#packet inspection

[noob2networking]

Firewall Friday: Network Security - Protecting Your Network from Threats

Welcome to Firewall Friday, where we dive into the exciting world of network security with a touch of humor and relatable analogies. In this edition, we’ll explore the importance of network security and how firewalls act as the guardians of your network, protecting it from potential threats. Get ready to embark on a hilarious and informative journey as we use common analogies, playful emojis, and…

[wherenightmaresroost]

also wts my burdock tea molded within its teabag. the papery packets it was in are all fine, and so are the other tea it was stored with. but ive opened like 5 packets and they're all moldy.

i bought these in april and the expiration date is 2 years away.

[filehulk]

Wireshark

Wireshark is a free and open-source packet sniffer that examines your network to identify performance and security problems. This Windows tool can analyze network traffic across Wireless, Ethernet, VLAN, and Bluetooth. As a standard protocol analyzer, it provides these features at no cost to both businesses and individuals. Additionally, these capabilities are not restricted to Windows, as…

[xk23587]

(Deep Packet Inspection v；lbb199238 大数据运营商SDK/DPI如何实时捕捉数据？精金准数据获客各行各业获客 滴滴蝙蝠：57684401 Telegram 与威信:xk23587 精准数据SDK/DPI，渗透，爬虫。嗅探，截取 大🌲🍊水果 大数据运营商SDK/DPI如何实时捕捉数据？精准数据获客各行各业获客#渗透#爬虫#嗅探拦截# ​​​

[katsukistofu]

peaches (you're the cream of the crop)

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ touya todoroki x fem reader. fluff. slightly suggestive. cursing. ⭑ a series of grocery trips after touya is discharged from the hospital gives you both a sense of normalcy you never thought you’d be able to have again.

monday

“put it back.” he wrinkles his nose as you continue to pick out tomatoes from the neat stack in front of you. “i said put it back.”

you stick your tongue out and tie up the bag after you put the last tomato in, dropping it in the cart he was pushing.

“ew.”

you giggle, he was acting like a little kid.

“touyaaa, you have to eat your veggies to grow big and strong.”

“bullshit. all the brat eats is soba and he’s almost taller than me now.” he grumbles. “and tomatoes are fruits.”

“tastes like a veggie.” your hip gently bumps into his after you walk back to him from the vegetables. “and maybe shoto’s taller than you ‘cause he actually listens to me.”

he rolls his eyes at that, and hesitantly reaches for your hand.

he’s still not used to being with you like this, alone, despite knowing you stayed by his side through countless hospital visits he wished he was conscious for.

but it’s okay because you’re here now, soft skin soothing against his rough, charred flesh. you don’t seem to mind though, not even the fact that he tends to holds you a little more tightly than he used to.

touya doesn’t let go of your hand. not once. not when you went to get a napa cabbage, or when you inspected the peaches on sale for any mushy spots.

or even when he lets you drag him to a stand in the freezer aisle where a nice store employee offers you two samples of gyoza, which was surprisingly good considering it was from a brand you’ve never heard of.

you feed touya his share, his eyes wide as he waits for you to finish blowing on it for him before holding it in front of his lips to eat.

not until you ask “can you go get more bags for me touya?” in that soft voice of yours that turns his knees to jelly, does he even consider the idea of releasing you from his grasp. you ran out when you were getting green onions.

turquoise eyes flicker to you, a hint of disappointment in them. he really doesn’t want to let go.

with a quick glance around, it’s obvious the supermarket was practically empty. which made sense, the two of you purposely chose to come on a monday morning.

perfect.

you use the handle of the cart to push yourself on your tippy toes, taking the opportunity to give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“please?”

he blinks rapidly, ducking his head down as he barely bites back a smile. you had him wrapped around your little finger and you didn’t even know it sometimes.

he’s always been weak for you.

“‘kay. be right back.” and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your throat, knowing he means it this time.

from now on, he’ll always come back to you. to home.

he quickly returns from his trip to the dispenser roll of plastic bags near the checkout line and promptly dumps them in the cart.

“i changed my mind.” he says as he swiftly slips behind you to hug your waist, catching you in the middle of putting a packet of tofu skin in the nearly full cart. a soft weight can be felt on your hair as his chin rests on your head.

you smile, squeezing his forearms. “about what?”

“….i guess i’ll eat tomatoes.”

“awww, for me?”

“only for you.”

friday

— wild geraniums are rich in flower symbolism. they are associated with love, peace, joy, health, fertility, and spirituality.

it was a warm friday afternoon the next time you and touya go shopping.

the shizuoka prefecture had reached a new high today for the month, a sweltering thirty four degrees, and by the time you two get there you’re sweating bullets.

the cold air conditioning blasts you in the face, cooling your sweat as you’re met with the sight of mothers and elderly women bustling around, carts laden with fresh produce to last the next few weeks by cooking warm meals for their families.

he sighs next to you as the both of you stand in silence, enjoying the breeze for just moment longer.

touya grabs a basket for you, since you’re only planning to grab a few things for shoto anyway. a light pink sticky note rests on the palm of your hand, and he watches as you peer at the youngest’s neat handwriting.

a packet of soba noodles, a new pocky flavor, mousse matcha, that he wanted to try with his friends, and a bottle of green tea.

the two of you are in the snack aisle when he texts, touya too busy examining the ingredients of a box of choco-pie to notice you taking your phone out.

shoto [08:51]

Sorry for the late notice, can you please pick up a potted flower?

It’s for mom.

But don’t let Touya-nii pick.

It’s your choice that I trust.

you giggle at his remark, while your fingers fumble for the pen you know is somewhere.

thankfully, touya saves you by magically pulling it out from the depths of your bag, and places it in the palm of your hand.

you whisper a quick thanks and kiss his cheek. his face goes hot the moment you pull away to scribble on the list in your hand.

‘stop by the plant nursery’ is added to your sticky. it was only a block away on the way back to the todoroki house, so touya and you could just swing by really quick after getting shoto’s stuff. due to lack of a hard surface to write on, your writing was kind of messy.

maybe you should’ve asked touya if you could use his chest, but you doubt the grandmas in the aisle over would approve.

a new notification pops up on your screen.

natsuo [09:03]

helloo my favorite future sister-in-law

can u pick up some fish for sashimi pls

pls pls i got an A on my presentation today

touya leans over your shoulder to read the text and fakes a gag. he never liked fish, and eating it raw? no way in hell.

between the four of them inheriting most of their mother’s likeness (fuck whatever his dad’s weak ass excuse for genes was), you’d think they’d also gain her love of warm dishes like oden and niku-jaga.

as the eldest, of course it was his duty to set things straight and comment on his sibling’s questionable tastes.

you [09:04]

ew

you [09:04]

hot soba is better

mission accomplished, touya proudly hands your phone back to you. you bite back a laugh as you read his texts.

how eloquent of him.

natsuo [09:05]

????????

natsuo [09:05]

BITCH

I KNOW THATS YOU TOUYA

you roll your eyes at the two’s antics and grab your boyfriends hand, leading him to the seafood section.

a wide array of fish was displayed before you, and you take a picture of the ones labeled for sashimi.

you [09:10]

which one? :)

natsuo [09:11]

the salmon !!!!!

you [09:12]

ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

natsuo [09:13]

THANK USOMHCH

I LOV YOU

MORE THANTOUYA

another notification appears as you quickly swipe out of natsuo’s texts before your boyfriend can throw your phone across the supermarket.

fuyumi [09:26]

are you guys at the mart right now?

you [09:27]

we are lol :9

did natsu brag about getting sashimi the moment he got home from his lecture?

fuyumi [09:28]

yeah.

giggling a little, you can almost hear her slightly exasperated tone.

you take a picture of an unsuspecting dabi looking at the frozen steamed buns and he side eyes you after you turn away, already having a sneaking suspicion who you were sending it to.

you [09:28]

touyamakinghearteyesatredbeanbuns.png

fuyumi [09:30]

fatass

you muffle your laughter as touya stalks over to you, swiping the phone out of your hands just as fuyumi texts again.

fuyumi [09:31]

anyways i was going to ask

can you add panko bread crumbs to your cart please?

i wanted make katsudon for you all tonight :>

touya’s types furiously as you hide your face in his chest in a silent fit of laughter.

you [09:32]

only if you take back calling me a fatass, fatass

fuyumi [09:33]

please i’ve hear worse threats from my kindergarteners in the sandbox

you’re almost to the checkout line, before touya stops you.

you don’t even have to take a glance in the direction he’s looking in.

“touya, no.”

“touya, yes.”

he wants to grin so bad but his new staples are still fresh from last week’s surgery.

his mouth settles for a safe pout to win your pity.

unfortunately for him you had an iron will in concerns to his health.

“the nurse said ‘no processed foods for the next thirteen days.’ that includes shrimp chips, dummy.”

your hand around his bicep is firm as you drag him away, and he stares longingly back at the snack aisle.

“where are we going?” he murmurs, the grocery bags that he had insisted carrying in one hand while letting you drag him along in the other.

he makes sure he’s walking on the side of the curb.

you slow your pace to walk beside him and he can hear the teasing smile in your voice.

“to bring a baby home to your mom.”

“okay… wait what?!”

he stares at the potted geraniums in your hands as you exit the plant nursery, eyes flicking up to meet your cheeky grin.

“our baby.”

so that’s what you meant.

you looked a little too pleased with yourself and had somehow gotten a smudge of dirt on your forehead in the process of choosing the perfect flowers for his mother.

he wipes it off with his thumb, and pretends to lick it to see your reaction. your squeals of protest and the way your eyes smile when you laugh make his stomach do a flip.

just like when he met you for the first time.

touya decides anything is worth it as long as he gets to see you make that face. especially pretending eating dirt. fuck the shrimp chips, the only snack he needed was you.

except you weren’t just a snack.

you were a goddamn meal.

he raises an eyebrow and smirks, eyes dancing with mischief as he looks down at you. a firm hand pressed against your belly as he places a painstakingly soft kiss on the spot where the dirt smudge used to be.

“don’t worry.” he breathes. you can feel him smile into the crook of your neck, his fingers caressing your stomach as you squirm ticklishly against him.

“i’ll get you a real one someday.”

you nearly drop the geraniums on his foot.

sunday

today is sunday.

meaning it’s weekly movie night in the todoroki household.

shoto was the one who made it a tradition, after liking it so much when he did it with his classmates. everyone agreed it was the perfect low-effort family bonding activity after a long week.

natsuo just finished taking his finals. you’re relieved not to see him pull anymore all-nighters.

fuyumi’s on summer break. letters from her students written in crayon and covered in silly doodles of her are litter the front of the fridge.

you smile as you pass by it when you’re on on the way to shoto’s room to help him do that little braid he liked on the side of his hair. he was starting to grow it out now.

rei makes sure to volunteer at the local gardening center in the mornings, ensuring her afternoons and evenings are free to spend time with her kids.

enji calls off from work the moment it hits six. his sidekicks at the agency can take care of whatever happens while he’s gone.

touya and you are in charge of buying snacks, and you get everyone’s favorite. after checking out, the two of you head home hand in hand.

you’re snuggled under a blanket with touya. it was shoto’s turn to choose a movie, and the sounds of shrek played as you grew sleepier and sleepier. touya’s warm arms, which had you trapped in his lap, were not helping.

you point at the plate of tuna mayo onigiri on the coffee table. rei and fuyumi had made them earlier while you and him were out at the supermarket.

“remember when you ate so many of those because natsuo dared you to and you got a tummy ache?” he lets out a noise akin to a giggle, and your mouth splits into a grin at the familiar sound.

memories of hot summers sleeping on the floor with the fan on full blast and staying up to see fireflies come flooding back to you.

lying on the roof, you remember him resting his head on your chest while pointing out constellations to you, echoes of shared laughter filling the night air as he’d get them wrong every single time.

the stolen glances at each other between bites of juicy watermelon and soba. his ears turning redder than the slice of fruit in his hands when you catch him staring, the smug look on your face quickly turning into one of concern as he choked on his food and you rushed to pat his back.

in the present, you cuddle up impossibly closer to him, and he shivers as your warm breath hits his neck.

you had really missed this. he did too.

he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of the summer with you.

the rest of his life, too. he wasn’t planning on leaving you alone again, not now, not ever.

with you in his arms, he focuses on the movie, laughing along with shoto as fiona attempts to yank out the arrow in shrek’s butt. he turns to you, a smile tugging at his lips. his hair looks even softer against the glow of the projector.

“would you love me if i turned into shrek?”

you grin, poking his cheek. “i’d miss this pretty face of yours too much.”

"scars and all?"

"scars and all."

he frowns playfully at that despite the butterflies coming to life in his stomach, and leans forward to rest his head against your shoulder. you smirk, catching a whiff of your conditioner. “i knew you only liked me for my looks.”

“shush.” you point at something on the coffee table.

he spots the bag of shrimp chips, not so subtly lighting up.

you must have snuck them onto the conveyor belt while you two were standing in the checkout line when he wasn’t looking.

“i love you so much holy shit.” he whispers, nuzzling into your shoulder.

“i know.”

cue the side eye from him.

you roll your eyes at his dramatics and turn around to straddle his strong thighs, raising your hands to gently hold his face in them.

touya shivers as your thumb brushes against his cheek, your touch sweet like the peaches he shared with you after breakfast that morning.

“i love you too.” you whisper back, just in time before he lifts the blanket up to cover the both of you in the dark as he hungrily leans forward to close the gap between you.

rei’s the first one to notice you two asleep on the couch as the ending credits roll.

she gets another fluffy blanket from the closet to layer on top of the one already on your sleeping forms, making sure you’re both properly covered.

she places a kiss on touya’s forehead, then yours, before hugging the rest of her children goodnight and giving them kisses as well.

enji follows suit, muttering a gruff goodnight to everyone. a chorus of quiet good nights trail after him as he lumbers off.

fuyumi, natsuo, and shoto are the last ones left in the living room.

they smirk knowingly at each other as they see touya squeeze you tighter in his sleep, mumbling something about how lucky he is that you’re his.

something about getting you a ring too.

as the three siblings exit the room, they wordlessly shared one last excited glance before heading separate ways to their respective beds. shoto was especially pleased.

when you started living with them, he could ask you to help braid his hair everyday.

he wants you to teach him when you have the time, too. touya could never get it right like you did when you weren’t here.

at least touya had enough of a grasp on his sense of style to help him pick outfits.

you, obviously, were already a todoroki in all of their hearts.

but they still couldn’t wait for their big brother to grow a pair and tie the knot with you.

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

sarah cameron’s brother

pairings - rafe cameron x reader

summary - rafe always did things to piss you off or make you cry.

warnings - sexual intercourse, fingering. (18+)

You searched high and low in the cupboard, waiting for your eye to catch sight of the unopened packet of pink chips you had hidden in the back of the pantry. However after several minutes you came up short, the chips were nowhere in sight. “I swear I brought them” grumbling to yourself, checking once more before slamming the door closed and leaning back against the bench with a sigh.

Just as you go to walk back to your room, the door of the kitchen opens and Rafe walks in. Crumpled up bag in his hand, the smell of salt and vinegar just about smacks you in the face. “You ate my chips!” You shout, stalking towards your best friend's brother in anger. He was always doing something to anger you, he liked getting under your skin. “I don’t see your name on them” he states, he pulls his hand back and throws the balled up bag and it hits you square in the nose.

He chuckles deeply and moves to walk around you, your hand grasps the front of his shirt in frustration. “They were mine. You don’t even like that flavour! Stop stealing my shit!” He laughs again and stares down at you with an unreadable expression, his irritatingly gorgeous blue eyes inspect your face. “It’s cute how mad you get, you're under my roof so I’ll eat whatever I want” he states, his hand moves to grip your wrist, your fingers loosen instantly and he pulls you away from his shirt, rubbing his palm over the wrinkles. “That doesn’t mean you can just eat my stuff… Why are you always doing things to annoy me! Don’t you have a life?”

You don’t even know why you're arguing with him, you know he gets nasty quickly and has you crying in your room for hours. His words always hit too deep, they wouldn’t hurt so bad if you didn’t have such a silly little crush on him.

“Y/n.. I’ll eat whatever the fuck I want. You live here for free, just because you're my sister's best friend doesn’t mean you can tell me what I can and can’t do. And honestly you need to get over yourself.. You think I’m ‘always’ trying to annoy you but maybe have you looked at yourself and realized you're the annoying one, you're the one who came in my life and disturbed my peace. I already have two annoying sisters I didn’t need you as well”

“You're such an asshole!”

“Cry me a fucking river… now get out of my face”

Your neck heats in anger, his words causing you to become slightly emotional. He knew why you were staying with them, he knew you couldn’t go home to your alcoholic parents and his dad wouldn’t take no for an answer. He knew the damage your parents had caused you and yet he still throws around shit like that.

“Fuck you!”

“You fucking wish… I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole”.

You can’t stop the tears that prick behind your eyes, your bottom lip trembles in embarrassment. “Your such a fucking asshole”.

Your feet carry you out the door before you can hear his response, climbing the stairs and slamming your bedroom door closed. Your fingers twist the lock as the tears fall from your eyes, silent sobs wrack your body as you press your palms to the back of the door.

“Open the door y/n”

Biting your lip when his voice bounces off the door, you're shocked he came after you. He usually spits out hateful words and leaves you to wallow in them. “Y/n open the fucking door”.

“Leave me the fuck alone Rafe” your voice cracks, swallowing down your tears in embarrassment. His fist meets the door causing you to jump back in panic, the door handle jiggles as he tries to open the door, you can hear him huffing behind the wooden door.

“I’m not playing around open the door”

You stay silent and move over to your bed, he kicks at the door this time in frustration. You knew he would be pissed off for a few hours but would get over it eventually. Just as silence falls over you the door swings open and you jump at the intrusion, pressing your hand to your chest.

“I told you to open the door”

“Leave me alone Rafe, I don’t want to hear anymore”

He closes the door behind him and walks over you, his fingers grip your chin when you turn your head away from him. “I didn’t mean to make you cry”

You swallow the lump forming in your throat, blinking the tears away. “It’s nothing new Rafe”

“What?”

“You make me cry all the time, don’t know why your concerned this time”

His eyes scan yours and he runs a hand over his face in fruatration. “I didn’t know I made you cry… I assumed you could take what I dished out”

You pull out of his grip and sit back down on your bed, bringing your knees to your chest. Looking up at him with glassy eyes, he hated seeing you look this vulnerable.

“Not when you call me names or bring up my living situation” he takes a seat next to you, you can feel his thigh on the bottom of your toes. Sending goosebumps up your arms and down your back, your body shivers at the contact. If he notices he doesn’t comment, his eyes are on the picture of you and Sarah on your bedside table.

“You should have told me”

You shake your head, wiping away the tears that had managed to escape again. “You wouldn’t have listened or you would have just made me feel worse by telling me to grow up or something”

His eyes meet yours again and you both stare at one another in silence, you take this moment to appreciate his chiseled Jaw and buzz cut. His skin is soft and flawless, everything you expected when up this close. “I didn’t mean what I said”

“It’s whatever Rafe, I’ll get over it”

“No it’s not, I didn’t mean it and I didn’t want to make you cry. I just.. I don’t know why I always argue with you, it’s easier”

Your eyebrows crease together at his words, his fingers brush yours slightly and it sends shivers down your spine again. You drop your knees from your chest and instead cross them in front of you. “Why would that be easier than treating me like a human being?”.

“It’s easier to argue with you… because than.. because than I’m not constantly thinking about how I want to kiss you”

Your mouth suddenly feels like the Sahara desert, no words form in your brain as you stare at him with wide eyes. “I-”

His hand is on your knee, skimming across your thigh until his fingers grip at your waist. Your legs shake at the contact, excitement courses through your veins “What are you doing?” You whisper, it feels as though your heartbeat was in your ears. Your chest feels heavy with anxiety as his face inches closer to yours “Rafe”.

As though your voice brought him back to reality he swipes his nose against yours, you can feel his breath on your lips. A fresh set of goosebumps paint themself on your skin. “It’s so much easier just being an asshole to you but I can’t anymore.. not after seeing you cry, not after knowing the words I say cause you to cry alone”

Before you can respond, his lips graze yours, it’s not even a proper kiss and you already feel dizzy from his touch. Your legs unravel themself as your fingers find home at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer until his body pressed against yours, his lips meeting yours firmer this time. Almost desperate.

Your nails scratch down the back of his neck as his tongue works against your own, your hips raised off the mattress until you could feel his heavy body against your sensitive one. “Fuck” he groans into your open mouth, your lips almost bruising from the fierceness behind his kiss, his fingers massage at the skin of your waist.

Your hands fall from his neck to creep under his sage green shirt, fingertips kissing the skin of his stomach. You can feel him clench under your touch, pressing his erection to your cunt. “Oh god” you moaned at the ache that gnawed at your sensitive bud, you needed friction. You wrapped your legs around his hips and flipped the two of you over until your clothed pussy pressed firmly against his bulge. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long” he mumbles, attacking the delicate skin of your neck, sucking and nibbling until your hips begin rolling against his cock. “Me too”.

His hands slide up the backs of your thighs, gripping your cotton covered ass cheeks. You're embarrassingly wet, your arousal soaks the panties you wore. His rough hands part your cheeks, you can feel your pussy opening waiting for the intrusion of his fingers but instead he presses you firmer against his erection. Rolling his hips into yours, your sensitive clit throbbing with each movement. “Oh fuck” you curse, your head falls forward causing your hair to create a curtain over your face.

Your forearms press against Rafe’s chest to keep you up right. One hand leaves your ass and slips under the two of you to grip your throat, he pushes you up slightly so he can get a look at your face. “You like that?”

“Mhm… I need more” he doesn’t say a word and instead slips his fingers inside your panties. The dampness of your pussy has him grunting, his eyes don’t leave your face as he toys with your clit. Your mouth falls open as you try to organize the words in your head, the feeling of his fingers has you going crazy. “More” is all you manage to choke out, he slips a fingers between your lips and nudges at your opening. Your pussy pulsating around air until he finally slips a finger inside, your arms shake but the hand around your throat stops you from falling onto him. “How many fingers can you take?”

“I- I don’t know.. maybe two?”

He slips three in instead, you cry out in pleasure. You can feel him all over you, he begins to finger fuck you hard. The wetness of your pussy has his fingers gliding in and out without resistance, his mouth kisses at your chest. With the ounce of strength you have left you pull down the fabric of your top to expose your breasts, his eyes fall to them before looking back up at you for a brief moment. He envelopes your perky nipples into his mouth and sucks your tits like it’s his last meal. “Fuck me Rafe”

Your breast falls from his mouth with a pop and he slips his fingers out of your pussy, bringing them to his lips to suck your juices from them. “Now”

He chuckles but obeys, standing up to slip his shirt over his head while you unbutton his pants. Tugging them until they meet the ground and come face to face with his pretty cock, you pull him back onto the bed and climb over him. You’ve stripped your own clothes off and straddle him completely naked, pressing your wet pussy against his cock. His eyes roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your warm pussy “I don’t have a condom,” he says, leaning up on his forearms as you roll your hips against him. “Don’t need one, I’m on the pill” you mumble, too in your head right now to comprehend what he’s saying, focused on rolling your hips against his cock. “Hey, y/n focus please”.

His hands halt your movement, your eyes fall open at the loss of friction. “It’s fine, if you're okay with no condom so am I” you rush, he studies your face for a moment and nods his head, dropping back down against the bed. You reach between the two of you, giving him a few soft tugs before running the top of his cock between your folds. “Jesus” he moans, his cock slowly disappearing within you. He can feel you pulsing around him, he could blow right this second from the warmth of your cunt. “Oh sweet Jesus” you cried as you began to ride his cock. The tip of his head hitting your spongy walls with each thrust, you could already feel your orgasm brewing again. The tips of your toes tingle and your belly swarmed with butterflies, circling your hips against his.

His hands teased your nipples, reaching his head up to capture your lips with his. He let you choose the speed for a bit longer before his hands gripped your hips again and he bucked his hips up, causing you to cry out with each thrust. No longer able to hold onto your orgasm, your walls clenched around him, digging your nails into his chest as he pushed you over the edge until all you could see were white spots. “Fuck fuck fuck… I’m coming!” His fingers slip between the two of you to massage your clit, bringing you over the edge. “Fucking hell… I’m close” he warned, though you were blissed out you met his pace and continued to roll your hips, another orgasm already brimming as you got him closer to his own orgasm. “Rafe yes yes o-h”

Lacing his fingers around your throat as you both came, his own orgasm felt like it wasn’t going to stop as your walls sucked him in deeper as your orgasm riddled your body with pleasure. Your chest meets his, resting your head as the two of you regained composure. Silence fills the room but his fingers dance across your back in an almost sweet gesture, when you finally regain your vision and breath you pull away from him. Reaching to grab your clothes in sudden embarrassment, your cheeks tinted a shake of pink as he watches you get dressed. “Who said we were done?” He questions, grasping the panties from your hand and throwing them across the room. He grips the back of your thighs and pulls you back down onto him. “Shouldn’t we maybe talk?”

“We can talk all you want babe”

Your cheeks flush a deeper red at his nickname, the kindness being foreign towards you. “But I want to kiss you a bit more before we get down to the hard stuff”

“Okay”

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[dollysilena]

IMPERFECT FOR YOU (18+)

you, doing a friend a favor, have to tutor miya osamu. but instead of learning about chemistry, he’s more interested in learning about you.

WC: 5.8k (send an ambulance)

WARNINGS: explicit drug (marijuana) usage, dubcon (sex under the influence), mentions of female anatomy and female identifying reader, use of ‘baby’ as petname, this is severely under-edited i’m so sorry

TAGS: frat/popular!osamu x nerdy/unpopular!reader, f!reader, porn with (some) plot, college au, post-timeskip, smut, hair-pulling, cunnilingus, petnames, reader has anxiety somebody pls give her a hug, if you get a magnifying glass osamu has a corruption kink

NOTE: i needed a palate cleanser so i can get back into writing so thus this was born. i intend to make this a mini-series (maybe?) or maybe just blurbs/headcanon series, who knows! let me know what you guys want <3

“Absolutely not.”

“C’mon,” Your friend whines, folding her hands together in mock begging, giving you the best puppy eyes she could muster even throwing in a quivering lip for her dramatic performance. “He’s a perfectly nice guy!”

“So what you’re telling me, this guy–” You begin, dumping a sugar packet into your coffee.

“Who I’m tutoring.”

“Right. The guy you tutor, who never comes to class–”

You stir your coffee. She nervously chuckles.

“Who is on the verge of failing–”

You stab your straw into the cup. She lets out a tense ‘mhm’.

“And needs to pass this final to avoid being on academic probation–”

You raise the straw to your mouth. She nervously fiddles with her fingers.

“... Needs to be tutored by me instead?”

You take a sip of your coffee as your friend shrinks into the booth seat. 

“Well, you didn’t have to put it like that,” she grumbles through a slurp of her drink.

You should have known that when your best friend offered to take you out to your favorite cafe, on her, she was up to something. And you knew that when she bought you your favorite muffin, she was going to be asking you something ridiculous. The last time you were offered a free muffin, you ended up having to pretend to her parents that you were dying in the emergency room so that she could sneak out to her hookup’s place. 

The plan almost worked until they came to visit you out of concern, only to find you both not there. She was grounded for another two months.

You turn to her.

“And why can’t you do it?” Your friend was supposed to be the one tutoring him, so you were confused about why it suddenly had to be you instead.

“Because,” She grumbles as if it were obvious. “I’m already busy trying to pass my own exams, that stupid research paper for Professor Takeda is driving me crazy, babysitting my piece of shit brother–”

Translation: I’m in over my head.

“Besides, everyone knows you’re a genius and you’ll pass no matter what, so why not take on a charity case in your free time, huh?” 

She grins at you, not bothering to hide her obvious attempt at fluffing your ego to convince you.

“Does this guy even have a shot at passing?” You sigh, taking a sip of your latte. “I mean, if he doesn’t bother to come to class, how much effort do you think he’s gonna put–”

“He’s a smart guy, trust me! It’s just… y’know how college is.”

Right, he’s a college guy. He was probably knee-deep in parties instead of his textbooks.

“Why’s it on you to let this guy pass? I mean, it’s not your problem–”

“Well, his brother sorta said if I’d help him, I’d be invited to all the frat parties on campus this semester…” There it is.

She trails off but still stares at you with pleading eyes, and you notice her sliding her muffin towards you.

“You’re not gonna let up on this, are you?” You ask as you inspect the blueberry-crusted pastry now on your plate. 

“Nope,” she replies, popping the ‘p’ and grinning with her coffee straw dangling in her mouth. “Does it help that he’s super cute?”

You sigh again and pinch your nose bridge. She takes your lack of response as a victory.

“Great! I already told him that you’d come by tonight. I’ll send you his address and phone number–”

“You told him I was coming before you even knew I’d agree?!”

“Well, what else were you gonna do tonight? And don’t tell me you’re gonna watch that shitty soap opera again.”

Again, you don’t have an answer. Maybe because she’s already said it for you. But it’s not shitty! It’s romantic, moving, thrilling– okay, yeah, you’re starting to hear yourself. Maybe you shouldn’t stay in tonight.

“Fine, where does he live?”

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

At no point did your friend mention to you that the address she was sending you to would be a frat house.

You thought it was odd that the address was in the dead center of campus– but you figured that whoever you were tutoring happened to get an apartment with a great location. It should’ve been obvious to you that this area would be Greek life housing when you realize all the houses on the block were way too nice to be afforded by a typical college student. You have never stepped foot on this end of campus. Well, you hadn’t, until now.

You should’ve stayed home, nose-deep in the romance novel weighing down in your bag. But now, you’re standing on the front porch of one of the most popular frat’s on campus.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you sneer into the phone pressed to your ear.

“Quit your yapping! It’s not like there’s a party going on or something.” You could practically see your friend rolling her eyes through the phone.

You anxiously dart your eyes throughout the house exterior. It’s massive, obviously well-funded based on how nearly every window seems to be polished, and definitely better than the shitty dorm you lived in a few blocks away. You couldn’t help but dread imagining how many frat brothers lived inside.

“I’m gonna leave–”

“Hey brat, put that down!” She screeches to presumably her younger brother on the other end of the line. “Ugh, gotta go. Have fun!”

“Wait!--”

She already ends the call before you can say anything else, and you fume at her contact information staring back at you. Seriously, if somebody axe-murdered you here, you’d make sure to haunt your friend for the rest of her life.

You weigh your decisions– a part of you wants to bolt back to your dorm, imagining the comfortable blanket and pillow resting on your bed practically awaiting your return, or you could not chicken out and actually fulfill the promise you made to your friend.

Damnit, you knew you had to pick the latter. You’d feel really shitty if you didn’t.

Besides, you’d never hear the end of it if you ran out with your tail between your legs.

You ready yourself to knock on the door, admittedly through a few deep breaths first, and as your fist is about to meet the wood of the door, it swings open from the inside. Had you been a second quicker, you probably would have tapped your tutee in the face.

Except, now that you’re looking at him, he’s quite tall. It would be more at his chest than anything. His broad chest was covered in a tight black shirt, with strong shoulders… In fact, you couldn’t even see his face if you were simply staring forward. 

“Ya the tutor?” He states simply, breaking your train of thought.

You look at him to notice that there’s a face attached to the chest you were staring at. You look up, and dammit, your friend was right. He was super cute.

His hair is dark, with heavy gray eyes– bored and lazily staring at you, dumbfounded on his doorstep There’s a series of tattoos snaking beneath his shirt and piercings you couldn’t even begin to count– you nearly forget that you have to respond.

“Uhm– yeah, that’s me,” you reply, trying to regain your mental footing. “You’re Osamu, right?” 

“Mhm, come on in,” he says, sticking his hands into loose gray sweatpants…. You should really stop staring. Or at least pretend you have a semblance of class.

You step inside and slip off your shoes as you briefly inspect your surroundings. The frat house is above all else, what you expected. Minus for the fact it actually seemed clean despite the typical frat stereotypes you heard– though, you’re sure their cushy funding got them cleaning services. There’s no way a bunch of college guys living together could keep a big house like this clean without some help.

However, that makes you take note that there is a lack of frat brothers in the frat house.

“Are ya just gonna stand there and stare or come inside?” Osamu remarks and your spine grows twice as stiff. You nod quickly and follow him inside and he leads you to what seems like a living room area– some couches and chairs around a TV and coffee table.

Osamu gestures for you to sit and you cautiously sit down, as if the couch had a trap door, leading you to fall into whatever scary basement sat beneath the house.

“Where’s–” You clear your throat, hoping you can keep a firm voice. “-- the rest of your brothers?”

“All of ‘em left on a trip for the weekend, somethin’ ‘bout a party at another school, but I gotta stay back and study for this damn final.”

You quickly pull out the textbooks and notebooks from your bag and place them on the table to ignore Osamu, who takes a seat beside you. He makes you unbearably nervous like you’re about to drop on a rollercoaster. But Osamu is… He’s… stoic? No, that’s not right. Maybe calm was the right word. You wouldn’t know– you’re anything but calm right now.

No, because, quite frankly Osamu looks like he was plucked straight out of one of the daydream sequences you fall asleep to. And you feel like your heart is about to burst out of your chest from how fast it was racing.

“So, you need help with medicinal chemistry?” You notice your voice is an octave higher than what it usually is.

“Yeah, I missed too many classes and now I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Whatever you do, do not look at the way his arms are flexing or the distinctive veins charting throughout his forearms.

“We can start–” you flipped through your textbook to avoid staring at his arms any longer, “with the chapter on structure-based relationships–”

“Yer not who I thought Yuki would send.”

“I’m sorry?” You sputter back, and you think that your glasses pivot off your face. You were taken aback, did he think you were somebody else? Was he expecting someone else or?--

“She’s one of my brother’s friends. And my brother… Well, I don’t think ya would hang out with the likes of him.”

Oh, that’s what it was.

He was disappointed that you weren’t… someone more interesting, like your friend, or the people he knew in his frat, or…

It doesn’t matter. You should’ve expected this. After all, you’re just the tutor he has to tolerate for a few lessons until he passes his final. 

But still, you feel some sort of rejection. You couldn’t blame him, his Friday night was being wasted on some nerd who couldn’t even look him properly in the eye because she wasn’t used to being near cute guys, let alone one of the most attractive guys she had seen in, well, ever.

“Don’t look like that, I think that’s a good thing.”

“I look like what?” Your hand flies to your face, instinctively going to hide it.

“Like I kicked yer puppy,” he muses. 

You look back at him, and you see that he’s almost amused by your nerves. Your cheeks burn and you feel the need to wrap the cardigan you had on tighter around you, as if the wooly cotton would act as some sort of shield. But Osamu’s still right beside you, and you feel as if he’s intercepting some sort of barrier between you. But he sits still next to you.

“I like it, ya seem chill, and better than the damn morons I’m always ‘round. Yer a nice change of pace.”

A nice change of pace? You didn’t think that anyone would find your company… enjoyable.

“Please,” you laugh. The idea of you being chill momentarily makes you forget about your nerves. If only Osamu knew half the thoughts racing through your mind. “I’m a goody-two-shoes, and definitely not chill.”

“What, ya a good girl or somethin’?” 

You falter. You glance back at him and notice that his eyes still haven’t left you.

“What?” You say, but it comes out more like a squeak. You’re not dumb, you could hear the indication ever so slightly tinged in his voice.

“Ya just interest me, I guess. Wanna know ‘bout ya.” You hear slight amusement in his tone. 

“So tell me, what makes you a goody two shoes?”

“I, uhm–” You barely are processing an answer with the way his dark-rimmed eyes bore at you. “Well, I haven’t ever smoked–”

“Weed or–?”

You shake your head. “Neither.”

“Ya drink?”

“Sometimes. Not often. I don’t go to parties or anything like that, and drinking alone is kinda depressing so–”

He snorts. You aren’t sure why you were answering his sudden questions, you were just here to tutor him in chemical structures. But something about his presence beside you is commanding and you feel the need to comply.

“Maybe we can change that sometime.”

You barely compute what he just said before he turns to the textbook in front of you.

“So what’s this ‘bout structure activity?”

Osamu’s smarter than what you expect for a student possibly facing academic probation. Honestly, you question if he had ever needed you in the first place. He’s quick to pick up on the topics you lay out, and he probably could have self-taught himself most of the material if he applied himself. 

Or showed up to class, but you keep that thought to yourself.

“That’s pretty much all of chapter five,” you say, closing the textbook in front of you.

“I honestly think if you just kept studying on your own, you don’t need me to tutor you, I can send you some videos too if you’d like, but I think that you’re fine–”

“Nah, I’d prefer if ya came over.”

He says it simply in a lazy drawl. But for you, it sends your brain into overdrive. You feel like a computer whose code has an error but keeps trying to run its system. 

“Oh– Alright– I can come around sometime next week then.” You barely maintain to keep your composure. You just needed to be on auto-pilot until you got home, where you could properly freak out in the sanctity of your own room.

“Ya okay with late nights? Stupid frat schedule keeps me busier than I’d like to be.” He asks.

You nod your head. “Mhm, I’m fine being over late.”

“That too much for ya?” And there’s a lazy smile across his lips. “Ya got a bedtime or something?”

You give him another small laugh. “No, I usually stay up late anyway.”

“Ya stay up late? Doin’ what?” 

There it is again. That sliver of amusement in his tone, as if he knows something that you don’t. But he keeps his calm demeanor, the one that makes you question if you’re just reading too much into things.

“Reading, watching shows, y’know, the normal stuff.”

Reading the stack of romance novels piled in your dorm until you see the sun peak through your blinds, watching soap operas until the screen asks ‘Are you still watching?’ because they assumed you left it open when in reality you’ve watched about five hours worth of television, dreaming, and wondering if someday you could attain even a fraction of the romance you see in fiction.

Yeah, the normal stuff.

At least for you, anyway. But hell would freeze over before you admit that. 

Especially to Osamu, who you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of a flutter in your chest for.

“That’s all ya got planned for Friday night?” He hums, fingers absentmindedly twirling a pencil in his free hand.

“Yup,” you reply, softly. Great, now he probably thinks you’re a loser just like everyone else. You should have just told him you were going to head to a party, like any other normal college student your age.

“Ya wanna do somethin’ with me, then? I’m bored as hell being in this house all alone.”

For a moment, you think that you hear him wrong. Certainly, a guy, as hot, as intimidating, and– and so many things you’re not, and certainly couldn’t match to, was offering to hang out with you. No way, this doesn’t happen. Not to girls like you.

“You wanna hang out with me? Like right now?”

“Would ya prefer a different time, then?” His tone though, doesn’t suggest that he wants to reschedule. It’s painfully sardonic. It seems like it would be now, or not at all.

“N-no. I’d…”

For once, you have a chance to not have a nose in a book. To not spend your weekend alone wondering if that was going to be the rest of your college life. You have the chance to do something for yourself. 

And something as simple as hanging out with a cute guy on a Friday night could be the start of that.

You sit up straighter and hold your head up. Something is tickling in your chest as you look back at Osamu, finally meeting back those eyes that couldn’t seem to stop studying you.

“Yeah, I’d like to.”

Something is screaming inside you. This is unfamiliar territory. This is foreign. Leave now. Abort mission. But you shove it down, you weren’t stopping while you were already ahead. New is good, you told yourself. But you still feel the urge to bolt out the door to cower under your covers.

You had put all your school supplies back into your bag and nestled yourself into the corner of the couch, making yourself as small as can be. Osamu said you two could ‘watch a movie and chill’. You could do something as simple as a movie, right? 

“Ya comfy?” He asks.

“Yeah, thank you,” you say quietly, as if speaking up would take up more space in the room.

“I can tell that yer nervous,” he comments. It was that obvious, huh?

“Yeah, I don’t…” you pause to collect yourself, “usually do this.”

“Hang out with guys only after a few hours of meeting ‘em?” He laughs, relaxing himself on the couch.

“Hang out with guys,” you mutter under your breath.

“What’d ya say?” He says, looking over at you questioningly. It seems he heard you.

“I don’t hang out with guys, at all,” you replied, tone clearer now, “much less cute ones–”

Shit, shit, shit. You didn’t mean to say the last part.

“Ya think I’m cute?”

You wondered if you sank deeper into the couch, that’d you’d disappear completely.

“I mean, yeah– you’re attractive, of course.” He has to know that, right? A guy like him definitely knows he’s attractive. “And usually… guys like you don’t hang out with… people like me, that’s all.”

You’re not sure where the sudden gust of courage comes from, considering you were so anxious moments ago– but the question spills out from your mouth before you can think twice about it.

“Why’d you want me to hang out with you?” You ask suddenly, turning to him.

“Maybe ‘cause I think yer cute,” he states simply as if it were an easy answer, leaning back and looking back at the TV.

You haven’t been paying attention to whatever movie Osamu turned on– What was this? Some slasher flick?-- Something with a girl shrieking at the top of her lungs while obviously fake blood pours out of her. It’s ridiculous and you would laugh if there wasn’t a weight weighing on your mind– the weight is also sitting right next to you.

No, you can’t notice the terrible special effects when you know Osmau is beside you– warm and taking up the majority of the space on the already small couch you’re both sitting on.

You can’t help but have your brain go into overdrive over what Osamu said. Did he just call you cute and then drop the topic? What were you supposed to do? Just watch the movie and just not address it? Is this what guys did? Is that how you flirt?-- you have a lack of answers. Mostly due to a lack of experience.

You spend the first thirty minutes of the movie wondering if you were just imagining Osamu slowly inching towards your half of the couch. By the time the first half of the movie is through and the killer is on his third victim, you decide you’re right when you realize that Osamu’s thigh is ghosting yours.

Now you really can’t deny it. 

A part of you thinks Osamu wants to be closer to you. 

But also, he could just be doing it subconsciously.

It’s probably the latter, but maybe…

“I can hear yer heartbeat from here,” Osamu practically chuckles from beside you.

“What?”

You try not to stammer it. You fail, anyway.

“I can tell that yer nervous, relax. I don’t bite.”

No, you’re certain that Osamu doesn’t bite. But you know that he’s close to you. Which could be worse. In fact, that is worse.

It’s worse because your senses are going haywire from how close he is.

You can tell he smells good. He smells better than whatever cologne sample you’ve ever smelled in a store or magazine. He smells like– what’s the term? Musky? Woody? You aren’t sure, you just know it’s slowly becoming your favorite scent.

You can feel his body heat, warm and consuming. You can hear his breaths– low and steady. You focus on all these other things to ignore the fact he’s boring his dark eyes straight into you.

“I got something for ya,” Osamu suddenly remarks. “Stay right there.”

You barely process what he says before he removes himself from the couch, and heads out of the living room.

Your brain isn’t able to overanalyze like it usually does because Osamu is back in about a minute. Your defenses are still up. What could he possibly have for you? Your mind is sprawling with questions as Osamu plops himself right back beside you.

“C’mere, this should help yer nerves,” Osamu hums, as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him.

You don’t ignore the way you feel his hands skimming over the sliver of exposed skin between your sweater and jeans, like hot coals brushing against you.

 “Ya never smoked before, right?”

“No, I’ve never…” You realize that what he was holding in between his fingers was a freshly rolled blunt.

“Would ya like to try?”

You couldn’t lie, you’ve always been curious to try, especially since your friends were always talking about how ‘amazing’ it made them feel and how it would do wonders for your nerves. 

You look at the blunt between his fingers cautiously and peek back at him.

“It’ll be okay, I got ya, nothing to worry yer pretty little head about.” 

Pretty. Did he call you pretty? He has you?-- Fuck it, you needed something to put out the fires of your nerves.

“Okay, let’s do it,” you nod meekly.

“Attagirl,” Osamu grinned lazily. You don’t even bother to think about that comment, either. If you did, you’d be dead in a minute.

You watch as Osamu digs around the coffee table for a lighter, which is conveniently laid out on the table, as if ready for this moment. You watch as he flicks a flame to the blunt. He languidly takes a hit, and the smoke that hits the air is pungent. You’re glad there’s a window cracked open so the smell doesn’t collect in the room. 

You should be studying his motions to mimic them for when it's your turn, but instead, you drink in the fact that he looks oh so fucking attractive. 

He leans back on the couch, and you watch the way he tips his head back to blow out the smoke into the air above. You study the way veins flow through his neck and the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he exhales. You feel– fuzzy, warm. Are you high already? There’s a heat creeping from your chest, and you think you feel dizzy.

Yeah, you’re high. Totally. That has to be it.

When Osamu takes a look back at you, you avert your stare to your lap– reminding yourself that you’re acting odd. Cool girls don’t gawk at a guy smoking a blunt, they would– Well, you have no idea what they would do actually because you’re not cool.

And that’s obvious from the way you look at the blunt in Osamu’s hand like he’s handing you an unpinned grenade.

Osamu clocks in on the terror painted on your face. It’s so obvious somebody ten miles away could probably sense the nerves emitting from your body. You’re hoping you aren’t giving the deer-in-headlights look you usually have.

But you definitely are.

Osamu’s face softens at you.

“Do ya still wanna try? Ya don’t have to if ya don’t wanna–”

“Nono! I wanna try it.” you nearly jump at Osamu’s words. You’re a lot of things– nervous, nerdy, probably weird if you asked the guy who sat next to you in chemistry, but maybe that’s because he’s seen you write in three separate color-coded planners before. 

“Alright,” Osamu chuckles as he watches you take the packed roll from him.

But you’re not a quitter.

There’s a sudden adrenaline rush for you, almost like you’re taking a shot of tequila. You pinch the blunt and raise it to your lips before taking a hit– your very first.

You make sure not to inhale much. You’re already on the verge of coughing from the taste alone. You pull it away, letting out a meek cough, as smoke expels from your mouth. It tastes shitty and gross, like you expected. But you feel good? 

“Not bad,” Osamu muses, and you realize he was watching you the entire time.

Osamu looks at you. He’s been looking at you a lot tonight, you realize.

But that doesn’t mean anything.

“I have no idea how you don’t cough,” you say, as you pass the blunt back to him. 

“Taste bad?” He grins lazily. His arm is still around your waist. It feels good, too.

“Horrible.” It doesn’t stop you from inhaling more of the sour smoke.

“Look at ya,” Osamu chuckles. “Like it, don’t ya?”

You’re making Osamu smile, laugh even. And it makes your head spin even faster.  It’s so good.

Good, good, good. 

Everything feels so fucking good.

Osamu makes you feel good.

“What are ya mumbling about?” Osamu asks plucking the blunt from your fingertips, and you snap out of it. Well, almost, the feeling is still pooling in your chest, head– everywhere.

“I just– I feel–”

“Feel what?”

You start giggling. Doesn’t Osamu feel it too?

But maybe he does because he’s smiling at you. It’s not the same giddy heart-melting feely smile you have plastered on, it’s more relaxed. But you almost could see… a bit of amusement.

“Figures ya would be a lightweight for yer first time– probably shouldn’t have given ya the strong shit, but’s all I had.”

“I wanna do it again,” you sleepily smile waiting for Osamu to pass you the blunt. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, Osamu pauses to look at you again. This time he seems… inquisitive. He looks at the roll between his fingers, and you can tell that he’s calculating something in his head– then he looks at you.

“Ya wanna try something?”

His voice is low and there’s that tone of interest again. 

“Try what?”

“It’s a… different way to take a hit.”

It doesn’t take much to convince you and you nod at him. You just wanted more. More of the good feeling, more of Osamu.

You expect him to pass you the blunt, maybe with some sort of instructions, but instead, he takes another hit. You’re about to ask whatever question you had before Osamu reaches for your chin and takes it firmly.

Despite your brain being foggy, your brain is working overtime. Osamu is touching you– staring at you. And now his face is ghosting yours. You’re close enough to notice the slightest freckle ghosting his left cheek. Were you always this warm? No, you’re burning. There’s a fire sweeping in your chest, your head, your face– everywhere. You’re so warm– Osamu’s so warm.

And there’s a moment where you zero in. Osamu isn’t exhaling.

You realize what he wants to do.

The smoke inside his mouth isn’t for him– it's for you.

Your lip doesn’t even quiver in the way it usually does whenever you blurt out something nervously. Instead, your lips part invitingly, and you barely even register Osamu has closed the distance until his lips are brushing against yours and there’s a wisp of smoke pooling from his mouth to yours.

Osamu still had one hand steadied on your chin and the other was caging you into the couch corner. The further the smoke spills into your mouth, the more you sink into the couch. You barely even register there’s no more smoke to inhale because your back hits the seat of the couch, and Osamu’s on top of you.

“There’s a freckle on your left ch– mmph!”

Osamu’s mashing his lips into yours in an instant. You didn’t even think there could be any more room for Osamu to close in– he was already so close to you– but you were wrong. 

The kissing– it’s sloppy, depraved, even. Your glasses press against your face painfully from how quickly Osamu pounced on you, so you pull them off your face, not even caring where you throw them. You both feverishly want more, more, more. Osamu’s grabbing at your hips, his hands big and pawing at you. Your own hands are mapping the outline of his shoulders through his shirt. Osamu’s large body dwarfs your own, his weight resting on you. Your hands feverishly grabbed at him as your lips chased after the feeling you’ve been relishing– the good feeling– the feeling is pouring straight into your lips like rushing water and you’re drinking it in. It marries itself with the dizzy euphoric feeling clouding in your mind. So, so good.

He’s everywhere– you feel him everywhere. Your head is spinning. Osamu’s lips– coated in saliva mixing with your chapstick, pull you in even further. You don’t even know how you’re breathing, you haven’t gone for air in what feels like years.

But Osamu, selfishly, wants more. And so do you. So you don’t protest when you feel him rut his hips directly into yours– the throbbing bulge in his pants hitting that sweet spot you weren’t even aware was wanting for more. You moan feverishly against Osamu’s lips, the sound barely spilling out against him.

Osamu pulls himself off your lips, burying his face into the crook of your neck so you can feel every rugged heavy breath against your skin.

“Fuck, baby.” He’s panting, his hips grinding deeper into yours. The sweatpants he’s wearing, the jeans you have on, it’s too many layers. You’re unashamedly pawing at Osamu’s pants, begging for him to take them off so you can feel more.

“‘Samu, please,” you whine. You don’t even think of the nervous, shy, girl who walked into the apartment a few hours ago. She had been replaced with someone more desperate, unashamed in being so greedy for more.

Osamu doesn’t need to ask what you’re asking for, before shrugging off his pants and kicking them off somewhere on the floor. And in a moment, he’s unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off you like it’s burning you. Osamu’s already dark eyes– grow even darker at the sight of the wet spot growing on your panties and your sweater riding up your stomach.

“Please, please,” you cry with moans of his name in the absence of movement.

“Tell me what ya want,” Osamu pants.

“Wanna feel good.”

“Fuck,” he groans, before lowering his face to meet your stomach. He trails wet, firm kisses along your stomach, trailing down until his face is centered with your dripping cunt– clearly begging for more the way it clenches when you feel his hot breath ghosting the outside of your panties.

You absentmindedly grab at his hair, pushing him further to your aching cunt, encouraging him to continue– practically pleading the way you attempt to grind your pussy into him.

Osamu yanks off whatever panties you had on, and you swear you hear fabric ripping. But you couldn’t care less when you feel Osamu’s tongue languidly lick a stripe against your slit before beginning to circle your clit.

Your back arches off the couch and your wanton moans fill the empty air. You hope that Osamu’s didn’t have thin walls. But when Osamu suddenly slips a finger into your– it’s suddenly the least of your worries. 

The combination of Osamu’s tongue suckling at your clit and his now two fingers pumping in and out of you sends you into ecstasy. Every nerve in your body was vibrating as your head clouded between the weed running through your system and Osamu buried in his pussy eating you out like his life depended on it. Fuck what you smoked, Osamu was the real drug.

There’s a moment where your nerves pinch together– and everything in your chest collects, all those funny feelings turning hot and heavy in your lower stomach, before you cum. And you cum, hard.

You grab Osamu’s hair at the roots with a moan– no, scream, almost reflective of the horror movie actress you were making fun of earlier, as you coated Osamu’s face with slick. You don’t even realize how much it was until Osamu raises his head and his mouth reflects glossily.

You’re swimming in the hazy cloud of pleasure for a while, until your breathing steadies and you’re settling into the couch with heavy pants.

“Not bad for yer first time, right?” Osamu chuckles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What?” H-how did he know–

“Yer first time smoking?” Osamu smirks as he pulls himself up so he can sit on the couch.

“Oh, y-yeah,” you mumble, pulling your sweater down so you can cover your lower half.

You avert your gaze from Osamu, embarrassed by the lack of clothes you had on. You felt a tinge more sober now– enough to realize that it was way past the time you thought you’d stay. The movie credits weren’t even playing anymore– the TV had just gone into sleep mode. Osamu notices this too when he takes a glance out the window.

You think about what he said. Your first time was good. And maybe… Maybe you should try having more firsts.

“It’s late, ya shouldn’t be walkin’ home at this hour–” So that’s why…

“Ya wanna just crash here?”

You let Osamu take another first.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

LIKES, REBLOGS, COMMENTS, & TAGS ARE APPRECIATED + HELP ENCOURAGE YOUR LOCAL WRITER (ME)! ♡

[sturnioz]

How would fb!chris react if he accidentally hurt shy!reader? (Maybe burns her with a lighter or something?)

And how would shy!reader react if she accidentally hurt fb!chris (maybe she nut taps him somehow? Idk)

NUT TAP LMAO

── ♯; fratboy!chris accidentally hurting shy!reader.

chris isn't quite sure how it happens. all he remembers is mindlessly flicking his lighter on and off while scrolling through his phone, and suddenly, a sharp, painful yelp pierces the air. he turns to see you, your eyes welling with fat tears, cradling yur arm against your chest, your bottom lip wobbling.

"what?" he snaps, confused and irritated. "what happened? what did you do?"

"you burnt me!" you wail, your voice thick with tears, hiccupping between each word. chris' first reaction is one of offense; how could you blame him for something like that?

he opens his mouth to retort, but his words catch in his throat when he sees the angry blister forming on the skin of your arm.

"shit," he murmurs, dropping the lighter onto the bedside table to reach for your arm, but you flinch way, refusing to let him as you pull back, and that causes him to grunt. "let me see it. i need to see it, kid."

after some hesitancy, you extend your arm, and he takes hold of it, pulling it closer to inspect the skin, and a grimace settles on his face at the sight of it.

"shiiit... you — y'know i didn't mean that, right? wouldn't hurt you on purpose, like, you know that yeah?" chris glances up, meeting your tearful eyes, seeking some sort of reassurance. but something shifts, and he continues. "you — you shouldn't have been fuckin' messin' around beside me anyway 'cos i didn't even have the lighter close to you—"

"chris," you cut him off, sniffling, clearly not wanting to be blamed right now. in that moment, he realises what he's doing and he bites down hard on his cheek, wrestling with his emotions.

"right. right, yeah," chris coughs, trying to mask his discomfort. "i.. m'sorry, bun. okay? didn't.. didn't mean it. i wasn't payin' attention."

you sniffle again and nod, seemingly accepting his apology. chris nods along with you before he slips out of the bed, scratching the back of his neck as he disappears into the bathroom, heart racing a bit.

a few seconds later, he returns with a first-aid kit in hand, the plastic clattering softly against his thigh when he sits back down opposite you, and he notices the confusion on your tear-streaked faced.

"burnt myself a few times. know what m'doin', alright? gonna.. gonna need you t'be brave, 'kay kid?"

you remain silent, save for the occasional hiccup and sniffle, as he opens the kit and pulls out a few antiseptic wipes and a roll of gauze. he rips open the packet with a quick motion, glancing up to meet your eyes for a split second.

"might sting.." he warns you. "but uh.. but it'll help."

as he gently dabs the wipe on your burn, you flinch in pain, a small whimper escaping your lips. chris grits his teeth, tightening his grip around the wipe, scrunching his nose in concentration as he carefully applies the gauze afterward.

"there we go," chris murmurs, finally securing the gauze in place. "just keepin' it clean. need to keep it clean." he meets your gaze again, scratching his cheek awkwardly as he adds. "y'did good, bun.. uh, brave. yeah."

── ♯; shy!reader accidentally hurting fratboy!chris.

you had got a bit overly excited.

you have been waiting for your results on your latest assignment for days, chewing the skin around your thumb, your nerves a mess as you repeatedly check your emails, waiting for the response from your professor.

then, it finally arrives — that email with your perfect score, and a joyful squeal erupts from your throat, echoing off the walls in the room. you can't help yourself; kicking your legs and flailing your arms in a fit of pure happiness, not even noticing that you are rolling toward chris, who lies beside you, blissfully oblivious and lost in a haze from smoking.

but then, in an instant, everything changes. your wild flailing fist makes contact with his balls, and your happiness shatters like glass when chris lets out a sound that is a half grunt, half gasp, his eyes snapping shut as he curls up in agony — that relaxed, floaty feeling he was experiencing, vanishing.

you freeze, your eyes widening in horror as you drop your phone, a gasp fleeting past your lips as you stare at him.

"fuck!" chris hisses, his voice strained. he squeezes his eyes tighter, cupping his balls protectively. "fuck.. fuck, you fuckin' b—" he stops mid-sentence with a sharp groan, and you know exactly what is about to call you, and you can't blame him.

"sorry sorry sorry sorry, i'm so so sorry," you panic through stammers, crawling closer to him, your heart racing as you reach out to touch his bicep. "chris, i'm really—"

"shut up." he grunts, cutting you off sharply. "just be fuckin' quiet — shit."

you jump out of the bed, your feet carrying you out of the bedroom as you flee downstairs, avoiding the weird and curious looks from other frat brothers as you dash into the kitchen, where matt stands in the corner, a peanut butter-covered rice cake frozen halfway to his mouth, watching you rummage frantically through the freezer to search for anything that might help chris.

you grab a bag of frozen veggies — a makeshift remedy — and sprint back up the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest. you catch a glimpse of nate as you pass, his eyebrows raised in confusion, but you don't stop to explain; you're too focussed on getting back to chris.

you burst back into the room, holding the back of veggies in your hands like it's a precious lifeline and hurry over to him, holding it out for him to take.

"seriously?" he manages to strain out, a mixture of disbelief and annoyance in his voice. reluctantly, he grabs the bag, grimacing as he places it down on his crotch, hissing softly in discomfort.

you watch him for a moment, your heart still racing. "i really didn't mean to—" you begin, but he shoots you a look that silences you, causing you to close your mouth instantly as you sit down on the edge of the bed, gnawing at your bottom lip.

[number1mingyustan]

Honey ☾

bf!vernon x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing, cursing, drug use (marijuana), smoking, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of oral (f.), squirting, slight breast play, reader has nipple piercings

Summary: A couple of honey packets, a freshly rolled blunt, and hours to kill, but can you keep up?

Word Count: 2.6k

—————————————————————————

The Morning - The Weeknd

The smooth blade tears through the cardboard box in your hands. Vernon sits on the couch beside you, hunched over the tray as his hands skillfully roll the blunt.

You open the box, pulling out the black and gold packets. You stand to your feet, discarding the cardboard and leaving the packets on the table in front of you. You plop down on the couch with a small thud beside your boyfriend.

"Where did you even find out about that stuff?" Your boyfriend asks, eyes focused on rolling the blunt in his hands.

You shrug. "Somewhere online, TikTok I think."

He wipes his hands off, leaving the perfectly rolled blunt on the ashtray. He holds his hand out and you hand him one of the black and gold packages. He inspects it carefully.

"It tastes like regular honey?" He questions.

You shrug again. "Pretty sure. Just makes you super horny."

He digs into his pocket for a lighter and pulls you onto his lap.

"Ladies first,." He says.

You pick up the blunt, placing it between your glossed lips. He flicks the lighter, sparking the blunt, and watches you inhale.

His eyes scan over your face slowly. You exhale, blowing the smoke into his face with a grin. He smiles back at you, thoughts filling his mind about how beautiful you look in this moment, how beautiful you always look.

You take another hit and he tears open one of the honey packets. The sweet honey trickles down his throat and he licks his lips slowly. You take a couple more hits before handing him the blunt.

He places it between his lips, smoking through the perfectly rolled blunt. You tear open another packet, drinking the sweet gold. You climb off your boyfriend's lap, adjusting the speakers in the living room and connecting your phone.

You turn on one of your playlists before circling back to Vernon's lap. He hands you the blunt and you two take turns smoking through the entire thing.

____

Vernon leans back into the plush couch. His eyes are half-lidded, limiting his vision to a near squint. His head tilts so he's looking at you.

"It's hittin?" He asks with a smirk.

Your teeth pull at your bottom lift softly and you nod. "Yeah," You say in just above a whisper.

"C'mere."

He pulls you back onto his lap. He doesn't even remember you climbing off of him. His tongue runs over his lips as he stares at you with hazy eyes.

Fuck, he's so hot.

You blink slowly, bringing your hands to his chest. You press your forehead against his and allow your eyes the fall shut. Wordlessly, you close the gap separating the two of you.

Your lips press against his softly. His hands circle your waist, holding you still on his lap. One of your hands comes up, cupping his cheek softly as the kiss intensifies.

It feels like there's a current flowing through your veins, electrifying your touches. You moan against his lips, tasting the sweetness of the honey on his tongue.

He's hardly touched you and you're throbbing. You can feel your panties dampening as the seconds pass and all he's done is kiss you. Luckily for you, he's enjoying this just as much as you are.

His hard cock pokes at your inner thigh. It twitches beneath the confines of his sweats, aching for more. His hands tug at your tank top.

You break the kiss for a moment, allowing him to pull your top off. You're not wearing anything else underneath, so your pierced tits sit pretty in front of him.

"Fuck..." He groans.

Your body feels hot. Your blood is overheating in your veins, rushing through your body. You feel lightheaded in the best way possible. Your entire body feels light like you're floating high up in the atmosphere.

He latches his mouth onto one of your tits. His warm tongue glides across the cold metal of your piercing, sending shivers through your body. You gasp at the initial contact, arching your back.

Such a simple act has never felt so good. Your core throbs with need, aching to be tended to properly. The sensation of his tongue gliding across your nipple drives you mad.

With a soft pop, he releases your hardened bud and moves on to the next. Your back arches again when his tongue glides across the cold piercing.

Your body grinds down on his very prominent bulge, creating friction to relieve the tension in your lower half. Fuck, it feels so good.

Even through the layer separating you two, you can already feel yourself getting closer to an orgasm. You can't remember the last time you've gotten this close this fast, and completely untouched? It's unheard of.

But everything around you feels like its intensity has been brought up by 100. Even through the layers, his cock brushes against your clit and you mewl, allowing soft cries of pleasure to evade your lips.

The music plays dimply in the background. The familiar sultry tune of a song by The Weeknd fills the room.

I'm fucking gone right now

I'm fucking gone right now

You suspect he must feel it too, because he stops and lifts you off his lips. He looks up at you with hazy eyes as his chest rises and falls. He's already breathless and panting from the sheer intensity of it all.

And when you break contact, you fucking whine. You never whine.

You're not the only one just barely holding onto your sanity. You see the wet patch on his sweatpants and feel your pussy throb again. Vernon feels like you're sucking all the life out of him and reviving him at the same time. He feels so much in this moment, his brain can't fully process anything but the pleasure and it's sending him into overdrive.

But he exhibits self-control nonetheless. After getting his hormones pumped up with that honey and high from the weed, he wasn't going to let his first orgasm be in his pants. He needs to experience it inside of you and it'll be so much more worth it. But not until he's had a taste/

From the mornin' to the evenin'

Complaints from the tenants

He lays you down on the couch, peeling off your sweatpants.

"Need to taste you," He breathes out.

He pulls off your damp panties, tossing them onto the floor as his body hovers over yours.

His mouth is practically watering. He can imagine the sweet taste of you on his tongue and it only makes his desire for you burn more. you pull at his shirt, bringing his face down to yours.

Your noses bump against one another.

Sky's gettin' cold, we're flying from the north

Rockin' with our city like a sold-out show

"Later," You groan. "I need you inside of me."

Your voice is soft, yet it's laced with pure unadulterated desperation. It's a kind of desire that burns in your chest and doesn't settle until it's fulfilled thoroughly.

It's not a want, but a need that your body craves. All your fuzzy mind can think about is him and the desire that courses through your body rampantly.

Fast life grippin'

Yeah, we still tippin'

He can't deny you, not when his cock is so hard and aching. It's practically tearing through the material of his sweats, twitching and pulsing against the fabric.

His hot bold pumps through his body, rushing toward his swollen cock. He needs you just as bad as you need him, he can have a taste later.

He nods, scrambling to pull off his shirt. You make it easier for him, pulling down his sweats and tossing them. His cock strains against his grey brief, wet stain even more prominent on the thinner layer.

Girls get timing

But behind closed doors, they get poles so rigid

You spread your legs for him, exposing your dripping wet pussy. His breath catches in his throat at the sight. He hardly touched you and you're already so wet.

More precum dribbles from the tip of his flushed cock. He can't take it anymore.

Cock in hand, he guides his length into you. The moment his tip brushes against you, he's a goner. The two of you shiver, moaning out in unison as his tip enters your walls.

It's electrifying and intense. He grips the plush couch above you, nails digging into the material to ground himself as he fills you up slowly.

He chokes on his breath, feeling the way your warmth envelopes him. He's suffocating, drowning in you and all your being. At this moment, he's not sure if it's the honey or the weed, or both, but the intensity and intimacy are almost unbearable in the way they consume both of you.

All that money, the money is the motive

All that money, the money she be foldin'

It's never felt this good before. You fear this is a high you'll be chasing for the rest of your life. The stretch of his cock is intense, it feels like he's splitting you open in the best way possible. When he slides in, you feel like you're above the clouds, as through he is stretching you out into a state of inexplicable bliss.

Your nails dig into the material of the couch next to you and you cry out when he fills you up properly. His tip nuzzles against the walls deep inside of you.

"Oh fuck," You whine.

Girl, put in work, girl girl put in work

The motion and intimacy of it all cause your brain to spin. It leaves you dizzy, overwhelmed by the chaotic emotions and sensations that somehow create a harmonious flow inside of you.

And when he bottoms out, it feels like he breathes life back into you. His hips snap back and he thrusts into you, knowing the air out of your lungs.

"Ah, shit," He moans.

You arch your back, letting out a sob that he forces out of your lungs.

Push it to the limit

Push it through the pain

Your entire being is filled with pure pleasure. Every motion build a sensation that courses through your entire body and satisfies something deep inside of you.

His nails dig deeper into the couch, nearly ruining the plush material. His arm hovers above you, muscles flexing as his body goes into overdrive at the addictive feeling of you.

I push it for the pleasure like a virgin to the game

He fits your legs up, placing them over his shoulder so he can drill into you deeper. Your lips can hardly form a coherent sound. You whine and cry out as he overwhelms you with pleasure.

Closer to the top

The higher that I climb

The harder imma drop

He drills into the spot deep inside of you that drives you mad. You're gushing around him, arousal coating his bare cock and dripping onto the couch. You could care less about the mess when he feels so good.

His cock is so sensitive, but he can't stop fucking you. He hasn't cum yet and your warmth is sucking him in so well. He fits you like a mold and he can feel the way your walls stretch round him. He can feel the way you gush and coat his cock with your arousal. He can feel everything and all he wants to do is bask in it.

His other hand slips between your thighs, gathering your wetness on the pads of his fingertip.

Shit I got them on straight bar hoppin'

To the music of the ambiance, get that shit poppin'

His thumb circles your clit in quick circles and your body shudders. You squirm beneath him, but the position he has you in makes it difficult for you to run.

His pace doesn't falter, fucking you thoroughly. He can't stop, pushing his cock into you over and over again, tip nudging against the deep patch that makes your legs shake.

Your eyes roll back into your head. "Ah-fuck ah. Vernon-uh!"

All that money, the money is the motive

All that money, the money she be foldin'

Girl put in work, girl, girl put in work

The jumble of emotions and sensations boil over inside of you. They're running rampant and pilling out and there's no way to suppress it. It overflows, tears spilling out of your eyes as you cry out to him.

Better slow down, she'll feel it in the morning

Ain't the kind of girl you'll be seein' in the mornin'

Too damn raw

It all builds and hits you instantly. It builds and erupts quicker than you can process. It all gathers in your lower tummy, pussy reaction to every sensation. You flutter around him, sucking him in deeper as he drills into you.

He fucks you through your orgasm, only pulling out momentarily when the rush of liquid flows out of you and covers his lower half. He's quick to fill you up again, ignoring the mess you've just made.

All that money, the money is the motive

All that money, the money she be foldin'

Girl put in work, girl, girl put in work

Your entire body spasms beneath him uncontrollably. He holds you in place, forcing you to lay there and take it, limiting your squirming. But it's so much, almost too much. Your body struggles to process everything that's happening. Your mind is hazy and your eyes roll deep into the back of your head.

It's the longest orgasm you've ever experienced. His hips don't let up, drawing out more from you until your body reaches exhaustion. Momentarily, you feel your consciousness slipping away. It’s a brief flicker, but you nearly find yourself passing out.

His hips roll steadily until his orgasm catches up to him. His body still craves for more, but the reaction catches up to him. "Oh fuck-fuck-fuck–fuuuuuck."

Much like yours, his orgasm is drawn out past experience. His hips move seemingly on their own, continuing to drill into you as he milks himself dry. His cock twitches as he empties himself into you.

The arm holding him up grows shaky and he struggles to support himself. His sweaty body falls on top of yours, chest rising as falling as he desperately draws air into his lungs.

Minutes go by before you two recover enough to move. He lifts himself onto his arms slowly, pulling out of you and sitting up on the couch. His cock is swollen and red, and still throbbing and hard. His cock aches for more, fighting against the exhaustion in his body and the haze in his mind.

Your body aches for more too, throbbing and tightening around nothing when he pulls out. You still feel the warmth in your blood, your body desperate for more despite its lack of recovery.

He looks at you with the same hazy look in his eyes. They're half-lidded, matching the desire in your pupils.

His body hovers over yours once again. He breathes deeply, licking his lips slowly. His cock twitches, pressing against your inner thigh. You blink at him slowly, half-lidded eyes sucking him in more.

Without wasting another second, his lips are on yours again. It's intoxicating, drawing you in deeper and deeper. You can't help yourselves, repeatedly laying it into one another into the hours of the night. In the kitchen, on the floor ,and on the balcony before finding ends meet in the bedroom.

Your desire for each other overpowers everything until you come down, sweaty bodies maxxing out from exhaustion in each other's arms.

—————————————————————————

© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[lalunanymph]

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 — nanami kento

feeling overwhelmed and drained by the demands of life, nanami kento finally succumbs to the pressure—seeking solace and a late-night connection through a sex hotline. however, what unfolds next is more than what he bargained for.

tw. daddy kink, voice s[e]x, voice kink, degrading language, reader is a sex worker at a hotline, nanami is a salaryman, no curses AU

masterlist

CHAPTER 1

“Oh, fuck, yes, yes. Right there, Daddy – oh y-yes, right there.”

“You like this, you little whore?”

You whimpered, bending down a little to inspect the nail polish drying on your toes. Stifling a yawn, you murmured into the receiver, “Yes, Daddy. Love it so much. M’your little whore.”

The man’s voice was wheezy, sounding a little too old for your liking. He probably smoked ten packets of cigs a day judging from the rasp at the end of his sentences. He cursed too much as well, and though you made it a habit to try not to picture your clients, it was hard not to when you were this bored out of your mind.

He was most likely an aging, balding man in his 40s, who was bored with the sex his steadfast but oblivious wife was giving him. Maybe she knew of his auditory… deviances, and didn’t comment on it. Some of the women were like that; as long as there was no physical connection involved, they would let these slimy excuses of fathers and husbands off the hook.

“You cumming?”

You nod before forgetting that he couldn’t see and exhaled out an exaggerated moan.

“Ohh yess,” you threw in a whimper to excite him. “Fuck, Daddy, I-I’m–”

Your perfectly practiced high-pitched moans were eliciting hoarse groans from him. You could hear the tell-tale signs of his slick wrist pumping his length and you glanced at the clock.

Maybe you still had time to order takeout before the restaurants closed. Hurrying him up, you gave little breathy whispers of, “Yes, yes, right there, oh right there. Please, please, please—” you choked out a moan and heard him spew a stream of curses.

A loud exhale signalled that he had climaxed and you breathed in a sigh of relief.

The man on the other end gave a sated chuckle. “Shit, sweetheart. You’re good. I’ll tip you.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you purred, waiting for the beep on your phone that told you the transaction was complete. “Same time next week?”

His low chuckle made you wrinkle your nose. “Careful, babydoll. I think you might start to like me.”

“Of course,” you said in a sickly sweet voice. “You’re one of Angel Lips’s favourite.”

He exhaled and muttered, “Same time next week, Cherry,” and set the phone down.

You breathed out and threw your phone down onto your paisley sheets, your shift officially over.

A ping on your phone made you glance over at the screen. It was your boss, Liza, who texted the schedule for tomorrow’s shifts into the group chat. The other girl’s acknowledged her, but you couldn’t be half-assed. You were good at what you did, but you didn’t play pretend to suck up to her ass.

Liza mentioned you in the group and asked if you could take over another girl’s shift and you blatantly left her on read.

You turned your phone over and sat up, stretching. The oversized t-shirt that you wore rode up your thighs and you scratched your stomach.

A knock on your door made you jump and you hurried, opening it to find your roommate, Rachel, on the other end. Her peroxide blonde hair was in a high ponytail and she wore a smirk.

“Playtime’s over?”

“Fuck, yes,” you said and pushed past her. “I’m fucking starving.”

She trailed after you, snorting. “Good. I bought you some ramen, you skank.”

You threw her a mock glare that melted into a fake pout. “Aw. You do care. Even if you did call me a skank.”

Rachel rolled her eyes, flopping down onto your threadbare couch. “As long as you pay your half of the rent, I don’t care what you do, Y/N.”

You sniffed and poured the soup and noodles out into a bowl. Sitting down next to her, you flicked her legs on your side of the couch, ignoring her huff of annoyance.

“Did you hear that asshole is going to increase rent again?”

You swallow the noodles hard. “Seriously? Someone should sue him.”

Rachel gave another one of her unladylike snorts. “With what money?”

You tried not to grimace, mentally making a note to text Liza back and begrudgingly accept the extra shift.

“I’m telling you, Nanami,” Gojo crowed, thumping his colleague’s back. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Nanami closed his eyes, hoping that if he did, the silver-haired nuisance in front of him would dissipate into thin air. As it was, Gojo Satoru was never one for tack and pushed a card into his stiff fingers.

Despite his hesitance, the blonde flipped the card over and written in bold letters were the words: ‘Angel Lips – where we whisper your pleasure’ scrawled in a neon pink font with a lace overlay. In the corner was a phone number he could reach. He set the card down as if it was an unholy object and levelled his colleague with a glare.

“Real mature, Gojo,” he scoffed, losing appetite for the sandwich in front of him.

Not one for backing down from a challenge, Gojo tried to change his mind. “Oi, Nanami. C’mon. You’re so stressed you look older than me, for goodness sake! Don’t you want to loosen up a bit–”

“With a sex hotline?” he deadpanned.

“Eh, don’t knock it till you try it.”

Nanami scoffed and slung his suit jacket over his broad shoulder. “Is this how you spend your time? Throwing money at women who are paid to whisper nasty stuff to you?”

Undeterred, Gojo pushed the sleeves of his work shirt over his biceps, throwing his colleague a smirk. His cerulean blue eyes peered over a pair of dark sunglasses and Nanami wondered just how someone like him could be accepted into the world of stocks and bonds. Satoru would scare half of his clientele away if he wasn’t infuriatingly good at predicting market trends.

“Like I said,” Gojo repeated, winking. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

He sauntered away, hand raised in a half-salute. Nanami resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his attention drawn to the salacious card on the cafeteria table. He was in a dilemma. If he left the card there, people would know it was from their table. The company was small and everyone had a designated table that was intrinsically theirs and this tiny one in the corner was his and Gojo’s.

Despite Satoru’s infuriating countenance, Nanami sort of liked hanging out with him for lunch, though he would rather watch paint dry and take notes on it rather than admit it to his friend.

He swiftly picked the card and pocketed it, intending to throw it into the trash once he reached the safety of his apartment.

Nanami walked back to his office, his department building located away from Satoru’s one.

Part of him wondered why someone as young and good-looking as Gojo Satoru needed to call a sex hotline to get some action. All he had to do was peer over those sunglasses and he would have any girl in his bed for the night.

“Tch. Asshole.” Nanami was affronted. 

The fact that his friend had recommended him a sex hotline to relieve his stress was beyond insulting. He always thought it was rather pathetic how men would spend thousands on a woman who would pocket it and then never see him again. It was too transactional for him; too cold.

The card burned like a teasing siren’s call in his breast pocket and he ignored the urge to tear it in half and toss it to the ground like a madman.

It was a good thing that today was Friday and he would have two days on his own. The market was in a cyclical downturn and many investors were bearish on their stocks. Nanami had spent the whole week putting out fires that were started by his incompetent subordinate. He deserved a drink and a long bath when he returned home.

The day flashed past and soon, evening drenched his office windows. Nanami stood up, stretching lightly and bundled his suit jacket in his arms.

A nervous laugh reached his ears. “N-Nanami-san. You’re heading back?” It was his subordinate, Kei, a fresh graduate who had just come in two weeks ago after a gap year in South Mexico.

He gave his colleague a mild look and nodded.

Despite the clear signs that Nanami had no interest in a conversation, Kei pushed on.

“Got a date for tonight?”

He raised a fair brow.

Why was everyone suddenly interested in his love life today?

He left the question unanswered as he packed his briefcase. “Have a good weekend, Kei.”

His subordinate shot up and bowed to him, wishing him a safe and pleasant trip back home. He tutted at the show of grand respect, muttering at him to sit back down as he took his leave.

Traffic was horrendous and there were drunk people already loitering in the streets. Nanami pulled up to his parking spot, taking a moment to let the silence of his car set in before slowly trudging back to his apartment.

The moment the heavy doors closed behind him, Nanami sagged against the wall, closing his eyes. His briefcase dropped down to the ground with a dull thud and he inhaled deeply, the exhaustion from the week catching up to him.

Still with his eyes closed, he tugged at the knot on his tie, loosening it and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. The fatigue hit him like a ton of bricks and he exhaled, begrudgingly glad that the weekend was here.

Fresh from the shower, Nanami wrapped a towel around his waist, the beads of water glistening down his back and abdomen. He picked his work shirt from the floor, turning it around and shaking it before tossing it into the hamper. He took a step forward, wincing when he felt the sharp edge of something stabbing into his foot.

Bending down, he realised what it was and scoffed. The bawdy card was between his fingers and he contemplated throwing it into the trash can by his bed, but a gut feeling stopped him. He set it down on his side table instead. Slipping into a cotton shirt and sweatpants, he sat down at the edge of his bed, wondering how best to fill this pocket of spare time.

He supposed he could read.

The pile of books that he had neglected sat on the foot of his bed and he reached for one, balancing it in his hand. Cracking open the book, he tried to read, but it was futile. The card was like a beam, drawing his attention and Namami growled, picking up the inoffensive slip of paper, about to tear it when he stopped.

The numbers teased and taunted him. When was the last time he had a conversation with a woman?

The dating game vexed him. He had gone out on a few excursions, mostly on Gojo’s encouragement, but he never seemed to find someone to click with. The women Satoru threw in his way were either too uptight or became clingy after two dates, thinking he belonged exclusively to them and demanding his full time and attention.  

Nanami supposed that he had enough self-awareness to know that he was emotionally unavailable. So, what was the harm in indulging in this frivolous impulse?

Twirling the square between his fingers, he set it down, sighing in surrender as he grabbed his phone.

Keying in the number from the card, he pressed the intimidating ‘call’ button and waited… and waited. The dial tone kept on ringing and he contemplated ending the call when it clicked and a woman’s smooth voice greeted him on the other end.

“Good evening and welcome to the Angel Lips hotline. This is Leela speaking. How may I help you?”

Nanami cleared his throat. “Uh, hello. I… I was given this card by a friend and…” he trailed off, not sure what to say. The tips of his ear felt hot.

The woman chuckled, reassuring him that this was normal and he didn’t need to be embarrassed because they were professionals and would promise discretion. “All you have to do is choose which girl you want to speak to and we’ll link you to her.”

Nanami nodded. “So—uh—which girls are available for tonight?”

“There’s Silky. She specialises in femdom. Do you know what that is, sir?”

He did know exactly what it was and winced. “Um, no, thank you. If I wanted to be degraded I would speak to my boss.”

Her tinkling laughter was comforting. She moved on to the next option. “There’s Marie. She’s more of a vanilla one. And then we have Cherry—she’s one of the best in our repertoire.”

“What is she good at?”

“Well, sir, she loves powerful men and has a huge Daddy kink.”

Nanami paused for a split second, intrigued.

“Hmm. I think… I guess Cherry sounds interesting.”

“Sure,” the smooth voice said. “I’ll link you to her. Give me a second.”

Nanami leaned back against his headboard.

There was a disengaged click and then, a different voice answered.

“Hello?”

This voice was different from the cordial one that had greeted him earlier. It was honeyed but not cloyingly sweet, with just enough of a demure purr underneath to hint at the speaker’s sensuality.

“Hey. Uh… hi.”

The voice giggled and she exhaled sweetly. “First time?”

Nanami cleared his throat. Get it together, Kento. 

“Yeah. You can tell?”

“I can always tell,” she purred.

Nanami set his book down and drew his knees to his broad chest. “Oh yeah? How?”

Her exhaled laughter didn’t need to sound that seductive. Unbidden, a flicker of heat rushed down his spine.

“Because,” she whispered, “I love teasing the new ones. You all are so fun to figure out.”

You glanced at your phone in annoyance as a message reached you.

‘#409’ was all that was written in the text from an unknown number. The code was familiar to you; it meant that a customer was on the other end. Dialling into a clandestine hotline, you waited for the call to click and when it did, you put on your most saccharine tone.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Uh… hi.”

A gruff but deep voice filtered through the receiver and you felt goosebumps rise on your skin.

Resisting the urge to clear your throat to find your balance, you sweetened your voice.

“First time?”

It was he who cleared his throat and he uttered, “Yeah. You can tell?”

You were back on track. “I can always tell,” you teased him.

He exhaled and chuckled. “So… how do we start?”

“Eager, huh?” You didn’t know why it was so easy to poke fun at him, but it seemed like he didn’t mind one bit.

“Maybe.”

You sank back onto your bed. “Do you want to know what I’m wearing?”

There was silence at the other end before he muttered, “Sure. I guess.”

“I’m wearing nothing, actually,” you said, fingering the hem of your oversized shirt.

“Huh. Aren’t you cold?”

You furrowed your brow. Was this man serious?

Scoffing, you purred, “What are you, like my dad or something?” Knowing you had a good opening, you speared him with the follow-up: “Or do you wanna be my Daddy?”

Silence echoed from the other end. You had to check your receiver to see if the call was still operating.

There was a shaky breath and you heard him whisper, “I wanna be your Daddy.”

Fuck, yes. Finally, you were getting somewhere with him.

“Mhm,” you whined, laying down on the mattress. “Tell me what you want, Daddy.”

“I want you… to have a good time, princess.”

Licking your lips, you whispered, “How, Daddy?”

“Start by telling me the truth, princess. What are you really wearing?”

Your confusion echoed through the lack of words. He chuckled deeply.

“I heard material rustling when you laid down on your bed. There was the creak of a spring.”

You held your breath.

“So, tell me, Princess. What exactly are you wearing? Spare me no detail.”

You felt like you were threading through dangerous waters now, but didn’t pull back when the currents started to beckon. “A-an oversized t-shirt, Daddy.”

“Anything underneath?”

Not bad. He sounded like such a tease. 

“Cotton panties.”

You heard him exhale shakily. “What colour?”

“White.”

You’ve never heard him moan before, but it was beautiful.

Everything about his voice was downright salacious.

His voice was like the richest bourbon of an Old Fashioned Chocolate cocktail that you had treated yourself to one hazy night in Roppongi with Rachel and her friends. It sank deep into your chest and spread warmth down your body, right to your aching pussy.

As cliche as it was, he was different from the others.

He didn’t come off too lewdly or immediately started jackhammering his cock, urging you to whisper filthy accompaniments as he reached his high.

This man knew what he was doing.

He was good at this.

“Take off your panties.”

Heart in your throat, you did as he said, sliding your cotton panties off and throwing them to the floor.

“Did you do it?”

Your breathy whisper sounded needy even to your own ears. “Y-yes.”

“Good girl.”

At those words, your core ached almost pathetically and you whimpered.

“Daddy,” you moaned, “Wanna touch right where it hurts.”

“It hurts?” He grunted and you could hear the rustle of material at his end of the call. You closed your eyes, picturing him removing his hardened cock from the confines of his designer slacks.

He sounded powerful; someone like a CEO or a businessman. Someone who probably wore sharp suits and expensive cologne. Someone who strictly drank whiskey and had good tastes and a pretty apartment that was stylishly decorated with the latest designs.

It downright thrilled you to have an image of him like this—a powerful man trying to reduce you to your knees. 

His next words left you breathing harder, ready to combust. “Then, touch yourself, princess.”

Two fingers met your aching clit, teasing the wetness and spreading it around your folds. You were already soaked for him. Sliding one finger into your quivering pussy, you envisioned that it would be his fingers that were doing this.

He would have nice fingers, too. Trimmed and filed with soft hands.

Years of being in this business made you somewhat of an expert at uncovering how a person looked and acted based on their voice alone.

“I can hear how wet you are.”

You set your phone down, putting him on speaker. Rachel was out with her boyfriend and staying over at his place for the whole weekend. There was no one at home in the apartment tonight and you could be as loud as you want.

“I am,” you whispered. “I’m so wet, right now.”

“All for me?”

The edge of desperation in his voice made your back arch and your toes curl.

“Just for you.”

Jesus, fuck. Focus, Y/N. 

You were the one who was supposed to be pleasuring him, not the other way around.

Another voice, one that was more rebellious told you to screw it and embrace spontaneity. When was the last time a man had truly gotten you off?

That’s right. Never. Except for… No, you didn’t want to think of him. Not right now when you were being edged to the strongest orgasm of your life.

You curled your fingers deep in your pussy, hitting a spot that made you squirm. 

“Daddy,” you whined. “Talk to me. What’re you doing now?”

His breathy grunts made your insides clench in anticipation. “I’m stroking my cock, princess. I’m so hard for you right now. You’re such a dirty little girl, you know that?” Another grunt. “G-getting me all hard. Fuck, I wish you were here to suck me off. I would push my cock down your slutty little throat. You like that, yeah?”

“Mhm. I love sucking cock, Daddy.”

“I’m sure you do, Princess,” he moaned.

He sounded like an angel and it made your heart and pussy flutter.

You were rubbing your clit like a madwoman, two fingers pushing in and out of your wet heat, panting and moaning Daddy over and over again.

“I have so much precum ‘cause of you. It’s almost slipping down my wrist—hah. Fuck, Cherry. Fuck. I’m close. Tell me—ngh—what positions you like, Princess.”

Your hips stuttered and your mind was flooded with images of you bent over for him, his cock curved deep in your pussy, ramming you hard into the mattress, suffocating you with his body weight as he pinched your needy, overstimulated clit.

“I-I like it from the back, Daddy.”

He grunted and you heard his breathing hitch.

“F-fuck. I like hitting it from the back, too.”

“Would you want to fuck me like that?” you breathed. You knew your phone speaker would pick up on the longing that you were putting down just for him. “Make me your needy little s-slut?”

His breathing stuttered. “Y-yes. I want to. Shit, I really want to.”

Your hips were canting and ticking nervously to the tune of his moans and you knew you were close.

“Cum for me, Cherry. Let me hear you, princess. I’m here with you.”

His words broke something deep in you and you surged forward, a cry of pure pleasure on your lips as you furiously fucked your fingers deep inside of you, reaching that mind-numbing high.

Tears blurred your vision and you were trembling from head to toe. Your sleep shirt had ridden above your breasts, your nipples hard and aching to be touched, sucked or teased. 

You rubbed your thumbs gently over the turgid buds as you heard him reach his high, your thighs squeezing to push out a smaller orgasm from your sated body.

The both of you were panting hard and you were actually taken aback that this was the first time any customer had ever made you reach this breaking point. He heard your soft huff of laughter and you swore you felt him smile when he asked, “Was it good?”

You chuckled shakily. “Y-yeah. Damn. I think I have to pay you for your time, sir.” In a softer voice, you admitted, “I-I’ve never come for someone before. Like this, I mean.”

His smooth laugh was like music to your ears. “I’m glad I could help.”

“Sir… may I know your name? I mean, not your name name, but your alias.” You rolled over to your belly, pressing your thighs together. “I want to know what name I should scream out in case you decide to bless me with your beautiful voice again.”

There was a short silence before he muttered, “You can call me Ken.”

“Ken?”

He grunted in acknowledgment and that small sound made you smile. It seemed like he was one of those taciturn men who were lacking in genial spirits. Other women would be put off by someone as aloof as that but you were charmed.

You liked serious, no-nonsense men who could fuck you straight. He seemed like someone who would fit the bill.

“I’ll transfer you the money,” he said and your brows knitted in amusement.

He truly was a straight-laced man of his word—you were in for a treat tonight. 

Your phone pinged with the sound of a money transfer and you fought back a slow grin at the imagined numbers in your bank account. He must’ve given you a hefty tip, you were sure of that. Ken seemed like the type of guy to pay well for a service.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you purred, laying down on your back and staring up at the ceiling.

There was a slight catch in his voice when he asked, “C-can I… book you?”

“Book me?”

“For tomorrow night.”

When you took some time to answer, you heard him start to explain himself.

“I-I’ll be having drinks with someone tomorrow night. A friend. A-and he’s a handful. I need to take the edge off.”

You flattened your lips together to keep from smiling too wide. “Of course. Just leave a note with Leela and she’ll arrange the schedule for you.”

He thanked you and politely wished you goodnight.

You wished him the same and told him to have good dreams before you ended the call.

You scrolled through your bank transfers only to find a five-digit amount and your jaw fell to the floor. Picking it back up, you scrambled to see if your hunch was proven right and you were quickly stunned into an awed silence.

Glad I could help - K.

a/n: mhm nanami's voice can bend me over and fuck me till i give him 6 babies—wh-what who said that ??

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

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[birdyisthewordyy]

please i beg of you pookie

daisuke x security guard!reader

like the reader is the guard on the tuplar?? (idk how else to describe it other than the cams room in among us..)

-💤

HELLO NONNY!!! this is such a creative ask and I’m so happy to write it for you :D hope u enjoy

Platonic

The first thing Daisuke noticed about you when you were all aboard the Tulpar was how focused on your job you seemed

Like basically the opposite of him

Don’t get me wrong, Daisuke was happy to be an intern, but he liked to have fun too

He wanted to get you out of your shell a little and see you open up

You didn’t seem rude by any means so he figured might as well try!

He will offer you sweetener packets or read something you may find interesting out of one of his magazines

He may tease you about the job, asking how much you get payed to just look at cameras—before you remind him he’s an intern.

You find him up late a lot when doing routine checks around the Tulpar at night and he tries to strike up conversation

“Hey, you come here often? ;D”

“Daisuke, get off the counter.”

Accompanies you on a lot of inspections after the crash because hes “bored” (he doesn’t want you to get hurt)

Overall he brightens up your day just a little, especially after the crash

Romantic

Big on PDA, even if the public is…3/4 other people

Constantly holding your hand or linking his pinky with you or hugging you from behind

Will kiss any beauty marks you have to fluster you

Swansea notices the way he tries to act tougher and more assured around you

More “I can do it without any help, watch this!” Less “Swanseaaaa, help me!”

Swansea’s grateful for that at least, the kid’s got someone else to bother

Because your work requires you to tie your hair back(if you have long hair), he likes to annoy you by randomly taking out your ponytail while you’re working

You’re just trying to watch cameras and he’s like “hehehe got ya ponytail holder”

Secretly thinks your uniform is hotter than the regular pony jumpsuits

Overall he loves you and especially loves messing with you on the job

[cottonlemonade]

The rustling of the trash bag called your boyfriend into the room at the same speed as a cat hearing a treat packet.

He watched you lift a pair of jeans from your laundry basket, inspect it for a second, and throw it into the bag with another one.

“It’s the season again, huh?”, he asked with a pitiful frown.

You pouted and nodded.

“The worst part is, the quality of clothes decreases but the price still increases!” Another pair joined the bunch.

“And, as soon as your thighs touch, no pants last longer than a few months, maaaaybe a year if you can rotate to more than one other pair. - Some of my friends still have pants from high school! - This is ridiculous, look!”

You bent down to grab the leg of the previously discarded one and stuck two fingers through a hole in the rubbed-thin fabric on the inner thigh.

“I’m telling you, babe - skirts.”

He announced it with the same hopeful glint in his eyes he had every time this issue came up.

“You know it won’t work.”, you grumbled and dropped the jeans again, checking out the next, “With a booty like mine it’s gonna be like a reverse mullet. Long in front, short in back…”

You folded that one back together as they mercifully would survive another purge.

“Well… some might argue that’s still business in the front, party in the back - ha! Too slow!”, he laughed as he caught a ball of socks flung his way. Lopping them onto your bed he offered, “Come on, babe. Let’s stay in for dinner tonight, hm? No pants needed.”

You pouted some more as you pushed the trash bag aside with your foot and waddled into his waiting arms.

Tendou, Kuroo, Komori, Oikawa, Nishinoya, Konoha, Atsumu, Bokuto, Sugawara, Semi, Yaku, Inuoka, Matsukawa, Suna, Hoshiumi, your fave