you sayin’ you can feel electricity between us?” He wiggles his eyebrows as his fingers stall.

“I will puke on you if you say any more cheesy shit.” You warn him, trying to keep your face straight, but you crack up at the melodramatic expression that crosses his face.

Then he delivers a particularly strong zap to the meat of your hip.

You don’t have time to control the way your body reacts. There’s no chance for you to keep your back arches, or the way you let out a fuck. The way you shiver is a little too intimate, your voice a little too broken. All of which Denki pays a little too much attention to.

You both settle and freeze, his sharp eyes meet yours. You’ve seen Denki Kaminari look serious a grand total of twice in the time you’ve known him. The first time was when you were ridiculously sick last winter, fever and chill with the works. The second time is now.

He watches you carefully, one eyebrow shooting up.

“Did that tickle?” He questions, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“It- yeah- it also fucking hurt, asshole.” You grumble, pushing at his chest so you can hop off the counter.

You try to shove past him with your head down, desperate to get out from under the weighty tension in the bathroom. Denki grabs you around the wrist though, stopping you in your tracks.

Your eyes meet as another wave of nerves washes over your body.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” His voice is steady, but tentative.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Your voice is just above a whisper.

Though, there certainly was.

You both stand there for a brief beat of thick silence, watching, waiting. You must imagine the way his lip twitches, the way his body shifts forward slightly…

No fucking way.

You turn on your heels and make your way out of the bathroom quickly.

You’re in your room with the door closed in no time. You lean against the back of it, catching the breath you didn’t realize you had lost.

What the hell was that? And why did it feel so… good?

No. Fuck no. Not with Denki.

You get ready in a huff, positively full of angst and confusion.

You shove it all down. It’s normal, right? To have a bit of tension with somebody you know so well, live so closely with, care for so deeply. You and Denki know each other. That’s all.

Your outfit isn’t much, but it’s enough for a first day. The colors are flattering against your complexion, the fabric clings in the right places. It’s nice, just nice.

You walk quietly from your room to the living room where Denki is sitting on the couch, legs spread wide with an arm across the back. Looking absolutely delicious- fuck- no not delicious. He just looks like Denki.

“That’s cute.” He says, he motions up and down with his phone, directing his comment at your outfit.

“Thanks.” You say a little too shortly, feeling the guilt immediately.

“I’ll be home later.” You say as you grab your keys from the dish.

“Be safe.” He calls after you.

Fuck.

***

Your date is an absolute disaster, nothing short of a trainwreck. It’s one of those dates that drains you. You politely nod as they ramble on about themselves, laugh at the bad and very insensitive jokes, and indulge in the small talk. Most of all, you miss Denki. You contribute very little, enjoy nothing, and wait for the end of the dreadful two hours you set aside for this.

You pay for dinner quickly, declining their offer for drinks, giving some bullshit excuse about having to work in the morning and being tired. You’re off tomorrow, and you’re wide awake.

You’re itching to get back to your apartment, dying to tell Denki all about your date’s wet cardboard personality. Hopefully, the bizarre moment you shared in the bathroom will be ignored and buried.

Never to be seen again.

You bust into the apartment, shuck off your bag and kick off your shoes. Denki is no longer on the couch, but at the kitchen table huddled over a cup of tea. The lights are all low or off, leaving him in mostly darkness. His posture is odd, slouched, defeated almost.

“Who died?” You try to joke, usually able to earn a chuckle with that line.

Denki doesn’t chuckle though, he sniffles.

“Sparky? What’s wrong?” You’re on him instantly, feet moving on their own.

Your hands are on the sides of his face, pulling up so he has to look at you. Your heart clenches and your chest burns as soon as the small amount of light catches his face.

His left cheek is painted with a deep red and purple bruise. His bright eyes search your face as you take the sight in, and you’re suddenly filled with fiery rage when you see how heartbroken he looks.

“Who the fuck-”

“It was my fault.” He cuts you off, grabbing your wrists so he can pull your hands off his face.

“Denki, what-”

“I told him we would hook up, so he thought we would. When I got there he had a bad vibe so I tried to leave… but he didn’t like that and he-”

You hush him when his breathing picks up, when you see tears well and his lip quiver.

“Hey, it’s ok, you’re ok.” You pull him against your chest, making a mental note to find and throttle the bastard that did this.

But that can wait. You and Denki had both returned from dates fairly busted up. The bruises were always one that were wanted though, never like this. A bad date was always laughed over, never cried over. The very thought of somebody laying their hands on Denki like this… it makes your skin crawl, it makes you want to kill.

His arms are around your waist immediately, hands grabbing as your clothes, pulling you closer. You hold each other for a long while until you feel his leg start bouncing and his fingers start to twitch.

You pull back and look down at him. He looks so displaced, so frantic and caught off guard. He needs something to do. Something to focus on. You can tell he’s not ready to talk, but he’s ready to be distracted, talking will come later.

“Will you help me get this shit off my face?” You ask gently, sliding your hand through his hair.

He blinks hard before wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Yeah- shit- I’m sorry, how was your date?” He asks, doing a shit job as pulling himself together.

“Don’t be sorry. It was awful. All they talked about was their college glory days.” You sigh, thumb running over his forehead.

“That didn’t win you? What’s wrong with you?” He asks, voice dripping with sarcasm.

There he is, or at least he’s trying.

“I missed you the whole time.” It slips out, runs away from you. You mean it though, god do you mean it.

He looks up at you with that same uneasy, distraught look. It almost makes you buckle. You feel pulled to fall into his lap, wrap yourself around him and press sweet kisses into his neck. You can’t, you know you can’t. He would probably be pissed if you crossed that line.

He doesn’t answer, he just nods silently, eyes falling to the ground as he stands up.

“Let’s get that shit off your face.”

You end up perched on the counter again as he wipes your makeup off with a warm cloth. It may seem backwards, him taking care of you, to most people it is. During your time together, you’ve learned that Denki feels useless if he isn’t helping.

When something is hurting him, he’s healed by pouring into someone else, so you let him. You’ll ice his bruise later, bring him water and medicine once you help him scratch this itch.

He takes his time with you, wiping away the makeup he did for you. The dull ache returns to your chest as he works. The soft glow of the bathroom nightlight is your only illumination, giving the room a painfully intimate environment.

He slowly wipes the cloth across your forehead one last time, laying it on the sink before bringing his hand up to hold your chin like he had earlier. You can’t help but glance at his bruise and simply hurt deep inside. You hate that you weren’t there, that you couldn’t stop it.

He breathes for a moment, looking at the planes of your face, eyes lingering in your lips for a bit too long.

“Pretty…” It’s a soft confession, something far too tender for the nature of your relationship.

His admittance settles somewhere deep within you, it wraps itself around your heart and warms it. It’s almost overwhelming and definitely terrifying.

“Do you need to eat?” You kill the building flames immediately, stamp them out with a stubborn foot.

He doesn’t mean it, he’s just vulnerable, he’s just emotional. You’d be an asshole to give into it.

“I could eat.” He sighs.

***

“This is so fucking stupid.” Denki laughs, irritated by the default plot line of the chick flick on tv.

You had ordered your favorite takeout, too much of it, to share as you watch. Slowly, you had pulled him out of his shaken state. With plenty of talk about your awful date, several good laughs, and the occasional soft spoken “you’re okay”. Denki is now settled with his head in your lap as he criticizes the lazy drama of the film.

“Why won’t they just stop being stupid and just… like each other?” He whines, gesturing at the tv with an inpatient hand.

“Dude they can’t. It would ruin the tension for them to like each other right now.” You explain.

He sits up and huffs before grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“But they could work. They could really work.” He says as he stuffs his face.

He seems so genuinely thoughtful, despite his grievances with the quality of the movie, he’s involved.

“Maybe they could.” You say, watching him instead of the movie.

He feels it when he looks at you, squeezing his ribs, trickling down his spine. The overwhelming, almost blind urge to lean in and kiss you. But he can’t, so he doesn’t.

“Could they?” He whispers.

You’re both frozen, trapped in the beam that’s suddenly shining down on you. It exposes every crack and corner of your relationship, leaving you both ripped open and afraid.

He’s leaning in again like he did in the bathroom, closer and closer and closer… until he grabs his damn drink.

Fuck.

A blush spreads across your cheeks, stomach aching with embarrassment. You pull back, shoving yourself under a blanket. You weren’t too obvious, right? You didn’t lean in too much… right?

He takes a long sip then sets the drink down harshly, not enough to make you jump, but enough to make you pay attention.

“Can we stop, please?” He says as he stands up, he runs his hands through his hair and huffs before he starts to pace.

“What?” You ask, trying to sound as oblivious as possible.

“Dude.” He turns on you, looking exhausted, eyes begging you for something.

“Denki- I, you need sleep…” You stand up and start to tidy, not really doing anything though. Just picking up cups and setting them down to look busy.

“I don’t need sleep.” He snaps before grabbing you by the shoulders. His eyes are wild, frantic, searching.

“What do you need?” You ask, hands shaking at your sides. His body sags, hands releasing you so he can hug himself.

“I don’t know.” It’s short and rushed, and he leaves you no time to respond before he storms off to his bedroom. His feet stomp, the door slams, and you fall to the couch in a heap.

This cannot be happening, not to you and Denki. You both just need sleep, you just need to brush it off and start again tomorrow. He’s emotional. He’s just emotional.

You turn the TV off, sneering at the couple kissing on it. You clean up slowly, setting dishes in the sink to be done tomorrow.

It’s ok. You’re ok. Emotions run high after bad dates, after traumatic events. It’s human nature. That’s all, you and Denki will be ok, you always are.

Your shoulders draw up when you hear his door open again, staying busy at the sink as you heard him walk into the kitchen.

“Can we talk about it?” His voice is unsteady, it tugs on your heart as you spin to face him.

“Talk about wha-”

“Please. Don’t.” He sighs as he steps towards you.

He’s too damn pretty when he’s tired. His cheeks get all pink, with glassy eyes and a shiny nose. Even with his busted cheek bone, he’s so… pretty.

Denki’s feelings have always run hot, he loves fast and hurts deeply. You can’t even begin to imagine the tsunami of emotion he must have pounding against his chest. You see it in his eyes though, something is breaking him.

“We could work.” He closes the distance between you even more, giving you no room to hide once your backside hits the counter.

“Denki…” You put your hands on his chest, trying to put something between you two, trying to cling to the line that’s been drawn.

“We could. Just- you don’t have to answer. Just think about it.” And then he’s gone again, away to hide in his room. Leaving you shocked and overwhelmed.

We could work.

You could, and you know it, you’re just not ready to accept it.

***

Sleep doesn’t come well, or even at all. You do think about it, all night. It’s the only thing on your mind as you toss and turn and huff. The sun is already peaking up into the sky, bathing your room in a hazy glow.

We could work.

Just because you could, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be foolish of you to try. This is a friendship neither of you can afford to lose. You have some confidence that it could indeed withstand an awkward attempt at a relationship… but what if the attempt wasn’t awkward? Denki had told you, drunkenly, how much he loved you. He slept next to you when you cried, held you and talked you down. He knew how many sugars to put in your coffee and how you never bothered to match your socks.

Over time, Denki had memorized you as a person, and you had done the same for him. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to have in a partner? Someone who knows you, someone who makes it safe to be known.

Knock knock

It’s a courtesy knock, something he does to let you know he’s coming in. You never keep your door locked, and he’s always allowed in.

“Mornin’.” He says with a scratchy voice as he peaks into your room.

Fucking hell. Why does he have to be so pretty all the time?

“Mornin’.” You reply

You pull the blankets up around your chest, you realize now you’re in one of his t-shirts, not uncommon, but entirely too intimate given recent events.

He sits on the edge of your bed, all messy hair and puffy eyes. He offers you one of the coffee cups he’s holding, and it smells divine. You accept it as you sit up right, crossing your legs and clinging to your blankets.

His bruise is darker, yellow around the edges with deep red and purple splotches. It gives your chest the same tight feeling, something helpless and angry.

“I’m sorry, I was out of line.” He says quietly.

“You were right, I was emotional and I needed sleep and I definitely shouldn’t have dumped it on you.”

He fidgets while he talks, leg bouncing as his fingers dance around his mug. You reach out to rub his back, but he flinches. He fucking flinches.

Neither of you speak, but you meet each other’s eyes. He looks sorry, so sorry. He looks embarrassed and scared and guilty.

Slowly, you grab both cups and set them on your nightstand. You open your arms to him, still not speaking, not opening the door for him to apologise for something that isn’t his fault.

He falls into you easily, arms around your waist with his face against your neck. He crumbles there, unable to articulate, only able to cry. You hold him close, rub circles in his back and play with his hair. You let him go as long as he needs to, sitting with him, hurting with him.

“Denki?” You tread carefully, using your softest voice.

He looks up then, with a rosey face and searching eyes.

“You’re safe here. You’re safe with me.”

Something you’ve never seen before flashes in his eyes, something soft and warm, something that makes you want to fall forward into him like he just did with you.

You don’t, though, you stay still.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

Then, with all the caution and care in the world, he places a kiss on your forehead. It’s so simple, it’s been done a million times between the two of you, but it sits differently in your chest this time. It stays there, taking up space, spreading through you. That feeling of wanting to cross a line.

“Do you want to make breakfast?” He asks as he wipes at his face with his sleeves.

“Of course. You want those big ass waffles I make?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood.

His grin is slow to appear, but it does appear, and it’s as dazzling as always.

“I always want some big ass waffles.”

***

The rest of the day is spent in close proximity with each other, not unusual, but like everything else the past twenty four hours, it feels different.

You share you sit with knees touching while you eat your waffles, pee with the door open, he puts the toothpaste on your toothbrush for you. It’s all so normal for you two, but god it feels so different. It feels more important, it feels more… wholesome? Maybe? Not quite, that word isn’t entirely applicable. Neither you to Denki are wholesome in any capacity. Then a horrible thought scrambles into your mind.

It feels romantic. It feels domestic. It feels like a relationship.

It hits you while you’re helping him clean up the mess you’ve made cooking dinner. It’s in the way his hand ghosts over your waist when he slides behind you, the way he gets you more to eat without asking him to, the way makes you laugh so naturally.

Fuck.

You love him, you know this as a fact. You love him more than anyone, he knows you inside and out and you know him. You’re just now realizing in exactly what way you love him. He holds your hair when you puke, he rubs your back when you cramp, he pretends to be your boyfriend to scare off bad dates. He loves you too.

“Denki.” Your voice is quiet, your hands shake.

“Can we talk about it?”

His whole body tenses as he sets down the plate he was rinsing. He turns slowly, as if to avoid frightening you.

“Can we?” He asks gently, hopefully.

You step towards him, twisting your fingers around each other anxiously.

“This… works, doesn’t it?” You ask, awkwardly gesturing between the two of you.

He closes more of the distance, standing only inches from you.

“It does, and it could.” He says gently.

“What If it doesn’t?” You wonder out loud, fear creeping up your spine.

“Then it doesn’t.” He says simply.

“And we’ll be ok?”

“We’ll be ok.”

You stand in silence, keeping an eye on each other as you both process the information. He does that leaning thing again, like he wants to be closer. Then you panic.

“But it would be stupid.” You say as you turn away, wringing your hands around each other while you pace. He lets out a sigh and throws his hands up, exhausted with the back and forth.

“Right, because you and I would never do anything stupid.” His voice is rough, impatient, unfamiliar.

“We can’t afford to be stupid with this, dude. Can’t you see that?” You argue.

“Then we can be careful with it, we can start slow, we can ease into it.” He’s nearly begging, stepping towards you again.

“Ease into what!?” You turn on him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t play dumb.” He crosses his arms, you mirror him, both skittish, both afraid.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and we won’t talk about it ever again. You have my word.” He offers, but he doesn’t want to.

You stand there, weighing your options, chest seizing as you watch his vibrant eyes search your face.

You can’t tell him you don’t want it. You can’t lie to him.

“I- Denki… I can’t lose you. We can’t fuck this up.” You feel tears prick at your eyes and a tightness in your throat, the very idea of being without your best friend makes you panic.

“You won’t fucking lose me. You have me, all of me. We won’t fuck this up if we just keep doing what we do.” He tries to keep his voice calm, but he breaks a little.

Another moment of heavy silence is spent between you, chests rising and falling rapidly, hands twitching as minds race.

Denying this any longer would be a crime, a horrible waste of time. Something snaps then, something gives in, and the line is crossed.

His hands are at the side of your face and his forehead falls against yours. Breath is hot, hands are needy, hearts are aching.

“Please, god, please.” You grab at his wrists, not to push him off, to pull him in, keep him close.

“I want you, need you, please.” You confess.

And then your soul is in flames. He shudders and his lips are on yours as soon as he can get them there. All at once, and not soon enough, the line you had both been clinging to is crossed. His hands hold your face so tightly as he works his lips against yours, kissing you with all he has left, letting loose all the times he’s wanted to before. It’s all consuming, it’s mind numbing, it’s (no pun intended) fucking electric.

He walks you back as he kisses you urgently until your ass hits the counter, his hands are on the backs of your thighs instantly. He whispers a quick jump against your lips. You do exactly that.

Now seated on the counter, you spread your legs so he can settle between them. He slides in perfectly, lips still hot and greedy against your own. His hands cling to your hips while yours claw at his back.

He breaks from you, panting with his pupils blown wide.

“Can we do something stupid?” He asks between puffs of air.

“Please, Denki, please.” You sigh, grabbing at his shirt. He grabs it by the collar and rips it off, revealing the body you’ve seen so often, but now you get to know it.

“I wanna taste your pussy.” He whispers before pressing his open mouth against your neck.

The words send a shock all the way down your body. The sparks fly and then settle between your legs where you feel his hard length pressing against your heat.

“Haven’t shaved.” You say, slightly embarrassed.

“Like I fucking care.” And then his hands are at your clothes, pulling them off and throwing them away until you’re left completely bare for him.

His skin feels like heaven against yours, warm and dewy and right.

“Gonna make you feel so good, fuck.” The last word is said with a tone of disbelief.

His hands slide up your sides, gathering your breasts so he can tease your nipples with his thumbs.

He smirks against your neck when you gasp and arch against him, pushing your bodies even closer together.

“Sensitive little thing, aren’t you?” He taunts.

“You’re talking too much.” You let out a breathy laugh at his teasing before planting your hand on top of his head and pushing him down.

He gladly falls to his knees, he throws one of your legs over his shoulder like it’s life or death before finally looking at your soaked center.

“Oh my fucking god.” He sighs.

“I wanna tease you but holy hell, I gotta-” He’s on you before you can brace at all, his tongue licks along your slit slowly, almost reverently.

And then he moans. It’s something whiney, something achey, escaping from the back of his throat.

He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t pull away, he finds the spot that makes you jump and sets up camp. He kitten licks your clit until your hands are pulling at his hair as you gasp above him.

It’s all so much, it’s all so good. Especially when he finally presses two fingers into you. He steps a gentle pace, a soothing push and pull that feels incredible. He works and works and works until your thighs are trembling and you’re babbling praises.

“Denki- fuck- there, right there, fuck fuck fuck.” He eats you so sweetly, with so much precision.

You almost anticipated him being more reckless, more sloppy. He isn’t though, he takes his time, learning your sweet spots, finding the angle that makes you crumble.

And he does.

You reach your end when he flattens his tongue and curls his fingers, massaging every part of you. His name falls from your lips in a broken cry, hands tug at his hair as your thighs squeeze his head.

He helps you through it, licking and fingering slowly to ease you back down, letting you feel every last nerve erupt in pleasure.

“Fuck that was perfect, you’re so fucking sweet.” He sighs against you.

You don’t answer, you can’t, you just grab at him until he gets the hint to stand up.

“Need you inside me, please, Denki please.”

“That’s funny.” He says thoughtfully, pulling down his sweats and briefs to reveal his very hard, very pretty dick.

“What?” You ask, breathless as he steps between your legs. He grabs at his length and gives it a few lazy strokes before pressing his head up against your cunt. The action makes you shiver and dig your nails into his shoulder.

“Didn’t think you were one to beg.” He says with a trembling voice, body buzzing with anticipation.

Then he presses in, replacing any smart remark you may have had with a gasp. It’s definitely a stretch, but god it’s incredible. He fills you so well, presses all of the right spots as he slides in.

“Denki- shit.” Your head falls back against the cabinet, your brain turns to mush as you try to fully comprehend how you ended up here, most of all how you went so long without this.

“So fucking tight.” He pants as he bottoms out, his praise makes you clench, which in turn makes his head fall back with a sweet little gasp.

He pulls in a sharp breath through his teeth, his top lip pulls up almost like he’s in pain. You know he isn’t though, he’s just savoring it.

With a frantic hand, you reach up and grab at the hair at the nape of his neck. You pull him back down against you, both moaning into the kiss when he moves his hips back slowly.

Your lips are messy against each other, bodies working together, finally colliding the way they’re meant to. He keeps his hips moving, setting a perfect, smooth pace. His hands settle on your hips as your stay in his hair.

You’re more vocal than usual, moaning out little praises, needing more and begging for it.

“You feel so good, don’t stop, baby- feels so fucking good.” Your lips quiver as you speak, making you sound so weak and needy. That mixed with the affectionate name does something to Denki, something that names him break a little more.

He buries his face into your neck, whispering a harsh fuck that sounds strangled and desperate. His thrusts get a little faster, his hands grab you a little tighter, and all you feel is Denki.

Your whole body buzzes, in your fingertips, the backs of your thighs, you feel him everywhere.

You don’t even consider the mess that you’ll make on the counter, don’t mind the bruises he’ll leave on your hips, it’s all worth it. So fucking worth it.

“Look at me, look at me when I make you cum.” One of his hands comes up to hold your face as he speaks frantically.

His words set off a cloud of butterflies in your stomach, every sensation building, becoming more intense. You nod pitifully as you lean into his hand, chasing your high with each of his deep, filling thrusts.

The feeling of his hand on your hip reminds you of the last time he had you sitting on a counter like this. You remember how he shocked you, how it went straight to your cunt, how much you loved the feeling.

Body jolting with each thrust, your hand falls over his on your hip. You give him one look, and his eyebrows shoot sky high.

“Yeah? You want me to shock you?” His voice climbs as he speaks, so high and pretty and needy.

“Yes, fuck yes, please, Denki.” You plead, you’re so damn close, you just need that final push.

He doesn’t waste any time. As soon as you ask so sweetly, his palm starts to spark, biting at your skin. You cry out and throw your head forward, the electricity drives you up a wall, absolutely hooked on the sensation.

“That’s it, cum nice and hard for me sweetheart.” His other hand moves down to thumb at your clit and that’s all it takes.

“I’m gonna- ohmyfuckinggod- Denki! Shit!” You sob against his skin as he zaps you just a little more. It makes you delirious, you shiver and jolt as your hands claw down his back.

He fucks you through it, moans and praises fall from his lips as you crest. Your walls quiver around him, almost finishing him off too. Somehow, he keeps it together, he holds his pace until he’s sure you’re on your way back down.

“That’s it baby, that’s it.” He coos as his thrust become more shallow, “Oh fuck.”

He pulls out and jacks himself off only a few times before he’s spilling onto your thigh, painting the skin hot white ropes.

Your hand darts down to gather his release on your fingers before bringing it to your lips. You make a show of licking it up, popping your fingers from your mouth as your eyes flutter shut.

“Oh you dirty fuckin’ girl.” He muses, he gathers the rest up with his thumb so he can press it into your mouth.

You swirl your tongue around his thumb, looking up at him with a doe eyed expression.

You never dreamed you two would ever end up here, feeling and tasting each other in the filthiest of ways, but god it feels so right.

You stay there for just a moment, clinging to the high and each other, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

As your breathing steadies, his hands are placed gently around your waist, thumbs playing at the bottom of your ribs.

You share a moment of silence, waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Wanna talk about it?” Denki asks, a smile playing at his lips. You let out a breathy laugh, head falling forward so you can lean your forehead against his collar bone.

You start to press soft kisses across his chest, he hand slides to play with the hair at the back of your head.

“I don’t think we have to.” You kiss up his chest until you’re looking up at him.

“This works, doesn’t it?” He asks fondly, looking as stunning as ever, bruise and all.

“This works.” You confirm.

With that, he ducks down suddenly, arms sliding around you so he can throw you over his shoulder.

“Denki! What the hell?” You laugh, pounding at his back playfully.

“If we aren’t talkin’ we’re fuckin’. This isn’t a one and done deal baby.” He says as you round the corner to your bedroom, he throws you on the bed so you land with a bounce and a giggle.

“I hope you don’t have plans for the next six hours.” He falls into you, kissing all over your neck and collarbones.

“Hey.” You say quietly.

“Hmm.” He responds between kisses.

“I love you, sparky.”

He pauses, looking up at you with his luminant eyes.

“I know.” His face splits into a teasing grin.

You punch his shoulder, pouting dramatically.

He inches up the bed, caging you with his arms so he can cradle your head with his hands. He looks at you thoughtfully for just a moment before leaning down to kiss you.

It’s gentle and careful this time, slow and thought out. It makes you absolutely melt.

“I love you too.” He whispers against your lips.

It does work, it works beautifully. It was a slow and not so steady road, but you two knuckleheads did it. You crossed that damn line.

[shugojima]

𝗦𝘂𝗴𝗮𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗮 🍋♀️

Toys✔︎

Impact play✔︎

Soft Dom Suga✔︎

---

Koushi was your boyfriend since 4 months, you met at a festival. He went with his friend  Daichi and you were out with your bestie.

Koushi helped you when he catched a thief trying to steal your phone and almost beat him up for it.

You started to talk a little and thanked him for his help. That's when it all started.

You two had a beautiful relationship. Everything seemed fine except for... well your sex life.

It's not that neither of you enjoyed it, you very much did. But you wanted some more spice and Koushi was more the type that's totally fine if he just gets to cum and doesn't miss out on his after sex cuddles.

But when you came up to him and said you wanted to try somthing new, he was both, concerned if you're even satisfied and curious about what you had in mind.

"I bought some things..." he said a little shy looking at the floor, a small bag in his hand.

"What did you buy?"

He didn't answer, instead he directed you to sit on his bed before he sat down himself.

He handed you the bag and when you looked inside your eyes widened.

"Wow. You really took it serious."

"Sure. I want you to be happy and feel amazing, sugar."

You gave him a quick kiss on his cheek and took out the first thing you saw.

"A... whip?"

"Is it too much?? We don't have to use it! I can ret-"

"Nooo it's fine ig... But... do you want to use it on me or am I using it on you?"

He smiles and his eyes were getting a bit darker. "You would use it on me?"

"No."

Laughing a bit he grabbed the bag and put it near the bed.

"You know now that I think about it lets just be the rest of it a surprise."

Pushing you down on the bed he started to trail kisses along your neck down to your breasts before he helped you getting rid of your shirt.

You loved the way he touched you. Hia hands were magic on your skin. The way he looked at you with this infinite love in his beautiful brown orbs.

"You look stunning, baby. Absolutely gorgeous." he said as he undressed himself, you watching his every move.

His collarbones... to his toned abs... and his v line. Down to his thick cock.

"My god" you muttered under your breath as you starred at his length in awe as if you didn't alread see it so many times, which made him laugh a little.

"You like what you see, baby?" You nodded blushing hard when he pulled up your skirt and squeezed your thighs a little.

"But first..." he pulled a blindfold out of the bag and put it on you before turning you around on your belly.

You heard the bag rattle again before you felt the cold sensation of metal on your hard buds when the thing around them squeezed them a little.

"I know your breasts are very sensitive so I thought this might be fun." he said as he adjusted them a bit, squeezing now a little harder as you moaned slightly.

"So that's what gets you going?"

Feeling his hand slowly trace down your waist, down to your pussy, he parted your lips and slid two of his fingers between them drawing circles around your clit. Squirming under his touch you felt his hot breath at your core as his digits found their way to your slick hole, slowly sliding in, making you grind on them.

"Koushi... I- nghhh.. need more.."

"Oh really? Fine.."

Hearing the bag rattle again he said "Open your mouth."

You did as you were told before he put a little, you were pretty sure, vibrator in your mouth.

"Make it wet enough for your tight little ass, babe."

Drooling over it he pulled it out and you soon felt it at your entrance as he pushed it inside making you moan.

"Nghhh Koushi~..."

"You like that? Want me to fuck you dumb with my thick cock while your other hole is stuffed too?"

Feeling yourself getting wet asf you nodded eagerly.

"Oh yea? Say it."

"I want... you to fuck me... nghh with my ass stuffed."

He smiled at your words "I see my litte girl is pretty desperate today."

You felt his tip at your soaked hole when he thrusted hard inside and you felt the thing in your ass vibrating. His slightly curved cock driving you crazy.

"AHHH GOD... Fucking hell.."

"Language, babe."

He kept on fucking you like that for the next 15 minutes. The vibration reaching his cock as well having him moan loudly.

God that was your favorite sound.

"Harder, Koushi... please.."

"Look how greedy my little girl is today."

He said as he turned you on your knees and grabbed the whip before he started rearranging your guts.

Your screams and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass filling the room as you felt the leather of the whip on your back, leaving red stripes on it.

"NGHAAAA FUCK."

"That wasn't even that hard. You probably need some training here huh?"

Bringing the whip down again and again, getting off on your screams, he felt himself getting close.

"Nghhh shit.. How are you still so fucking tight?" Throwing the whip aside he grabbed your hips and fucked himself hard into your pretty little pussy, hitting your spot evrey time. The vibrator moving in and out your other hole along with his thrusts.

"You take me so well, baby... fuck.."

His pace getting a little slower, but even deeper. With a final hard thrust he spilled his load deep inside you moaning your name. Pulling out he ordered you to turn around.

You did and he spread your legs sitting between them and started to move the vibrator inside your ass before you felt his tongue licking along your wet slit.

His hot breath against your clit, tongue swirling around it you grabbed his soft grey hair and pushed yourself onto his pretty face, sweet moans leaving your mouth.

"Fuck right there.. god...." you moaned as you felt yourself reach your high and when your were just at the peak, he pulled the vibrator out your ass, making you cum even harder.

Screaming and arching your back you came all over his mouth and he made sure not to miss out on any of your sweet juice.

Falling back into the sheets, he layed down beside you and looked at you, waiting for anything. Any kind of ressurance that you enjoyed it.

"Fuck. That was amazing."

Smiling bright he hugged you and pulled you close.

"I have another bag."