#pink iron man au

[pinkpinkmermayyy]

*munchkin voice* LOOK! IT'S IRON MAN! *pointing to the sky*

i love making these stupid pink iron man edits lmao

@lunadensmidnightprowl @under0-0s

[lokissweater]

DON’T HAVE TO GUESS

{yuta okkotsu x f!reader}

summary: yuta is the greatest boyfriend to ever grace this earth. one problem though? he refuses to touch you out of fear of making you uncomfortable or disrespecting you (no matter how bad he wants it). your pent up sexual frustration is at an all time high and you’re sick of him rejecting your advances, so you devise a plan to get him to crack.

content: MDNI. FILTHY SMUT, smut with plot, established relationship, afab!reader, pet names, references to alcohol and drinking, college party, cursing, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it y’all), dirty talk, FERAL YUTA, oral, creampie, yuta is down bad for you.

word count: 5.8k

author’s note: theming inspired by charli xcx ft. miss billie eilish’s song “guess” !! MWAH.

if you would like to know the origin story of this au, you can read it here! but it can also be read without it :)

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

yuta felt like an absolute freak.

ever since you both officially became a couple, he’s been the absolute happiest man alive and never ever goes a day without showering you with affection, kisses, and telling you how much he loves and adores you.

but behind that? yuta has a little secret.

and he is gnawing at the iron bars of his enclosure in absolute torture every time you do something, anything, that can get his little horn dog mind to imagine you in thirty five different positions on his bed crying out for him.

it doesn’t even have to be something you do that remotely resembles anything sexual, so on a day where you were sitting pretty beside him in the passenger seat of his car, the blood rushing to his dick at the sight of the seatbelt strap pushing in between your puffy boobs—

he knew it was bad.

yuta’s shamefully always thought about these things— even when you were both just on best friend status. but it’s harder now, much harder for him to behave because he doesn’t want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do. he respects you so much and always treats you like pretty porcelain glass, delicately running his hands over your body and soft face when you share a kiss or an embrace.

so now whenever he feels his heart pounding against his chest, face boiling red, and the all too familiar feeling of the lower region of his pants maybe getting a little too tight because of you, he immediately removes himself from the situation to prevent from spazzing out.

the bad thing was— this happened practically every single day and nearly every other hour, to the point where it was blatantly obvious and you were completely and utterly confused as to why.

every time you stand up on your tippy toes to give him a sugary kiss, arms wrapped around his neck and yuta’s arms around your waist, the makeout doesn’t last for more than thirty seconds before he’s pulling apart from your lips with a smack!, walking away with his head down, hands tight at his sides, and with a lame excuse for his abrupt leave.

every time you accidentally drop something and bend over to retrieve it with yuta standing directly behind you— when you come back up and turn your head to face him, he’s already staring back at you with wide eyes, lips pressed into a thin line and cheeks flushed pink. you’d ask then if he was okay, to which he would respond by a quick nod of the head and a dash out of the room to leave for a moment… again.

he did it so much to the point where he eventually avoided touching you all together, and you absolutely hated it. yuta’s always been affectionate with you, he’s never not touched you, and on a day where you swung a leg over his lap to straddle him on his bed, eager to show him a little loving and a smooch— you had just about had it when he placed his hands on your hips as you were trailing your mouth down his neck, physically pulling you off his lap and leaving the room— muttering about god knows what.

until you noticed.

you and yuta were seated on your living room couch watching a movie, the both of you dozing off gingerly as his head was resting against your shoulder, undoubtedly exhausted after a days worth of college classes and homework.

you went to place a sleepy hand on his upper thigh, about to tell him that you both should move upstairs to your room and sleep, but when your fingers accidentally grazed his crotch area, yuta shot up like a light and startled you awake— eyes blown wide and frantic.

“whatareyoudoing—”

“yu! my god—” you placed a hand over your heart, chest heaving. “i was just gonna tell you that we should go up to my room and sleep.”

yuta’s shoulders visibly dropped, and he closed his eyes momentarily before licking his lips, exhaling deeply.

“h-oh my god—“ he opened his eyes again after regulating his breathing and looked at you with worried eyes. “fuck i’m sorry baby… did i scare you?”

you gave him a little nod and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders then, kissing your cheek and the side of your head apologetically. “i’m sorry, i don’t know why i did that.”

but you did, and it was like a switch had gone off in your head, everything finally making sense.

every moment he would suddenly leave, or remove you from him when you tried anything, or every expression and reaction he made when you would wear something tight or short, all fell into place like a delicious puzzle piece.

so when he lead you to bed and cuddled you up innocently to sleep that night, you came up with a plan to test this theory.

you wanted yuta to crack.

unfortunately, your first attempt was a fail.

yuta had plans to take you out on a little summer picnic date by the beach, and when he arrived at your house and you texted him to come in and make himself at home in your room, you were absolutely giddy, fixing your dress and applying the finishing touches to your makeup in the bathroom.

you had slipped on a long, skin tight black spandex dress for the day— one that hugged every inch and crevice of your body like a vice, a mischievous look in your eyes as you ran your fingers through your styled hair before leaving, practically skipping down the hall back to your room.

the minute you came in, yuta’s eyes flew open.

“hi baby!” you greeted sweetly, walking over to where he sat at the edge of your bed and leaned down, planting a soft kiss to his blushing cheek.

score.

“h-hi.”

“do you like it?” you asked eagerly, doing a little twirl for him and mentally making sure to pop your ass out a little more in his direction. “i bought it just yesterday!”

“i.. i do, baby.” he squeaked, voice hoarse and mind in a full blown fucking panic when you took his hands in yours and ushered him to stand.

but he remained stiff as a board, arms glued to his sides and hands in tight fists as he looked at you, face strained.

you playfully rolled your eyes and took his hands, guiding them towards you. “you can touch me, silly. here— feel the spandex-”

and you purposely dropped his hands to land right on your ass with a smack.

yuta immediately inhaled sharply through his nose and choked, his face dropping straight into the crook of your neck to hide his delirious expression. yuta was biting the inside of his cheek so unbelievably hard that he tasted metal, his eyes squeezing shut as nasty thoughts flashed through his mind like a forest fire.

holy shit holy shit holy shit—

“f..feels nice,” he muttered into your neck, and you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning your lips up to his ear.

“does it?”

you felt yuta giving in and slowly squeeze the plump of your ass, and he felt like an absolute fucking monster at the way he was feeling you up when in his eyes, you were just innocently showing him your pretty little long dress.

but just when you thought you had won, your smile wide with delight, he tore away from you and excused himself from the room with a quick kiss to your cheek, leaving you dumbfounded and defeated.

on your second attempt, you refused to accept defeat and planned more diligently than before, his tiny mess up from last time motivating and proving to you that your plan could bear fruit.

this day was particularly scorching, one of the hottest days of the year as you and yuta decided to get ice cream after one of his lectures from a shop down the street, an attempt at cooling off and escaping the heat.

you were sitting on a cute bench under shade just outside the shop as you waited for your boyfriend to come back, nervous and wearing a low cut baby doll top that showed a little more boob than you originally intended, but due to the circumstance at hand… the more the merrier!

after a few minutes, the door to the shop chimed open and yuta stepped out— two vanilla ice cream cones with rainbow sprinkles delectably adorning the pair of soft serves in his hands. he carefully handed one to you and grinned.

“here baby.”

you took a cone from his offering hand gratefully and licked a little off it as he sat down.

“thank you!” you responded sweetly, and it made his heart skip a beat as you both sat there, enjoying the summer heat and each others gentle company.

without yuta noticing though, you had stopped licking your ice cream as he chatted to you about the things he had to do for the coming week, attentively listening to him as you patiently waited— the vanilla soft serve glistening under the heat and slowly melting, droplets oozing off the sides until one landed right on your tit.

score.

“oh!” you gasped, looking down and pouting, “i spilled someee.”

yuta quickly reached to the side and pulled out a napkin he had brought from the shop, extending it out towards you but faltering when you shook your head frantically.

“no! it’ll go to waste! and i can’t reach down and lick it off myself…” you huffed and looked at him with the cutest face he had ever seen you make… you smirking deviously on the inside. “can you lick it off for me, yu? please.”

you had said it so nonchalant, so casual like it was the easiest most normal thing in the world to do, but it had yuta’s body and mind freezing over as you scooted closer to him, waiting.

“h— huh?” he stammered, unable to take his eyes away from your tits, the sight of ice cream drooling down over them an image he wanted to tattoo behind his eyelids to look at forever— his cheeks bright pink.

“hurry! it’s gonna stain my top,” you whined, putting a hand on his shoulder as yuta let you tug him down, him ogling and literally gawking over your chest.

without another thought, yuta stuck his slick tongue out and slowly ran it over the top of your puffy tit just like you had asked him to, the angel on his shoulder screaming at him to stop as his tongue continued to trail up your chest and around your neck, your breath hitching in surprise.

the sound of your reaction broke him out of his trance and he flinched away from you, chest heaving and pupils blown out with the biggest pit of shame in his stomach, feeling like a fucking pervert.

but you, your shoulders evidently deflated in disappointment as you pressed your thighs together, trying to mend the buzzing ache between your legs as your mind thought over and over about what he did, something you didn’t expect at all, and something you wanted him to do again.

“let’s… let’s go for a walk, yeah?” yuta spoke quickly and gently to you, taking your hand that was on his shoulder and pulling you up off the bench, him confused as to why you had a frown on your face.

but for the third and final attempt, you were utterly and hopelessly desperate. every time you guys hung out, yuta was still the absolute sweetest and did everything he could to make you happy, yet he still just wouldn’t touch you, and it was driving you fucking crazy.

you were getting reckless at this point, your pent up sexual frustration sky rocketing with every passing day, but you were completely oblivious to the fact that yuta was dealing with the same form of torture.

except way, way worse.

it’s gotten to the point where just the sound of your sweet sugary voice over the speakers of his phone has him biting down on the edges of his pillow, arms wrapped tightly around himself and his body curled up into a pathetic ball of despair, his dick rock solid and his mind filled with thoughts that consisted of strictly just you.

so when you called him up and asked if he wanted to come with you to one of your girl friend’s parties, yuta knew he was one hundred percent fucked.

he wanted to keep respecting you. he wanted you to know how special you were to him and how serious he was about your relationship with him, and he sure as hell did not want you to feel uncomfortable because he was a horny piece of shit that didn’t know self control and wanted to have sex every five minutes.

except he was a horny piece of shit, has always been one over you, and yuta knew the second he saw you dolled up in your pretty little dress looking absolutely lethal, he was going to lose it.

and he did.

with his arms crossed over his chest and a tight hand over his mouth, he nodded and hummed out a series of “mhm’s” at everything you were saying as you finished up getting ready, his eyebrows pinched together in complete agony at the sight of you.

the pastel green glittery dress you had on was so criminally short that any inch of movement you made, the bottom of your ass cheeks would peak out from below the hem of your dress.

he slightly lowered his hand from his mouth. “baby?”

“yeah?” you responded softly and turned your body to face him, spritzing your vanilla coconut perfume over your frame.

“i-isn’t your dress— a little short?”

you put the perfume bottle down on your vanity desk and looked down, internally giddy that he noticed the length, your plan coming into fruition.

score.

“oh is it?” you tugged at the hem of your dress, scooting it back down. “does it look bad? i—”

“no no!” yuta’s hands shot out frantically as he shook his head. “you’re so so pretty baby, the most gorgeous little thing i’ve ever seen,” he took a few steps toward you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, being mindful of your perfectly styled hair that made him weak in the knees. “i just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable for the rest of the night and not enjoy yourself.”

your heart melted at his words and consideration as you smiled warmly, eyes sparkling up as you gave him a cute peck on the lips and hugged him back, “you’re so nice to me, yu.”

yuta snorted but looked down at you fondly. “that’s the bare minimum baby.”

“so.” you peeled away from him and walked over to the bed to pick up your purse, swinging the strap over your shoulder. “all i do is make you ham sandwiches after your soccer practices.”

yuta laughed loudly, “that’s all you do?”

“yup!”

he nudged your shoulder playfully with his, a grin on his face as he walked down the stairs with you and out the door to his car.

“brat.”

at the party, your plan was to be as devilish and flashy as possible, showing off every curve and angle of your body to your boyfriend in means of getting him to crack, and your ticket there was the length of your dress—

but more specifically?

what you had on underneath.

when you met up with the rest of your friend group that were all residing on the long lounge sofa in the living room like always, you grabbed yuta’s hand and led him over to join the rest of them. he politely greeted each and every one, keeping you close by the hip before you both settled down on the couch.

yuta wasn’t a big party person like you were, but he also didn’t particularly dislike them either. as long as you were there with him, he always ended up getting shit faced and having the time of his life with you and your friends, something that didn’t even happen when he went to parties with his own friends.

your closest girl friend that sat across from you at an angle turned her body, yelling over the music. “have you tried this?!”

she pointed to the red solo cup in her hand, and you shook your head.

“no! what is it?!”

“someone from the frat next door made a mix of malibu and pineapple rum! it’s really good here!-”

she reached over and offered her cup, and as soon as you stood to retrieve it, an idea popped into your head— eyes widening. without another thought, you moved over to stand right in front of yuta before fully and erotically bending and lunging over to reach for the cup.

he stopped breathing. he looked at the way your dress rode up literally half way up your ass and he stopped breathing.

it was so unbelievably high up that he saw the color of your underwear— a lacy black pair with little bows adorned over the sides like a present, slightly see through but enough to see the outline of your lower lips.

yuta clasped a tight hand over his mouth, but as soon as that happened he realized that whatever he was seeing, everybody else was seeing as well. including that stupid moron that had been staring at you since the moment you both got here.

in record time his trembling arms shot out and yuta grabbed the hem of your dress, tugging it back down over your ass as he wrapped an arm around your waist tightly, pulling you back to sit on his lap.

you loved that he did that, but as you sipped the drink and chatted on with your friends, you were entirely unaware of the way yuta’s arms were gripped around your waist like a lock, his forehead resting on your back with his face hidden.

yuta felt like an absolute fucking freak again as the image of your puffy lower lips outlining your lacy panties flicked over and over and over again in his mind without a break. he felt so nasty, so shameful and so hard as he tried with all of his will power to calm his breathing and stop the bouncing of his right knee, eyes screwed tight.

holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck—

he needed you so badly, needed to slip that skimpy dress off of you and bury his face in between your legs, needed to slip his swollen dick out and grope your tits and pump his—

shut up shut up shut up—

at the feeling of his leg bouncing rapidly, you looked back and slightly turned yourself, confused at the sight of his hung head that was refusing to detach from your body and look at you properly.

you placed a gentle hand at the top of his head, the feeling of his silky black hair underneath your fingers. “yu?—”

his head snapped up straightaway, and your eyes widened as you took in the way his chest was heaving and his pupils were blown out, face completely red and his body practically shivering beneath you.

you frowned, “baby? are you okay?”

you shifted once more to assess him better, but his eyes only shot back down to your ass as he felt your dress rise up again.

such pretty bows…

yuta smashed his face in against your side, eyes screwed shut.

calm down calm down calm down—

it was almost completely dark in the frat house, colors of red and blue and green bouncing across the walls of the lower level as people drank and made havoc, your friends all caught up in their own inebriated worlds to realize what was happening between the both of you.

and at the feeling of his hardened cock against your ass, you slowly smiled and finally understood— your hand coming up to stroke his cheek lovingly, the act simple and innocent, until you took his hand from your lap and agonizingly dragged it further up and up and up your thigh…

shit shit shit—

until you guided his shaking fingers to the patch of wet in between your parted thighs, the lace material up against the pads of his—

fuck it.

yuta pushed you off of his lap and stood, snatching your wrist tightly before tugging and dragging you away from the couch and through the mass of people on the dance floor.

“yuta!” you yelled over the music. “where are we going?”

you were so confused, and you worried that maybe you had pushed his buttons a little too far and that now he was upset, and judging by the way he didn’t even turn around or respond when you spoke to him, it looked like that might be the case.

you gnawed at your bottom lip in concern as he led you both up the stairs of the house— you focused on trying to keep your dress from riding completely up and him opening and closing several different doors before he found what he was looking for.

yuta dragged you in the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him, his lips instantly latching onto your cheek, desperate wet open mouthed kisses dropping down to your neck and down to your chest as you gasped.

“m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry—” he repeated like a chant, voice muffled by the way he was sucking on your neck like a little leech, his fingers looping themselves in the straps of your dress before pulling down and revealing your bare tits to him.

you were wholeheartedly gobsmacked at what he was doing and you were loving every single second of it, the way his wild eyes darted over your tits and his wet lips just about drooling over them.

“i’m gonna suck your tits,” his gaze shot back up to you, chest rising and falling. “okay baby?”

a fierce blush spread over your cheeks at his words, mentally cursing yourself for wanting this so bad but feeling bashful at the wrong freaking time.

you barely even nodded before he picked you up by the waist and set you down on the counter of the sink, his wet tongue darting across the plush of your breasts and pressing flat against your nipple, your breath hitching at the feeling.

yuta sucked and nipped feverishly at your nipples, getting them slick and slippery with his spit as he squeezed at your waist desperately, your pretty moans ringing through his ears making his bulge tighten and strain against the buckle of his belt.

he trailed his tongue back up to your neck and groped the fat of your ass with his hands, subconsciously rutting into your covered lips as he whined and groaned over the warmth of your pussy.

“i— i’m gonna cum in my pants if we keep going.” he puffed out, tone constricted as he looked at you with feral half lidded eyes.

you nodded quickly. “but i want you to, yu. inside me.”

yuta’s eyes blew wide open as he shook his head, and you felt the way his hands trembled while he gripped your hips.

“we— we can’t baby,” panting, he unwillingly pulled his bulge slightly apart from your warmth and looked at you sincerely. “i can’t do that to you—“

“do what?” you asked softly, tilting your head to the side. “make love to me?”

“no— well, yes?” he dropped his forehead to rest on your shoulder and placed his hands at the edge of the counter to support his weight, groaning.

“i don’t want you to think i’m taking advantage of you or— or not respecting you and i want you to know how serious i’m taking this relationship and—”

you cupped his cheeks and made him look at you, your voice sweet and soft. “who said that? i don’t think that at all yu, and i know you’re serious about us.. i wouldn’t be sitting on this counter with my tits out if you weren’t.”

yuta laughed as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“you don’t wanna fuck me?” you whispered lewdly.

“trust me i do—”

“you don’t wanna see what kind of panties i have on under?” you pressed an open mouthed kiss to his neck. “you don’t want to maybe guess the color of my underwear?”

“oh i don’t have to guess baby,” he shook his head and grinned. “i know.”

yuta buried his face in your hair and inhaled, “has this been your plan all along pretty? to be a little slut for me and show off what you got going on down there?” he snapped his bulge back on your pussy so roughly that you jolted up by the sheer force. “to get me to fuck you? hm?”

you didn’t respond, you couldn’t respond by the way he was running and groping his hands deliciously all over your body as he spoke nasty to you. all you could do was moan stupidly.

“lucky for you, i’m just as guilty.”

he pulled your straps back over your shoulders then while sliding you off the counter, tugging the hem of your dress down over your ass before opening the door and leading you by the hand outside.

yuta ran through the halls opening and closing doors again, the both of you laughing when you would find other people fucking or making out, until he finally found an open vacant room with a bed and slammed the door closed, locking it.

his lips smashed against yours without another moment wasted, you unzipping and pulling your dress up and over yourself as he yanked his shirt off and threw it fuck knows where.

pushing you down gently on the bed, yuta took a step back to admire your perfect perfect body, the way your tits bounced with every movement you made, and the way that god forsaken lacy black underwear made you look as he just stood there and stared.

you cowered a little under his gaze, legs closing and arms crossing over your chest. “what?”

he shook his head. “i love you… so much.”

you smiled bright then, pearly whites on display as you watched him reach down and fumble with his belt frantically, sliding it off and pushing his pants down before kicking them away and hovering over you until you were both entirely bare.

yuta pressed honeyed wet kisses all the way down your body and in between your legs, shoving his face to your clothed pussy and inhaling your sweet scent, moaning as he did so.

he was so freakishly hard as he licked a long stripe up, the fabric rough and wet under his tongue as you squirmed and whined, impatient and bratty.

“you taste so sweet, baby.” he groaned, pulling your panties to the side and spitting on your clit, his index finger running delicately and slowly over your meaty slimy folds.

“fuck—” you panted, carding your fingers through his hair. “more please—”

“more?” he hummed, watching at the way you shook and shivered with his every touch as he slobbered all over your pussy like a man starved.

it was so filthy, squelching and sloshes of his mean mouth bullying your clit as your fingers flew to grip the sheets beneath you.

“eek!” you squealed, your thighs closing tight around his head as he ate, his hands coming up to force them apart.

“let me eat.”

yuta gripped the fat of your plushy thighs as his sloppy tongue moved across your lips and pussy, coaxing your syrupy cunt to pulse and jump with each lick, a knot forming at the pit of your tummy.

“i— yu, i can’t—” you tried to run away from his mouth. “i’m gonna cum—”

but he only grabbed your hips and brought you back down roughly, his rolling tongue lapping up your juices before your entire body shook with erotic ecstasy, your thighs clamping shut as you squealed and creamed on his tongue.

“fuuuucckkk,” he dragged out, coming back up and sliding your absolutely drenched and ruined panties down your shaking legs, his mouth coated and shiny and covered in you.

yuta pumped his cock a few times, and that’s when you noticed just how big he was, packing a meaty punch that had your mouth watering and desperate.

you spread your legs again as he climbed over you, sliding his dick in between your messy sticky folds before lining his fat tip against your hole.

god, yuta’s body and dick were on fucking fire, his tip slowly nudging and slightly stretching you, a pathetic whine leaving his lips at the feeling of your perfect pussy that was entirely his to fuck, a dream he’s had and yearned over for what feels like an eternity.

“m’gonna put it in,” he choked, licking his lips as he tightly gripped your waist.

you eagerly nodded, spreading your legs even wider. “please, i want you to fill me up, yu.”

and with that, yuta slowly and deliciously stretched your little cunt open, his swollen dick pushing past your tight squeezing gummy walls until he bottomed out.

“f—fuck,” he swallowed thickly. “you gotta loosen up baby you’re milking me—”

your hands gripped at his arms for support as yuta gently pumped his cock, your pussy sucking him up like a yummy lollipop and trapping him inside. “i can’t yu…” you shook your head. “you’re too big—”

his glassy eyes darkened over at your words, and he picked up a brutal pace almost instantly.

“is this— hah— what you wanted?” he reached out and pinched your rosy cheek meanly, pounding into your puffy walls as you cried dumbly. “to fuck you dumb on my dick after teasing me like that downstairs? huh?”

your eyes squeezed shut, loud pornographic moans tumbling out of your throat as he fucked you like he hated you, your tits bouncing with every hit.

a series of pat pat pat’s bounced all over the walls as yuta buried his face into your neck, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he shoved his dick inside of you over and over and over again.

“i can— hah— barely move you’re sucking me, baby.” yuta hiccuped, his eyes welling with feral tears.

it felt good, way too good and he could hardly handle it, his heart racing against his chest as he watched you make slutty faces that only fueled his erotic agony.

he fucked you full into the mattress, setting an animalistic pace as the headboard hit against the wall repeatedly.

“s—slow down, yu!” you whined, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the way his tip hit your cervix without mercy, you on the verge of cumming and creaming all over his dick.

“no—” he shook his head and looked at you, your sweaty hot bodies sticking together. “m’sorry pretty i c—can’t—”

yuta hiccuped and whined and cried at the way your greedy pussy was milking him for all of his worth, his abs tensing at the familiar feeling of his release. the amount of times yuta fisted his cock to the thought of you like a pervert, just like this, spread out and pretty, didn’t even come close or compare to the real thing laying in front of him right now.

“m’gonna pull out, okay?” he muttered. “gonna cum—“

“nuh uh!” you whined, wrapping your thighs tightly around his waist to keep him inside, your arms clutching his brooding shoulders. “i want you to dump it inside of me.”

“i— inside?!” he swallowed.

you nodded and smiled sweetly at him through your fucked out expression and puffy pouty lips, a sight he never ever wanted to forget in his life and keep the privilege of looking at every day, just for him.

yuta groaned again and shoved his face back into your neck, squishing your tits in his hands and holding on to them for dear life as you milked his cock, slamming his hips up to meet yours and you whimpering at how deliciously rough he was.

“mm— fuck!” you squealed as you felt yuta’s hot ropey cum shoot up your walls, bucket loads of it filling you to the brim as you felt your own orgasm wash over you, his hand pressing down against your lower tummy as he hiccuped against your neck.

you both grabbed on to each other as you tried to come down from your highs, your skin sticky and hot as his steamy breath fanned over your ear shakily, the booming of music downstairs shaking the walls a little and the sounds of footsteps walking down the halls filling your ears.

yuta gently peeled himself from you and slowly, delicately— pulled his dick out, his pupils dilating at the sight of his milky cum oozing out of you sluggishly.

his dizzy eyes flickered over to your dazed and tired face, smiling softly. “are you okay baby?”

you closed your eyes as he leaned down and brushed some of your hair away from your eyes, laughing a little. “yeah.”

“wait here—” he whispered before getting off the bed and walking over to what he assumed was the bathroom, retrieving a random towel.

coming back over, he tenderly spread your legs and cleaned you up, rubbing soothing circles into your ankles with his thumbs as he did so before plopping back down on the bed next to you, pulling you softly into his arms.

that was the first time you both had sex together, and as the fact registered into your head, you buried your face into his bare chest shyly.

“hm?” yuta looked down at you. “what, baby?”

“you’ve seen me naked now,” you muttered, voice faintly muffled.

he giggled lowly. “you’ve seen me naked now too.”

“your dick is big,” you leaned back a bit. “i can’t believe you’ve been keeping that thing hostage from me.”

yuta choked at your blunt statement and shook his head. “i’ve always wanted this baby, believe me.” he kissed your forehead and nuzzled his face into your neck. “i just didn’t want to disrespect you pretty so i just didn’t know if you wanted it like i did.”

“but i do—”

he laughed again, “i know you do, now i do.”

you smiled sheepishly as yuta caressed your back with his fingertips lovingly, feeling like he was at the gates of heaven with you in his arms after having shared something so intimate like that for the first time, something he only lived in his sleepy dreams prior to this moment.

“i love you, yu.” you mumbled against his chest, and his heart absolutely melted as he captured your lips in a sweet sweet kiss.

oh how he loved you, and the sight of your gorgeous naked body next to him, your breathtaking unreal face looking at him and only him with those eyes—

was something he wouldn’t trade for the world.

taglist <3: @turtlesaee @heretoreadfics

[bloodibambiidoll]

⟡˖ ࣪ A Dripping Inconvenience ⟡˖

✬ Kinktober Day 3 ⟢ Eric Draven ⟢ Squirting/Overstim ✬

Warnings: Brother’s bestfriend troupe, size difference, fingering, pussy eating, pet names, choking, overstimulation, squirting, cock piercings, hickies, possessiveness, AU(no Shelly/crow), biting, a tiny bit of blood, reader has nipple piercings 18+MDNI

You spent most of the day cleaning your brother’s dirty ass apartment while he was out of town so you had absolutely no reservations about helping yourself to a fat plate of nachos from his kitchen and a blunt, or two, from his stash. You were one blunt, half a plate of nachos, and two episodes into your show when abrupt banging on the door ripped you from your chill evening. You practically jump out of your skin at the amount of force behind the knocks, the weed in your system making you slightly paranoid until you hear the voice behind the door.

“Chance, come on, man!! I really need your fucking help!” You’d recognize your brother’s best friend’s voice anywhere. Considering you were just a little bit obsessed with him. And he sounds extremely stressed. Another round of knocks pulls you from your thoughts and has you shooting to your feet so you can walk the short distance between the couch and the door. You hastily unlock and open it to reveal a disheveled looking Eric Draven. His black mullet is even messier than usual and dripping wet from the storm raging outside. Which makes the fact that all he’s wearing is a distressed black tee and even more distressed black jeans borderline insane as the cloth covering his body drips onto the carpet in the hallway. He’s panting heavily and the look in his eyes is the one of someone running from something. Fear and urgency. “Oh, fuck. What’re you doing here? Where’s your brother?”

You’re not taken back by his brash tone, Eric had always been short and avoidant with you. You’re his best friend’s annoying little, kid sister that used to beg to play with them and that’s all you’ll ever be to him. Fucking unfortunately. But the way he towers over you makes you suddenly acutely aware of the fact that all you’re wearing is a tiny, white, Hello Kitty tank top, even tinier pink panties that hardly cover your hips or ass, and your black platform Uggs with white ruffle socks. You took a shower after you finished cleaning and despite the amount of time you spent vacuuming, your brother's floors were perpetually disgusting so you refused to walk around in his house without some kind of shoes.

“He’s out of town, I’m house sitting and watching the dogs.” You scoff and roll your eyes before tipping your head over your shoulder to gesture inside toward your brother’s two dogs standing guard behind you. If they hadn’t known Eric their whole lives they’d probably be barking their heads off right now. “What are you doing here? Are you good?”

“Not fucking really, no.” Eric sighs and throws his head back while running his tattooed hands down his face. He drops them to his side before locking eyes with you and you have to physically stop yourself from clenching your thighs from the way he is glowering down at you. When you were kids he was shorter than most of the other boys and now his body fills the entire length of the doorway he’s standing in. He was just so big. “I just really needed to talk to your brother, alright? And it’s just really inconvenient that you’re here right now.”

“Seriously? What is your fucking problem with me, Eric? We aren’t little kids anymore. It’s just immature at this point.” You stomp your foot for emphasis and glare up at him with your lips set into an ironic pout considering you just called him immature.

“My problem?” Eric crowds your space even further and you can nearly feel the dampness of his clothes against your body from his proximity. He leans down until his face is mere inches from yours, his green eyes ablaze as he breathes out deep through his nostrils. “Is that I’m in some deep shit. I have some fucked people after me. You being here, near me, puts you in harm's way and that isn’t going to work for me.”

“That isn’t going to work for you? You’re joking, right? You don’t give a fuck about me.” You laugh dryly and shake your head at the irony of this entire situation.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Eric closes the remaining distance between you, pressing his wet body against your barely covered skin. “I give too many fucks about you and now you’re here, looking up at me in that annoyed way you always do.” He chuckles and one of his large hands reaches up to cup the side of your face. “You think it hides how badly you want me, but it doesn’t.”

“W- What?” You gasp at the feeling of his skin on yours. He’s been close to you before, but never like this. “I don’t -“

“Shh. Let’s not waste time denying it. The fact that you want me is as clear as the sky being blue.” Eric’s thumb reaches out to trace along your bottom limp and you have to hold in a whimper. “It's only ever made it harder for me to be a good friend to your brother and stay away from you. I think my final restraint might be slipping. Fucking look at you.”

“You should… come in?” Your voice comes out a squeaky whisper and it makes you want to crawl in a hole and die. A slow smile spreads across Eric’s face, he places his hands on your hips and starts to back step you into the apartment before kicking the door shut behind him. The minute it’s shut his lips are on yours in a kiss that makes your entire body ignite with fire. His grip on your hips tightens as he pulls your much smaller frame taunt against his own. His tongue explores your mouth and you moan into him while you start to subconsciously grind down on his thigh. Eric kisses you for what feels like an eternity before grabbing onto your hair at the nape of your neck and using it to pull your head back.

“I won’t be gentle. I’m really stressed the fuck out right now and I don’t have it in me to take my time with you.” Eric’s free hand grips onto your ass so tight his finger nails dig into your flesh as he continues to yank your hair. The stinging pains make you moan and grind down on him harder. “Oh? Is that how you like it, brat?” The condescending nickname he called you growing up held an entirely different meaning as it fell from his lips now. It makes your pussy clench around nothing as the wetness in your underwear grows. “Answer me.”

“Yes, fuck. I like it rough.” At that Eric circles an arm around your waist and throws you over his shoulder. He carries you over to the couch and tosses you down on it onto your back. He stands over you with an almost carnivorous look in his eyes as he takes you in. You’re so fucking perfect that he can’t stand it. Your brother told him around the time you all hit puberty to stay the absolute fuck away from you but looking down at you in your tiny pink thong and tight little hello kitty tank top has him practically forgetting who your brother even is. Especially when you throw one of your legs over the back of the couch, revealing the large wet spot between them. “Take your stress out on me, I can take it.”

“Oh, I don’t think you know what you’re asking for princess, but your wish is my command.” Eric licks his lips before leaning down between your legs to kiss you like a man starved. His mouth tastes like cigarettes and rain and something almost sweet that must be naturally Eric. It’s everything you ever dreamed of as his big hands travel all over your body. He yanks your hair, grips onto your throat, runs his hands down your chest and grabs your tits and squeezes your nipples while he ruts his hard Jean covered cock against you. He bites down on your lip so hard you feel when the skin breaks and you can taste the crimson drip into both your mouths. Eric licks across your lips and down your chin to your pulse point where he sucks over and over again until your neck is covered in pretty purple and red bruises that will soon turn green and blue.

“You’re fucking, mine. Your blood is mine, your body is mine.” Eric kisses down your chest and pushes your shirt up to reveal your pretty pierced tits that make him groan at the sight. He tells you how pretty they are as he licks and sucks across them, marking them up just like your neck. He continues down your body until he gets to the band of your panties and he licks across it before kissing down your mound and running the flat of his tongue along your lace covered slit. “This pussy is fucking mine. Say it.”

“Fuck, my pussy is yours, Eric. I’ve always been yours.” He practically growls at that before pushing your panties to the side and smacking his hand down on your sopping cunt. “Shit!”

“Your pussy is so fucking pretty.” He lands a second smack on your clit before pressing the heel of his palm down on it and toying at your entrance with two of his thick fingers. “You look so tight though, we’re going to have to stretch you out, if you’re going to be able to take me.”

“I think I can take it - oh fuck!” Eric plunges his fingers knuckle deep inside you and your wet walls suck him in. Your back arches off the couch but his knee comes up to pin your thigh so you can’t move. His free hand reaches for his belt and undoes his pants enough to pull his cock free, the sight of it makes your jaw drop. It’s fucking huge. Thick, long and slightly curved, the head is perfect and dripping with precum, and best of all? The entire fucking length of his shaft is pierced. Maybe you do need him to stretch you out after all.

“Yeah, not so cocky now, huh?” Eric chuckles as he curls his fingers inside you and continues to grind his palm against your aching clit. He caresses your g-spot and rubs the tips of fingers along your walls before thrusting them in and out of you brutally quick. Your pussy is so wet it squelches and your juices start to drip down your thighs. Eric leans down and takes your clit in his mouth and it has your eyes rolling back. Your entire body stiffens as pleasure overtakes you. He keeps sucking your clit hard until your orgasm finally wavers but he doesn’t stop. The flat of his tongue licks your bud firmly as he twists his wrist and scissors his fingers inside you causing you to come again immediately.

He finally pulls his mouth off of you and you feel like you can breathe for a moment. That is until you look down at him. His hair is a disaster from you yanking on it and the entire bottom half of his face is covered in your creamy juices. Eric leans in to kiss you, giving you a taste of yourself. “You’re such a good girl for me. Give me another one.” He doesn’t pull his fingers from you and fuck you like you’d hoped he would but he resumes thrusting them in and out of you at a brutal pace and your pussy juices drip down his wrist and onto the couch.

“Oh my fucking god! I don’t think I can - fuck I just - I need a minute-“ Your sentence is cut short when Eric’s hand flies out to grip onto your throat.

“Oh, baby, no. You’re going to come for me as many times as I say and then I’ll finally give you my cock and you’ll come on that too.” Eric chuckles as squeezes your throat as he fucks you with his long fingers. His thumb reaches out to caress your clit and euphoria washes over you again. “Yeah, that’s it, you’re so good for me, Angel.”

“I - it’s so good, too good, I don’t think I can come again - oh fuck!” Eric’s grip leaves your throat and grips under your ass to tilt your hips up off the couch making his fingers hit deeper inside you.

“Shhh, just come for me.” He spreads them and twists his wrist before going back to the quick drive of his digits inside you. He spits on your clit before pressing hard on it with his thumb and your walls pulse around him as cum floods from your pussy. You squirt around his fingers and he doesn’t stop his assault on your pussy until you squirt two more times for him. Your chest is heaving and your entire body is shaking by the time he finally pulls his fingers from inside you and uses your juices to lube up his fat cock. “You were such a good girl for me, now lay back and take my cock like the good little fuck doll I always wanted.”

Tagging some fellow Eric lovers: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @myherometalhead @that-sarcastic-writer @ghoul-friendz @taintandviolent 🖤

[yandere-wishes]

Okay I have another idea for the Batwoman!fam au

Imagine if Damian’s darling wasn’t good at training at the League of Assassins, sure she is the child of two assassins who were hand picked to make her, but she is also being trained to me a wife and mother, and those two roles don’t always line up. She just can’t make herself kill, no matter how hard she tries. She is a perfect fit for being a vigilante because she can fight and extremely well at that, she just can’t kill.

Or another idea, because Cass was made to be the perfect weapon and, there is the idea of her parents being skilled assassins, so like what if Cass and Damian’s darling were sisters, half sisters maybe or full blooded, but just they never knew it because they were raised away from each other and they had no idea because there was no reason to know because they were born for very different purposes.

-lots of love❤️🪽

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅ Darling, I love how your brain works. It's true Damian's darling would be a perfect vigilante. Strong but kind. I think maybe that's what draws her to Kate in the first place seeing someone so strong, so skilled yet still riddled with compassion. For the first time in forever she doesn't feel weak or misplaced, she's finally found another like her…

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅ As for her and Cass being sisters, that would be a cool dynamic!! Lord knows I have the BIGGEST crush on David Cain (I want to be sandwiched between him and Deathstroke so BADLY) so having him be the reader's bio dad would certainly be interesting. I mean reader wouldn't know it, she never needed to know it. Her whole world was supposed to be Damian, he was the only relevant thing in her life Talia made sure of that. I guess that could add to the reasons Kate was so eager to take her away. She wanted the poor girl to at least experience having a semi-normal family. I seriously wish there was more media for David Cane, it would make it easier to incorporate him into the story lol.

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅ Anyway have my rambles on "No Killing" (Corvid) reader and the tortures she gets put through thanks to Damian~❤️❤️

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅ Song: Crimson and Cloverby Joan Jett

There's a contradiction festering within you. You try to gulp it down, to drown its bitter taste with rich irons and salts. But the dreaded thing won't die, it screams and wails into the night. The iron rots between your teeth, pricking needles into your tongue.

Satisfy or defy. You don't know which is which any longer.

Damian holds your hand as you lurk through the foreign palace, his fingers are curled tightly against yours squeezing at random intervals as he twirls his sword. "I've beheaded their king, rotten old man didn't even put up a fight." you offer him a sweet smile, as silent congratulation. Not that he needs it, no, Damian Al'Ghul doesn't need to be reminded of his worth, his merit. Instead, you do, you need to follow the rules laid out, down to the miserable T. If you don't, well, you wouldn't know what else to do.

There's a soldier writhing on the cobblestone floor, he spits when he sees the two of you when the emerald green of the uniform registers for an omen of death. Damian scowls "You dare disrespect the demon's heir?" he's about to slice the man's neck when he stops. The sunrise reflects terribly off the silver of his sword.

"I apologize," he says turning stiffly towards you, there's specks of pink blooming across his cheeks. As he shifts from one foot to the other. "You may have this kill, my lady."

The way he calls you his, makes your blood run cold. It's like being reminded to breathe, being reminded of rigid realities.

"I-I don't really feel-" he cuts you off by dragging you closer. Pushing you down until you're kneeling above the man. Damian slips his hunting knife into your palm and laces his fingers with yours once more. The oriented blade comes down bursting the jugular vein wide open. The soldier's blood spills onto your face painting you in that unholy crimson shade.

You feel the bile rising, the acid burning as you try to hold it in. Damian gingerly laps at the blood on your cheek. His warm tongue feels like the embers of hell melting through your flesh. He pulls you onto his lap, giggling sardonically as he kisses the gore clean, teeth pecking at your neck and collarbones. Wringing the skin in definite signs of himself. You stay frozen, suffocating, you don't bother guiding his hands or whispering love stories into his ears. You don't do as you were taught. Instead, you stand still. Waiting for the world to pass.

The sun oozes from the horizon. It looks like a blood fountain. You feel sick again.

That night you claw at your throat until the blood sweeps out. The tears don't stop, they flow down your pretty face until your eyes are as red as the soldier's crimson blood across the blade. Your nails pick at the lovebites, at Damian's essence across your skin. You wish you could peel them off like stickers. You wish you could be clean again.

You pray Damian dosen't notice your eyes when he sneaks into your room. But he never does, instead he nuzzles into your neck lulled off to peaceful sleep. Never once haunted by the lives he's taken.

You try to close your eyes. To sleep away the dread. But his body reeks of the insufferable substance, crismon and iron. Your most hated endeavor. You push your face into the pillows, trying to ward off the scent.

By morning the smell will cover you too. That perfect murderous perfume. Shouldn't you love it though? Shouldn't it remind you of your husband-to-be?

Master Talia says your father was one of the greatest assassins the league has ever fostered. His skills rival Batman and Deathstroke. You don't like how the information coils across your brain, slithering into the neurons filling you with anguish. How your veins pulse with the blood of a killer.

'You did this to me' you want to scream when your master's back is turned. 'You broke me!' Your master may be the only parent you've ever known, but you still can't stifle the blame. She had you birthed to be a contradiction. A mother and a killer. She had her finest birth an anomaly just so she could ensure her son a lover. You hate her for it…

And yet whenever she hugs Damian you are reminded that she loves you too. That she raised you to be her place holder once her time has come. She is in everyway your mother and in every way your tormentor.

You can never be her. You can never stomach the blood.

The problem with Gotham, your master says, is that it always finds a way to send its filth to the league.

You watch tentatively as she lands a kick across the intruder's back. Watch as she stabs her blade between the woman's ribs and claws at her eyes with her nails.

Damian stands beside you blade drawn. He's ready to engage upon command. Ready to protect. But Talia never calls her son, there is a personal vendentate in the way she mauls the woman.

The woman never once draws her blade. The batwoman with the blood-red hair doesn't kill. Her stance, her punches, her kicks. They hold no mortality. They are used in defense, offense, to hurt and protect…

But they are not made to kill. She is not made to kill.

She is just like you.

There is a bat who flies into your window on nights when the Demon's hire is not lurking inside your chambers. She tells you tales of a land shrouded in darkness, where a single king quarrels vigorously against the evil permeating his kingdom. She speaks of him with such respect, with a stiff adoration like resisting patronymic psalms. She tells you how brave you are for sparing blood. She says you are like her, like him, in every way. Singing lullabies of a world where blood isn't shed. Where justice reigns supreme.

She makes your chest swell with hope.

"I had a nightmare" you confess. The lady in red…and black -Kate as she insists you call her- only kneels down, her bloody smile pleasant, calming.

"What kind of nightmare?" she asks with a tone you can't quite place. "I was drowning" There was a pause, four heartbeats, yours and hers before you continued. "The water was red, I could feel them pulling me down." She looks at you with slight terror ringing across her eyes.

She cradles your cheek in her hand before pulling you close. It's not the bone-crushing hugs Damian gives you. The possessive vice of a dragon who knows you belong to him. It's not the rare ceremonial pat on the back that Master Talia offers from time to time. No, it feels warm and worried. Tight and soft and all so sweet. There is no warning no definitive. It is simply meant to comfort.

It feels like love. At least you hope it does.

Damian pulls you into an empty room after your training. His lips are on yours biting the chapped skin, licking your teeth, and pushing his tongue inside. "I missed you" he mumbles sternly as he cradles your body closer.

He's been gone all week. Accompanying his Grandfather on a mission in the east. You don't ask for details, because you know that he will tell you. He will spare no macabre piece as he tells you how he snuffed the life of those Master Ra's has deemed sinners.

You can still smell the blood on him as he rakes his fingers through your hair. Kissing down your shoulder and arm. Sucking and biting the pulse point on your wrist. "I love you" he admits through a sigh. Like a gulp of air after being submerged for far too long.

"I love you too…" you lie.

"You could come back with me" she offers one night sheepishly biting her lip and looking out at the crescent moon. "Back to Gotham I mean, you'd be safe there, happier too I think." You pause for a moment, staring at her, she doesn't smell of bloodshed or duty. Only lavender and responsibility.

Kate Kane, you roll her name around in your mouth, letting the letters morph and crack until they almost spell "Mother".

You nod.

In Gotham, you thought you were free. Free from that atrocious scent of blood. Free from the man you didn't love. But now the demon's heir has come to Gotham.

Damian's hands wrap around your neck, it reminds you of the times you used to hold hands. His voice is distorted all anger and accusations.

He no longer omits that gruesome aroma. But you know better, you know who's holding his leash. You know he'll snap the moment his father looks away.

He's violence born, and violence raised. That will never change.

You're in an alleyway having been confronting a thief mere moments ago. Routine patrol, until he had showed up. Emerged from the shadows just like in your nightmares. You'd thought he'd tackle the thief, play Prince Charming, and try to "protect" you. But instead, he'd targeted you. Thrown you to the ground and screamed as he laid punches across your body.

"Why did you leave me?"

It sounds so innocent, so juvenile A little boy with a broken heart. But your bones start to bruise under his fists. And you know this is no little boy, no, this is a monster.

Damian gets up quietly, he stalks closer and closer to the terrified man. You hear the haunting sound of a sword being unsheathe, close your eyes and wait for the misreable sound of blade against flesh. But it never comes, instead there's a painful tug on your hair, pulling you up.

Damian wraps your hand around his sword, fingers entwined his breath hot on your neck. "Please don't" You beg between sobs. "I have to" he mutters as he brings your hands down slicing the man from his shoulder to his hip. The body falls and so do you.

Damina kneels next to you, wrapping his arm around your body and tucking your head beneath his chin. There are blood drops on your face, the odor invading your senses, suffocating you until your breath hitches far too tightly.

"Kill me, please just kill me and end this." you plead looking up into his sparkling emerald eyes.

"Darling I can't. I wouldn't. You were born to be mine, it's your legacy, your destiny. You are mine, no matter how far you run, no matter who you masquerade as. You are mine and you always will be."

You bury your face into his chest, crying harder and harder, silently you plead for your mother to find you to save you. You don't want to belong to the demon again…

I have an interesting twist I'd like to implement into the story for who her mother could be…. But we'll talk about that some other time.

[fae-renjun]

🗯✮₊˚⊹ THE ANATOMY OF A ROMANCE — l.jn [ TEASER ]

# pairing.ᐟ lee jeno x fem!reader — [1.1k], college!au, academic rivals to friends to lovers, teaser for the first instalment of how to fall in love (for dummies)

# synopsis.ᐟ  when yn finally got tickets for comic con this year, the last thing she expected was to accidentally coordinate outfits with lee jeno: the boy she had been tied with for the top of every class they had taken together since first year. or in which jeno begins to realise the girl he could never beat in academics has more in common with him than he thought. warnings.ᐟ just swearing for the teaser

# tia speaks.ᐟ est. final wc: 4.5k & est. publish date: 20/03 (the writing in this teaser might be a bit chopped, this is not the final edit)

i. you can’t turn the radio down (& you can’t think of anyone else)

Jeno’s first mistake had been trusting his friends with his hair. 

Looking up nervously as Mark handed him the mirror, Jeno was already braced for disaster after observing the reactions of Jisung (visibly distressed in the corner while biting back a smile) and Chenle (not holding back at all, literally rolling on the floor laughing). 

“This is not fucking green.” “It’s bluish-green?” said Mark hesitantly in response. “It’s mint, Mark,” said Renjun from his spot on the couch. “It could still work,” said Jisung, more as a question than a statement. “Yeah,” Jaemin answered, barely holding back a laugh, “Beast Boy can be minty.”

From the corner of his eye Jeno saw Haechan slowly pull his phone out of his pocket, which was then swiftly returned to its place with Jeno’s warning of putting him in a chokehold.

“I cannot go to comic-con like this.” “Sure you can,” Chenle responded between laughs. “Listen man,” said Renjun, “even if you wanted to fix it, there’s not enough time to do that. Just put on the outfit.” Jeno begrudgingly dragged his feet across the floor to his room, as the conversation continued muffled outside.

Mark shouted, “Yo but why do I actually look so good as spiderman?!” “My Iron Man is better,” retorted Chenle “Why’d you guys assign me the Hulk anyway?” asked Jaemin, as Jeno walked out of his room. Jisung said “Your muscles,” at the same time as Haechan who instead responded with, “So that you and Jeno can have matching green couple outfits.” Renjun, busy adjusting the bow for his Green Arrow costume, just let out a snort-laugh as Jaemin considered both responses for a second before nodding, “Valid.”

Soon Jeno and Renjun were ushering the 5 others out of the house and into the cars to make sure they wouldn’t be late for The Batman 2’s trailer screening.

Y/N opened up the camera app and held her phone close to her face as she made sure the small red plastic crystal she’d bought from the craft store and stuck onto her forehead with lash glue wasn’t crooked. Aeri stood adjacent, combing through her freshly-dyed pink hair with her fingers. 

As a notification popped up on her screen Y/N let out a groan, “Dr. Kwon just assigned us 30 pages of reading for my 8am on Monday!”

“Those Monday morning lecturers love being diabolical, I’m telling you,” said Aeri with a sigh.

In the process of throwing her head back in frustration, Y/N noticed a mint-coloured blob exiting a car out of the corner of her eye. As she turned to get a better look she said to Aeri, “He might have been going for Beast Boy but the poor guy’s hair did not-” Y/N fell silent on seeing the face behind the mint hair. Then she started laughing.

No, said Jeno to himself, this could not be a laugh he recognised, this could not be-

“Holy fucking shit.” “Please,” said Jeno as he made eye contact with the girl, “spare me.” “Absolutely not. That is not green.” “Blame Mark.”

“No, I will actually be thanking Mark. This is incredibly diabolical work,” responded Y/N as she held her phone back up to take a photo. “Oh my god, delete that,” said Jeno with a look of horror. Y/N shook her head, “Don't worry, I won’t post it. Just need it to laugh at.” she said as Jeno’s friends joined in on laughing at the boy’s embarrassment. “I did not consent to that photo Y/N, but I guess you just like looking at my face that much.” “Yeah, I like laughing at it.” “Whatever you say. Nice to know you’re obsessed with my face. What a shame it’s not reciprocated,” said the boy with an obviously mocking look of sympathy.

Before she could retort, Haechan cut through the banter, “Sorry to point out the obvious but has no one else noticed the costumes? You’re Beast Boy, and she’s Raven. They’re lovers in all the comics and shit, no?” Jeno’s mouth fell agape as Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. Both of you rushed to defend yourselves, “Lovers is a stretch-” “ Ok but she’s been with other people in the comics, even Starfire, I mean really Aeri is-” The duo's voices were drowned out by their friends falling into a fit of giggles once again.

Y/N lightly slapped Aeri’s arm to get her attention, dragging her inside the convention center and away from the boys, as the pink-haired-girl continued holding in her giggles.

After the two girls had browsed some of the merchandise at the convention, they finally got to The Batman 2’s panel. Y/N just happened to be so lucky that the only free seats (other than those at the opposite end of the hall) were right next to a group of 7 boys, one of whom’s hair stood out like a sore thumb. It was now her turn to groan as Aeri dragged her right into those very unfortunate seats. 

With a whole 15 minutes left until the panel started all Y/N could do to occupy herself was talking to Aeri and staring at the ground and tapping her feet in order to ignore the presence of a certain Lee next to her. As the girls’ conversation reached a lull, Jeno on her other side cleared his throat before asking, “So…do you like comics?”

Y/N nodded, “Yeah…a lot.”

“Well then this is great!” exclaimed Jaemin, “Nono here is the resident comic book nerd in our friend group.”

Y/N’s face broke into a teasing smile, “Nono?”

Jeno closed his eyes in frustration then turned to Jaemin and gave him his best ��threatening’ glare (but all his friend did was smile back).

“Favourite characters?” asked Y/N, once he had turned back around.

“Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Miles Morales, Cassandra Cain, John Constantine,” he gestured at his own outfit, “and Beast Boy. Yours?”

“Jason Todd, Kamala Khan, Gwenpool, Zatanna, Rogue, Kori and Raven.” Y/N responded, pointing to her own outfit as she finished.

There was a beat of silence, “Good list.”

“Yours too.”

The two nodded, each clearly having gained some additional level of respect for the other as the lights in the hall dimmed and the event began.

While pulling her hair out of the back of the brown jacket she had put on for the second day of ComicCon, a realization dawned on Y/N, causing her to practically fly across her room to her phone.

Y/N: just so that we don’t accidentally match again Y/N: because i’m sure neither of us wants that Y/N: what are you dressed as today?

Jeno (Anatomy 101): miles morales

Y/N: ok, cool. Y/N: clear.

Jeno (Anatomy 101): you?

Y/N: rogue

Jeno (Anatomy 101): ok Jeno (Anatomy 101): can you delete the picture now

Y/N: nope!

Seen at 11:57am

taglist (strikethrough = can’t tag): @bambisnc @nicholasluvbot @yewshi @lotties-readings @wachimingox @moryymor @andyyjw @ayukas @mystverse @meemememeem @hibernatinghamster @i-lovegood @keemburley @huffnpufffckk @zhapire @yutal0ver @miamoreeee @413ktz @imlonelydontsendhelp @vivisoni @jenocity23 @yangsliuist @dee-zennie @haoss @kstrucknet @k-films

[deadpcnned]

you're so vain (jj.m)

coming soon!

general masterlist | join the taglist

pairing: jj maybank x reader (au)

synopsis: for as long as anyone can remember, jj maybank has been a ladies’ man—willing to charm any girl with a pulse. you, on the other hand, have never been easily won over, shutting down unwanted advances without a second thought in the name of higher pursuits.

so when his friends bet he can’t get with you, he sees it as just another challenge. what he doesn’t know is that you have a bet of your own—act like the worst girlfriend possible, and prove that guys don't just stick around for looks.

at first, it’s just a game. your weird quirks and stubborn attitude are nothing he can’t handle, and his flirtations are nothing more than motivation for you. but with every passing day, it all seems less like a game and more... real. what happens when winning the bet means losing each other?

* this series is inspired by 'how to lose a guy in 10 days' *

content warning(s): au, drugs, alcohol, language

author's note: uh oh, another series... like most girls, i am such a big fan of this movie and i couldn't resist adding my own spin to the plot. this series won't be starting until probably the end of february, but i wanted to go ahead and post it!

“I seriously doubt a guy would stick around if he were fishing out spinach from my mouth every time we kissed,” You mumble, rolling your eyes at Ruthie as you return to tightly winding Sarah’s hair around the curling iron. Your grip tightens around the pink handle, more from exasperation than focus. Topper seriously needs to reconsider his recent taste in women.

Ruthie pushes herself up from the bed and saunters over to the two of you, a spark of mischief shining in her eyes that catches your attention in the mirror. Without warning, she scoops the ottoman from under your knee, ignoring your annoyed huff as she plops down. “You don’t get it, do you?” she says, shaking her head as if she’s explaining something painfully obvious. “Boys are simple. They’ll do anything for a good fuck.” 

“Ruthie!” 

“Sarah!” You exclaim, pulling away the curling wand hovering dangerously close to her turned cheek. “Stop moving! I almost burned you!” You cautiously rest your curling wand on the vanity, crossing your arms as you address Ruthie’s tireless campaign. “Ruthie, that’s just not true. Men suck, but they’re not that desperate.” 

“Care to test it?” The look she gives you, so full of unwarranted confidence, makes it tempting to agree blindly to whatever nonsense she’s about to spew. But in the short time you’ve known her, you’ve gathered jumping headfirst into whatever she plans is maybe not the smartest thing to do. 

“How would we do that?” You arch a brow, playing it cool, the picture of nonchalance. Girls like Ruthie want you to bark when you should be biting back. The best way to handle them is to beat them at their own game. It doesn’t matter how uneasy her grin makes you. You have to look like the picture of perfect insouciance. 

“Easy. You reel in some sucker and make him regret it. Clingy, loud, jealous – I’m talking full nightmare fuel.” 

“Me?” You scoff, reaching for the iron. “Sarah, I swear, if you move–”

 Sarah hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t angle her face towards the circular mirror like you need her to. She’s too busy watching Ruthie, waiting for her following words. 

“Yes, you.” 

“Why do I have to be the guinea pig?” You fuss, shifting your position to continue working on Sarah’s hair. You twist Sarah’s blond hair around the silver rod as you suggest, “You test it out with Topper. You’re the one with something to prove.”

“I’m actually serious about Topper,” Ruthie counters and you have to physically bite your tongue from making a snarky comment. “And you’re perfect for this. You’re objectively hot and leaving at the end of the summer. No strings with a hot chick? Guys eat that up.” 

“Ruthie, remind me again why you’re with Topper if you have such a low opinion of the entire male species,” Sarah asks. Sarah eyes Ruthie with a mix of genuine curiosity and plain judgment. Ruthie doesn’t dignify Sarah with a response, upholding the same catty attitude she’s maintained with her since the start of the evening. “Or not.” 

You and Sarah share a long look, not hiding your indignation, but you can’t deny that beneath you’re irritation, you’re a little interested. You would be in the Outer Banks for three months; you might as well find a way to kill time. 

“Done,” You announce, pulling back and smiling at your handiwork. As Sarah fluffs through her hair, you ask, “So, I just pick any guy and make him miserable?” 

Sarah spins around at a dizzying speed, her jaw dropping open. “You’re considering it? Like, actually?”  

You give her a sheepish shrug and look to Ruthie for confirmation. 

“No, I get to choose.”

“What, why?” You scoff. 

“Cause you’d choose someone you already know, and those guys have been harboring unrequited crushes on you since you were, like, twelve.” You try not to betray your surprise. Somehow, Ruthie knows more about your life than you want her to. You weren't sure how Ruthie knew this about you, but it wasn’t entirely untrue. 

“Fine,” You huff, flopping down onto your bed. “Who, then?”

Ruthie’s smile is one you could only describe as downright devilish as she leans in, lowering her voice to a lethal whisper. “Who else but Kildare’s biggest fuckboy? JJ Maybank.”

taglist: @rinaarii @kaisgirlie @loophole3 @flourelle @xobeautifulfaith @brooklyn789 @jjscoquette

*if you would like to be removed, pls lmk!

[alchemistc]

@kirkaut posted something the other day about a serious dearth of magical aus in the 911 fandom and it got me thinking about soulmate aus.

Tommy who finds it glaringly ironic that the one color he's never been able to see is red - he's tasted the blood of his fellow soldiers in his mouth, he's seen his father incandescent with rage, he's watched a man blush and duck his head and felt the heat in his cheeks when Tommy slides his fingers to his cheek to tilt it back up, but he's never seen the color red. The metal sidewalls of the engines he'd trusted with his life for more than a decade, the lights that began with the klaxon and ended only when a scene was contained - fields of poppy he'd flown over on one tour that everyone else exclaimed over even as he took in a swath of green and grey, the sepia of a single rose.

Tommy, who shakes Evan Buckley's hand and notices that the birthmark over his eye is stained a color he's never seen before. Tommy, who turns to look at Evan Buckley while his old captain reunited with his wife only his lips are bleeding away from the beige he's always been able to perceive. Tommy, who kisses Evan Buckley in the orange light of his apartment and when he opens his eyes the orange is richer, Evan's cheeks are brighter, his lips are something that must be pink pink pink. In his car he experiences a red light for the first time and can't imagine anything more joyful than making Evan Buckley flush and blush, and blush, and blush again.

[s-soup111]

Make sure it kills me

Paring: Jinshi x (f) Reader

Genre: angst

Tags: , one-sided love, arranged marriage, hanahaki au

“You’re breaking me.” You concluded in your letter. It’s not as if you were going to send it anyway, you placed the carefully folded letter into your locked drawer along with all your other heartfelt paragraphs. What was the point? He didn’t return your feelings anymore. Yes, maybe you did once share small intimate glances, hold pinkies as you walked down the flower garden together. Maybe you did share secret kisses under the softening gaze of the moon-lit pond. Where did that go?

“Was it ever real?” You ask yourself.

Maybe it was. But that was all in the past, Jinshi no longer belongs to you, he belongs to that servant named Maomao. You’ve seen the way he looks at her, with gleaming eyes and intrigued grins. You’ve seen how he gave her his hair pin, you’v seen it all. Jealousy swirling in the pit of your stomach, how pitiful.

Why does he love her? She’s just a servant, strange green hair and a freckled face, she is nothing compared to a beauty like you- you held a graceful complexion, you had an air of confidence not only beautiful but superiority. Just as the daughter of the emperor should. You were perfect, so why doesn’t he look your way anymore? Maybe it was because of how perfect you were. Maomao was anything but perfect, an unpredictable character and lower class. So imperfect but kind.

You choke on something, suddenly you find it difficult to breathe. You struggle in your room but no one comes to help you, all your ladies in waiting are outside by your order. How ironic. You hyperventilate in your own room, coughing, tears swelling in your eyes- you reach out trying to grasp onto something. You fall and your sight fades.

Jinshi is not aware of your falling ill until Maomao is summoned into your quarters. Jinshi knows you will be fine, he is not so concerned for your health as he knows Maomao will fix you some way or another, so he does not find the need to visit you. Not until Maomao ushers him urgently with a sense of panic in her eyes does he start to notice something is wrong.

“The madam is severely ill.”

Jinshi rushes to your quarters as soon as he hears this, you never get ill, so why now? As the emperor’s daughter you have been treated with the utmost care, therefore almost never falling ill. He drags Maomao with him, telling her to fix you immediately, not a request, an order. She’s never seen him this way, not with sweat falling from his face in panic, eyes scanning you with concern, hands shaking. Not the usual flirty, perverted man she’s used to.

You open your eyes, searching around your room for any signs of human presence, you see Maomao sitting next to you, head hung low with dark circles sitting under her shut eyes. She must have taken a long time to treat you, you are grateful. You try to raise yourself but it strains your body, your arms supporting your body are weak and unstable, you let out a dry cough- leaving behind a beautiful pink petal on your bed; yet you do not notice and leave your room quietly.

The moon is bright; yet it is a cold and star-less night, you stare at it for some time before you feel the icy breeze get to you. Your body feels weak and worn. In another timeline, Jinshi would wrap his robes around you, shielding you away from the wrath of the night. You walk away pathetically, not the blood trickling from your mouth.

Jinshi watches you from a distance, he is paralyzed by your beauty, ethereal in the moonlight fanning your pale skin, he watches you gaze into nothing in particular, he sees puffs of smoke leave your mouth every time you exhale. You must be cold, he is too unsure if he should go towards you. He sees you turning to move away, his eyes catches something but isn’t sure what it is. Suddenly, he realizes Maomao isn’t next to you and worries. But this time, he worries for you than her.

You are heard by the maids weeping and sobbing in your sleep, often beseeching Jinshi to come home, the life left your body, only leaving some empty shell, your body pained and ached, vomiting blood and pretty pink petals, your health declined to the point you could not manage your household affairs and Jinshi was forced to take over. Jinshi visited your room as much as he allowed himself to; he watched your weak frame struggle to breathe as more tears rolled down your face.

For some reason his heart ached to see you like this, he thought he’d lost feelings years ago. Maybe his heart just didn’t want to let you go.

“Beloved..?” You reach out one night. Jinshi is nose-deep into his work as he hears your voice. He turns around abruptly, heart hammering in his chest. You looked enthralling even deeply ill. Though, you had tears staining your face, “Jinshi, please.” You cried. You coughed, spitting out flowers that tasted bitter on your tongue.

“You’re breaking me, please stop this my love,”

“You know I can’t do that,”

“Then kiss me. Kiss me like you love me, tell me you love me even if you have to lie.”

“I love you.”

You look at him, the ache in your heart has not gone.

“You’re merciless.”

[the-universal-sun]

stan putting off regressing when he needed to and having a meltdown with fidds and/or ford helping? ❤️

Hey guys! Sorry it's been a few days. I've been a little sick these past few days, so I've been away from my computer for the most part. But I'm feeling much better now! This takes place in the 80s, an AU where Stan and Fiddleford got Ford back after a couple of years!

There is a scene wherein Stan briefly hits his head with his hands, starting at "When that doesn't work..." and ending at the end of that small paragraph.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange. In the house, the soft hum of the evening felt insistent, like the ticking of a clock that grew louder with each passing minute. Stan sat in the living room, surrounded by the comforting chaos of his brother’s ramshackle house. The creaking floorboards seemed to echo his thoughts. He could feel that familiar pull, that soft haze and gentle fuzzy feeling tugging at the back of his mind-an urge he’s learned to resist being tempted by. Though there were the reassurances of both Stanford and Fiddleford that there was nothing wrong with him, that how his head gets sometimes is completely okay, that they loved taking care of him. Stan got up and paced the cluttered floor, his mind racing as he tried to drown out the world around him. He felt the familiar tug at his mind—the sensation that he kept trying to ignore all day. All week, really. Doodles lay scattered across the floor, evidence of his battle with the sensations that enveloped him. Every time he absentmindedly started coloring or drawing, he felt a wave of anxiety choke him, leading him to tear the paper into shreds and toss them into the trashcan.

     It's not that Stan doesn't like it, the fuzzy feeling he gets, but it's embarrassing, he's a grown man approaching 30, dammit! He shouldn't be carrying around a stuffed bear, coloring, and playing with blocks while two other grown men flutter around and coo at him! Sometimes when he's in town, he can feel people's eyes on him, like they know what happens-like they're judging him, like he's a freak. He can feel the need crawl around and itch under his skin. But he can't! He needs to prove to himself that he's capable of acting and being an adult! That he is an adult!

     "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" Stan chants, frustrated by his own harried thoughts, wanting his mind to calm down and let him be, to escape the fuzzy haze creeping up on him. For all these thoughts to leave his head. He brings his hands up and pulls on his hair, hoping the pain can bring some clarity to his mind. When that doesn't work, he switches to hitting his hand with his palms, muttering "stop it, stop it, stop it..." with each hit until he feels six-fingered hands grab his wrists and pull them down with a-

     "Stanley, stop!" It's Ford who's grabbing his hands, his face drawn. He doesn't look angry, he looks upset-distraught-but not angry. Stan thinks he wants him to be angry, to yell and fight him and treat him like a damn adult. "What are you doing? What's happened?"

     "Nothin' happened. I'm fine." Stan bites out, trying to pull his hands back from his brother's iron grip to no avail. "Let go of me, Stanford. I need-I need to go" He pulls harder, almost wrenching his shoulders out before he feels another pair of hands come up and gently but firmly grasp his shoulders. Why do they have to be so gentle with him? Even when he's acting normal, when they get into arguments or small fights, there's no hitting or punching-nothing beyond the play fighting Ford and Stan will do sometimes. Stan's not used to it, not after violence has been his life for almost a decade.

     "What ya' need to do is calm down and talk to us, Stanley. Let Ford and I help, we're worried about you." He hears Fidds' voice in his ear behind him, his hands on his shoulders. Ford's hands firmly but gently held his wrists. Stan wants too badly to sink into that haze, to let them coddle him and hug and rock him, but he can't. He doesn't even know why anymore, why he hasn't let himself indulge.

     "Well stop worrying about me-I'm a grown-ass man and I can deal with myself." He can see Ford's eyes shift to look behind him, a silent conversation with Fidds. Usually, that would bother him, but right now he just wants to get out from their grasp, go to his room, and hide away from them-and the world-until he can get his head on straight.

     "I think I'm starting to understand what the problem is here. Stanley, it's been approximately 10 days since you've gone down-" that's what they call it when Stan's head gets fuzzy and he acts like a kid-"and after months of the same routine, your mind and body are used to going down at least twice a week. It's safe to say you're just in need of-"

     "No! I'm not in need of anything 'cept you letting go of! Me!" He tries to wrench himself to the side but crashes to his knees with a stilted sob as Fidds' arms wrap around his body from behind just as he makes his move. Why did they have to push this? To have his body so used to these feelings that he now needs it to function? Why did they have to care for him. He doesn't sob, he refuses to say he did. Stan just brings his hands up-Ford let go when Stan made his move-and presses his face into them so hard he can see stars bursting out from the darkness. "I can't do this," he muttered piteously into his hands, his voice warbling and throat feeling thick. " 'M not a kid, I don't need this. I shouldn't need this. I need to grow up." He wants to cry, he wants to go under, he wants Poindexter. Stan just wants to noise in his head to stop. He whines, feeling Ford kneel and bring an arm around him, Fidds laying his head down and Stan's shoulder and nuzzling it, shushing and humming.

     "Stanley...It's alright to feel like you do, and it's alright to feel frustrated by it. You've lived a hard life, and we both know comfort like this was a rarity in our home. But you can be safe here," Ford sits down next to Stan, his knees aching from the kneeling. "Fiddleford and I would never judge you, Lee. We love taking care of you."

     "But why? Why do you like taking care of me when I act like that-like a kid? Why do you care about me?" Stan's voice breaks on his last word, tears bubbling up to the surface and spilling down his cheeks, dripping and staining Stan's sweats.

     "What's not to care about, Stan?" It's Fiddleford who answers this time, Ford seemingly at a loss for words at Stan's questions. "You're such a kind-hearted and warm fella. You care so deeply about your friends and family, I know you'd go to the ends of the earth and then some for 'em. And you're funny as all get out. Real hoot, I'd say. Caring for you is like a breath of fresh air, Stanley. It soothes m' soul. So you can be tiny if you need to, Bubs." Fiddleford's words get a small laugh/scoff out of Stan, the kind words bringing some warmth to his heart. But he looks towards Ford, needing to hear him say something, anything. A confirmation that he does care for Stan. And his words hit like a gut punch.

     "I love you, Stanley. You're my twin, my best friend from birth. You never judged me for my hands, for my curiosities and obsessions. You protected me from bullies and my own thoughts. You came at my darkest hour to help me, even after we were estranged for a decade. You made a life and job for yourself here, you paid off my loans and debt. You brought in F and helped him stop his memory gun usage. Stanley, you worked tirelessly for two years to bring me back after the portal incident. You're my hero, you always have been. And I can't possibly describe how much joy it brings me to see you unwind and relax, to look so happy, to be so happy. I love caring for you, truly, from the bottom of my heart, to be someone you can trust to protect you. I love you." And that does it, Stan's sobbing into his arms, into Ford's arms, his heart feels like it's bursting, and he can feel himself plummet down. His mind calming as his fuzzy haze washes over it, his mind losing the battle as soon as Ford finishes speaking, the confirmation that he is so loved is what he needed, he realized. That he wasn't some weird burden on them when this happens, that he didn't have to be an adult all the time. He hasn't felt this loved in forever and hasn't ever been cared for as he is now.

     He's still sobbing into Ford's arms as he's led up the stairs into his room, a pair of hands changing him into his softest sweater-it's got footballs all over it-and wrapping him up in his Teddy Bear blankie. He blinks and sniffles as he feels cold wetness swipe across his face, Fidds had wet a wash cloth and was wiping the tears from his eyes. Stan smiled at him, giggling when Fidds smiles back with a goofy grin. Sixer helps him lay down in bed and tucks Poindexter in his arms-still cocooned in his blankie-brushing his hair back and away from his forehead, like Ma' used to do when they were really young.

     "There we go, Lee, feeling nice and comfortable and cozy? Is Poindexter tucked in enough?" Fidds asked, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, tucking the quilt under Stan's legs even tighter, knowing how much he liked that feeling. He nods and mumbles, not feeling up to speaking. He just wants to lie there with Poindexter, Sixer, and Fidds and stay in this hazy feeling forever, his body aches now that he's relaxing, he was so tense for days. "That's good. I've gotcha here a book to listen to, is that alright?" That's more than alright to Stan, who just nods and hopes Fidds does the voices for the book, he loves it when they do voices for the people in his books.

     "Here, Lee, let's not chew on your friend's ear. I've got you something better." His brother says, guiding Poindexter's ear out of Stan's mouth. He didn't even realize he was chewing on it. He gives his stuffy an apologetic pat as Ford guides Stan's pacifier into his mouth. It's got a car on it that's made to look like "The Stanley Mobile". It's so cool. Ford made it as a surprise for Stan a few weeks ago. He snuffles behind it, leaning his cocooned and burritoed body into Ford's as he settles down beside him, an arm reaching over and cuddling Stan as close to his body as possible. Stan just snuggles into his shoulder, feeling his breathing and matching it, leaching his brother's warmth and hearing his matching heartbeat.

     "There was once a Velveteen Rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid..." Stan just relaxes into his brother's warmth as he finds himself enraptured in Fidds' storytelling. His mind finally calmed and his heart sated and happy.

[pinkpinkmermayyy]

pink iron man helmet drawing from yours truly <3

@lunadensmidnightprowl @sh3s4k1ll3rqu33n @under0-0s @transgender-tonystark

[arcane-vagabond]

Stranger Like Me: Chapter Three

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

ContentWarnings: Language, Suggestive thoughts, Suggestive commentary, Jake being crass, Bradley and Boots in their feelings, Bradley's horny thoughts, caressing of female body parts. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 2.7k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Moodboard 3

You had settled into an easy routine over the past two weeks, the first trying to iron out the different kinks. Dr. Kazansky had determined that your ankle would take around four weeks to heal if you kept off of it, and as it turned out, Bradley was more than happy to assist. You could think of only a handful of times that you had been on your feet, the large man appearing first thing in the morning to carry you around camp.

Of course, the boys had given you endless shit about it, Jake being the loudest. The second morning after your accident, Bradley had waited for you outside your tent as you changed, his deep, brown eyes surveying the jungle stoically. He had wordlessly scooped you up in his arms as you hobbled towards the entrance, carrying you effortlessly to where the others were already gathered for breakfast. Javy had raised an eyebrow in question, but said nothing. Bob was too busy going over something with Ice to pay you much mind. Jake had walked over from his tent at the same time and let out a loud snort at the sight of you.

“Is this going to be a regular thing now?” He had snickered, gesturing to where you clung to Bradley. “Is he a taxi service now?”

“I’ve already tried explaining to him that I don’t need him to carry me everywhere,” you scowled at the blond. Bradley placed you gently on the bench before plopping down right next to you, Jake taking up the space on your other side. “He’s just insistent upon doing it, is all.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” he drawled as Javy placed a plate of eggs in front of you, “I’d think you like him carrying you around everywhere.”

You cast him a sideways glance as you shoveled a fork full of egg into your mouth, brow pinched together in indignation.

“I don’t.”

“Sure,” Jake hummed, giving you a knowing look before bumping your shoulder with his. “And jungle man over there also doesn’t get a hard on every time he looks at you.”

“Jake!” You exclaimed, cheeks warming as Javy cackled and Maverick cleared his throat, his own cheeks growing a nice shade of pink at the turn in the conversation. Bob and Ice looked over at the two of you, matching shocked expressions on their faces.

“Don’t be crass,” you hissed at the blond, swatting at his arm. He rolled his eyes, accepting the plate Javy handed him with a quiet thanks.

“Is it really being crass if I’m telling the truth?”

“Yes,” you snapped, cognizant of the fact Bradley had been inching closer to you as each moment passed. Jake rolled his eyes at you, but said nothing more.

The next couple of days had you struggling to figure out how to do various chores around the camp. Cooking was easy enough until you needed to get up and grab something.

The first time you had stood up, Bradley’s head had shot up from where he was flipping through one of the sketchbooks Ice had laying about. His honey-colored eyes watched you intently as a frown tugged on his lips, standing when you made to move.

“No,” he said, pushing down on your shoulders gently.

“Bradley, I have to-”

“No,” he said again, more firmly this time, eyes intense and brows pinched. “Hurt.”

“I’m not so hurt that I can’t walk the three feet to grab a spoon,” you scowled at him. He raised an eyebrow at you, turning and walking the few, short steps across the eating area to pluck a spoon out of the container and bringing it to you. You accepted it with a huff, not missing the satisfied smirk that appeared on his face at the small victory.

Laundry was done down by the river, an ever watchful Bradley sitting on one of the stones beside you as you scrubbed the various articles of clothing. He watched you carefully, an unreadable expression on his face as you worked through your task.

After the first half hour, you began to grow increasingly self conscious once you realized he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for more than a couple of seconds at a time the entire time you two had sat there.

“Aren’t you bored?” You asked him, wrinkling your nose. “I mean, it can’t be fun to just sit here and watch me do all this. Wouldn’t you prefer to help Mav or Ice or someone else? I’m sure they’re having much more fun than we are.”

Bradley’s gaze hardened in confusion. Shaking his head, he shifted slightly, leaning closer towards you.

“Like being with you,” he murmured, the hint of a smile on his lips as he looked at you. The heat on your cheeks had nothing to do with the sweltering jungle heat, and you quickly averted your gaze, pretending to inspect a stain on one of Javy’s shirts. Your eyes darted up when Bradley crept towards you, and for a moment, you were reminded that this man was raised by apes, not humans. His leg stretched out to rest beside you, the rest of him slinking after until he crouched right in front of you, his nose almost brushing yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you swallowed thickly as he reached a hand up to brush his fingers across your cheek. His eyes darted down, lingering on your lips as they parted. A shiver ran up your spine as his fingers trailed down, running over your bottom lip, and the intense look in his eye became hungry as you let out a quiet gasp. He let his fingers linger for a second before pulling them away and towards a strand of hair that hung in your face. Slowly, he pushed it back behind your ear, letting his palm cradle your jaw as the two of you sat silently watching each other.

The sound of jungle leaves rustling broke the two of you out of your trance, and Bradley let out a growl as he positioned himself in front of you, glaring intensely at the spot where the noise was coming from.

“Hey, you two!” Maverick called, coming into view with a smile. Bradley immediately relaxed back into his spot beside you, but the frown remained. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was annoyed. You cleared your throat, your head still clouded from the intensity of the prior moment.

“Hey, Mav,” you greeted, attempting a smile that you were sure came out as more of a grimace. “What brings you by?”

“Oh nothing,” he grinned. “Just wanted to see if you needed any help with the laundry. It’s very kind of you to offer to do it while you heal up. I know it’s not the greatest chore.”

“I want to feel useful,” you offered, shrugging.

“Well, nevertheless, it’s appreciated,” Mav smiled. “Do you need any help carrying everything back?”

“No,” Bradley snapped, leveling Mav with a glare. The older man looked a little taken aback by the ferocity of Bradley’s answer, but recovered quickly, shooting you a brief, knowing look.

“I see,” he hummed, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “Well, if the two of you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and headed back towards the camp. Once he was out of sight, Bradley huffed, turning back to look at you.

“What’s got you so grumpy?” you asked him, chuckling slightly. Bradley didn’t answer, instead, reaching out to twirl a strand of your hair in between his fingers, bringing it up to his nose and taking a long, deep inhale before giving you another heavy look. Your cheeks heated up once more before you ducked your head down to start the process of scrubbing the laundry once again. You tried not to think about how Bradley’s muscles had bulged when he was crouched in front of you or how his intense look made your thighs clench together.

You were sitting in one of the research tents a week later, transcribing some notes for Dr. Kazansky the following week, having begged the older man for ways to be of use given you were slowly losing your mind doing all of the mundane chores. Bradley was perched in a chair next to you, flipping through the rough sketches Bob had made of some of the baboons and wrinkling his nose.

“What’s that face for?” You giggled, glancing over at him. Bradley huffed and shook his head, giving you a solemn look.

“Baboons are annoying.”

You burst into a fit of giggles, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you looked at him fully. Bradley’s gaze softened as he listened to you laugh, a tinge of pink coating his cheeks.

“Yeah?” You asked him. “How so?”

Bradley straightened up in his seat, rolling his eyes as he thought back to the countless run-ins he’s had with the creatures.

“They scream a lot,” he scowled, lips pursed as he gives you a serious look. “And they steal my food sometimes. It’s hard to catch them because they climb the trees so fast.”

You had quickly grown used to how articulate Bradley actually was over the course of the last week and a half. You supposed it was no surprise considering he’d had ten years of practice, but even Tom had seemed surprised when he walked in on Bradley telling you a story one day, the younger man animatedly telling you a story about a trick he played on one of the younger members of the gorilla troop he lived with. Now you wondered if the older two men even knew if Bradley could string together more than a couple of short sentences.

His sentences could still be choppy at times and his answers short and direct, sure, but the more you showed interest in what he had to say, the more he found himself opening up and saying more. Bradley found that he liked the way you reacted to what he had to say, and he tried to practice at night once he knew you were asleep. He found himself visiting with Maverick and Tom more, asking them questions about different words for different feelings and ideas. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted you to know him, to know what he thought about things and how he felt about the world. Maybe it was because he wanted to know those things about you too and to talk about them with you.

“They are pretty fast, huh?” You asked, leaning forward a little more, unknowingly pushing your breasts together and exaggerating your cleavage. Bradley’s eyes flickered down, and he felt a familiar stirring in his groin. He found that this feeling also happened quite frequently around you, and it was often the simplest of things that set it off. It happened when he watched you bend over and dry your hair after a bath one day. It happened when you stretched after sitting hunched over too long, your back arching as you raised your arms over your head. It happened sometimes when you looked at him through your lashes, your bottom lip captured between your teeth.

He shifted in his seat, unable to tear his eyes away from your chest. He felt an overwhelming need to touch them, to touch you. He often found himself thinking of you. How good you smelled. How soft you were. He wanted to touch you, to mark you as his.

The troop leader, Mutubo Tom had named him, had several offspring, so Bradley wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of mating, or sex as Tom and Maverick called it. However, he wasn’t so sure that his family experienced what he was feeling, at least to this extent. Without thinking, Bradley reached out, running his fingertips over the exposed skin, his shorts growing tighter as he felt the soft, warm skin.

You sucked in a breath, your cheeks heating and eyes going wide as Bradley caressed you. His gaze was intense as he touched you, and you felt a shiver run up your spine when his brown eyes darted up to meet your own. The brown was practically swallowed by black, and you had to muster all of your self control to not throw yourself at him then and there.

“I should, um,” you stuttered after a second, “I should go see if Maverick has started dinner yet.”

You stood abruptly, Bradley following suit. He moved to pick you up, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

“No, I,” you sucked in a breath, “it’s not that far. I think I’ll try walking there.”

Bradley frowned at you, but before he could argue, you beelined out of the tent and into the open air. It was unprofessional to be acting this way, especially with someone who didn’t understand the intricacies of human relationships.

The end of the week brought movie night, and you were giddy when you remembered that it was your turn to pick. Jake and Javy groaned loudly when they saw your choice. You ignored them, taking a seat on one of the couches Maverick and Tom had managed to snag while in the city not too terribly long ago. Bradley immediately sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, filling you with an odd sense of comfort.

“What are we watching?” Bob asked as he entered the tent.

“The Princess Bride,” you grinned as Jake plopped down on your other side.

“You couldn’t have picked anything with explosions?” He asked, wrinkling his nose at you in mock disgust. You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly.

“The Princess Bride is a classic,” you argued. “Don’t be such a guy.”

“I think the Princess Bride is great,” Bob offered, earning dual eye rolls from both Javy and Jake.

“You would,” Jake threw back at the bespectacled man with a grin.

“Explosions and gun fights does not a movie make,” Bob scowled. “It’s good to mix it up every now and then.”

“Exactly!” You exclaimed. “I had to sit through so many hours of Fast and Furious of all things. The least you can do is sit quietly through my movie.”

“Hey, do not knock the Fast and the Furious,” Javy warned, raising his pointer finger at you with a serious look. You rolled your eyes once more but let out a giggle.

“I’ll stop knocking the Fast and the Furious when the movies start being good,” you grinned.

“So, never,” Bob snorted, earning scowls from the other two men. Before the argument could continue, both Maverick and Tom strolled into the tent.

“Oh, The Princess Bride,” Mav grinned, plopping down onto the other couch, Tom not too far behind. “One of my favorites!”

Once everyone was settled, you started the movie, absentmindedly curling into Bradley’s side more and more as the minutes stretched on. Bradley’s fingers came up to play with the strands of your hair, unknowingly lulling you into a deep sleep.

Bradley knew the second you fell asleep, and he smiled softly as he listened to your breathing even out as you relaxed against him. He liked this. He liked how safe you felt with him and how at ease you made him feel. Bradley was somewhat paying attention to scenes in front of him, lost in thought as he tried to understand what was going on. There was one thing that stood out to him, though. A word, actually. He had heard Maverick and Tom say it to each other on rare occasions, but Bradley had never given it much thought before he met you. But, when he saw the two characters on the screen look at each other and say that word, he felt that it might be important. That maybe he should ask them what it meant. You stirred against him, and Bradley felt an ache in his chest as he looked down at your sleeping form. His curiosity could wait for now, he thought. He’d make sure to ask Tom and Maverick what it meant later. For now, he just wanted to stay by your side.

A/N: Reminder to everyone that I am redoing my tag lists! If you haven't added yourself to the new one, please do so! I will also not tag you if you do not have an age listed on your blog or your blog is blank, so if you sign up for the tag list, please make sure you add your age and fill in your blog! As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. You can also find my works on AO3 under arcane_vagabond. If you enjoy my writing, try checking out some of my other series as well and/or leave me a tip if you feel compelled to do so!

[d1s1ntegrated]

i’ve been listening to this song on repeat and can’t get shiggy out of my head. can you please write something along these lines, cause oh my god would this be so hot🥵

porn star dancing shigaraki pov x stripper reader

summary: dabi drags shigaraki to a "titty bar" for his 21st birthday, because "being a virgin at 21 is like a dog who's never had a biscuit". 

cw: quirkless au! dabi and shiggy are best friends, drinking, strip club setting, shiggy's pov, alt!reader, oral virginity loss, language, nudity, oral (male rec), groping, whining, pining, slightsub!tomura, virgin!tomura, slightlydom!reader, teasing, private lap dance, happy ending lol, handjob, headshoving, dirty talk, basically just shiggy being an epic simp loser. wc: ~4230 words

this is from tomura's pov. i felt it would convey his sluttiness best :)

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

"GET OFF THE GAME, DUMBASS. WE'RE GOING OUT". dabi's voice shouts from down the hall. i sigh and roll my eyes, yanking my headset off my head. usually, i'd ignore him, but i knew he wouldn't leave me alone today. i tried not to make a big deal about it, but he's been making a stink about my birthday for months now, as if drinking legally at a bar would feel any different than drinking illegally in my room. but, hell, if it gets him to shut up, i guess.

i groan and stretch myself out of my gaming chair, giving my prized possession a solemn goodbye, and trod out of my room. dabi is waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall. "there you are, freak. you ready to go get wasted with a bunch of topless bitches?" he looks me up and down, smiling sadistically. i shrug, and he pats my shoulder.

"come on, lets get trashed." i know i can't argue with him, so i follow him out the door, thinking about how badly i'd rather go back to my room and play league. whatever.

---------------------------------------------------- the club is sketchy, to say the least. a dark grey exterior with no windows, just one neon sign above that reads "the silk iris" in flashy pink lettering. at least it's not named some weird shit like "vixen den".

i suck air in through my teeth as dabi lights a cigarette next to me. "can we go home?" i say miserably next to him. he chuckles, taking a long drag.

"fuck no, shigs. we're goin' in, and i'm gonna tell those pretty girlies in there that it's your birthday" he flashes his teeth at me and instead of a smile, i see a predator baring its fangs in warning. fuck my life. i try to beg him not to, but he's unreceptive.

"please, dabi, i'll go in, fine, but dont tell them shit, please" i clasp my hands together and shake them at him, as if im praying. but if dabi was a god, he was a cruel and evil one, who doesn't answer prayers.

"fine fine, shigaraki. i'll be nice, i promise." he curls his lips and tosses the finished cigarette to the ground, crushing the filter under his boot. he grabs my shoulder and guides me with an iron grip to the door. "lets go!" he slaps my back hard and i grimace. no going back now.

the door pushes open and immediately, the smell of heavy smoke and cheap cologne rushes my sinuses. theres another door between the club and the entrance, and a part of me wishes i could just sit in the lobby all night. but dabi whips his id out, and i reluctantly follow. we flash them at the bouncer, who nods and grins wide when he sees mine. "happy birthday man. have fun". his voice is gruff and deep, his body towering over mine. i force a slight smile, and nod "thanks" before begrudgingly going through the door.

the lights are low, thank god. deep reds and purples accent the darkly-painted walls, and the carpet is patterned with some vampiric-looking textile, and i study it intently. the music is so loud, the bass shakes my eardrums, and i groan. if i'm gonna be here all night, i'm gonna need a drink. dabi knows this already, and he drags me over to the bar and nods to an empty stool. i slink onto the worn leather and he yanks my hood off my head before he sits next to me. i grumble but he ignores me, and flags down the bartender.

a tall, slender girl in a very tiny bikini top struts over, big pearly smile on her face. her red hair curls gently around her face, and she greets us with a very peppy voice. "hi boys! what can i get for ya?"

dabi eyes the girl up and down and leans back in his seat a bit, giant smirk plastered to his face. his piercings tug at his lips as he answers, "hey doll. it's actually my buddy's birthday today," he claps my shoulder again and i shrink into myself, "what do you recommend?"

the girl claps her hands together and jumps a bit. "happy birthday sweetheart!" those teeth smile at me again, somehow wider than last time. she turns back to dabi and asks, "is this his first time?"

dabi answers with a bellowing laugh, "ohhh yeah. shig's gonna turn into a man tonight" he nudges me and i force out a laugh.

"well, shig," the bartender drags my name out sleazily, "i have just the thing for you." she trots away from us for a few moments, returning with a shot glass full of a bright green substance. "you like fruity drinks?" she asks and nods at me. i shrug and reply "i'm not sure". she lets out a high-pitched giggle and looks to dabi.

"and for you?""whatever's on tap, sweetheart. and a shot of jameson." his voice is low and he's still grinning. she returns half a second later with a tall beer glass, and a little shot of whiskey. she nods at us and says as she tends to another customer now, "ill start a tab for you boys."

i hesitantly pick up the shot glass and dabi picks his up with me. he raises his brows and laughs. "take the shot, pussy". he clinks his glass against mine and i take a deep breath as we take the first shot. it goes down surprisingly easy, much easier than the cheap whiskeys and vodkas i'm used to. its...actually fucking delicious. the bartender notices us and claps. she brings me another one a minute later and i take it fearlessly, the liquid shooting down to my core, warming me up. "thats a green tea shot, love. just in case you wanna order some more" she winks at me as she slides another shot to dabi, "my shift ends in about 5 minutes, so you'll have to order them yourself from now on! happy birthday, sweetie!" i smile at her, feeling my nerves slowly melting away. i thank her and turn to dabi.

"this isn't so bad" i give him a thumbs-up, and he returns it. he picks up the tiny glass and shoots it back, chasing it with the remainder of his beer. he blinks away the burn and shakes his head. "bartender was cute, eh?" he stifles a belch into his fist and claps my back again. "lets go, emo boy." i slide off the stool and follow him.

he leads me to a couple of seats near the stage. i did my best to avoid looking before, but now it was right in front of me. a couple of girls, about six or seven, were twirling around poles, walking up and down the stage, as men greedily shove their hands to touch them, stroke their legs, grab their asses. some shove dollar bills into their waistbands, others hand them bigger bills: tens, twenties, even some fifties. i scoff and take a seat next to dabi, who's already got his wallet out. he hands me a wad of ones, and i sigh.

"i'm not gonna shove my hands into some poor girls panties," i say to him. he glares at me and rolls his eyes. "the more you shove in there, the closer you get to having it, shig. its like buying pussy, bro. come on, just watch." he stands and leans over the stage as a short blonde crawls over, and he beckons her with a finger. he slides his hand over her barely-clothed tits and shoves a couple bills between them. she blows a kiss at him and stands, spinning around a pole and waving at a few of the men before the girls rotate. this goes on for a few minutes, and i feel myself growing uncomfortable with myself.

i grit my teeth and stand next to dabi, and do my best to entice one of the girls over to me. however, once the girl comes over to me, i panic, and end up just handing her a few of the bills in my hand. i wave and immediately smack myself in the face. stupid idiot, what the fuck was that? dabi notices my folly and laughs at me and shakes his head.

"you dumbass, what the hell was THAT?" he raises his voice over the music and i purse my lips.

"i dont know" i say quietly. my head is spinning from the alcohol. i groan and sit back in my seat, afraid to embarrass myself further. suddenly, the music quiets down, and a voice rings through the speaker, announcing a solo act. "please welcome the beautiful, the terrifying, the eat-your-heart-out....calypso!" the group of men cheer as they hear the name. i look confused as the lights switch to a deep sanguine red, and the music switches over from the bass-boosted r&b and rap to metal. a few of the men get up and go to the bar, but watch as they order drinks.

dabi gets up and i call out for him, but he raises a hand and says, "im getting drinks, dude chill! you'll be fine for two minutes!!" the lights brighten again as a girl comes onto the stage. she, like the others, is dressed scantily, but...differently. my eyes widen as she approaches further. she grabs one of the poles and swings her leg around it, and i can't peel my eyes away. her thigh grips the metal, her fishnets so tight against her, i can see the soft skin poking through the holes. the material stretches thin over her ass, which is plump, with only a tiny g-string to cover it. she drops to the floor and lays on her back, her tits spreading in the top as men grab at her, and she slaps them away. they cheer and lay the bills onto the stage, and she gradually grabs the money, shoving it down her top herself.

dabi returns and hands me another shot. i swiftly take it, not taking my eyes off the dancer on the stage. she wraps her hands around another pole and spins a few times before dropping back down, onto her knees this time. i bite my lip and dabi nudges me with his elbow.

"you like that one, shiggy?" he shouts over the heavy guitar solo. i nod slowly and watch her intently. he chuckles beside me and nods. calypso gets to the edge of the stage and i smack the rest of the ones i have in my hand right next to her tall, chunky boots. she notices me and stares down at me and licks her lips, and i feel myself melt. she bends over slowly and grabs the cash, and drags her long fingernail up my neck and jaw. i gulp as she winks at me and whispers something, but i cant hear her over the music.

i feel myself twitch in my pants. i smile weakly up at her and she turns away, collecting the rest of the money on the wooden floor. she then slowly grabs one of the strings of her top and pulls it, slowly unraveling the knot. she spins around as she pulls the top off completely, and tosses it haphazardly in my direction. i scramble up from my seat and grasp at it, unable to control my impulses. i greedily fist it and shove it into my hoodie pocket, hoping she doesn't notice who took it. i fling back in my seat and dabi high fives me.

"WOOOOO! ATTA BOY!" he shouts at me and downs the rest of his glass. i look back up to calypso on the stage, spinning around another pole sleazily. her movements are fluid and flawless, and i swallow the excess drool in my mouth as i watch her. the way her tits look, her supple curves, the jiggle of her ass against the metal and wood as she dances around the stage. none of the other women on the stage before had gotten my attention, but...she did. i cover my lap with my hands and spread my legs to hide the raging hard-on against my tight jeans.

the song ends after an excruciating few minutes and i let out the breath i didnt know i was holding. as she exists the stage, she drags a clawed hand against the mirror wall at the back of the stage. the whole crowd cheers, a few of the men going so far as to shout her name out. the next solo act comes out and i stand up, deciding to hide in the bathroom for a second. fuck, this doesnt look odd or anything.

i tap dabi's shoulder and tell him "i gotta piss, i'll be back" and he just nods as he stares intently at the next dancer.

i rush into the bathroom and slam the door behind me, locking the stall. i sigh and press myself against the shoddy stall door and yank the top i shoved into my pocket out. i press it to my face and inhale. my cock jumps in my pants as i do so, and i stifle a moan. it smells so sweet, and spicy, and just so fucking good. i palm at the front of my jeans as i inhale. fuck, her tits were in here. fuck. i rub my thumb over the soft material, imagining how it rubbed against her nipples, how the strings tugged at the weight of her tits. i shudder and shake my head, shoving the top back into my pocket. not here. i'll have all the time in the world to get off once i'm home, i remind myself. don't be the guy that jerks it in the public bathroom.

i gather myself as best as possible, splashing water on my face before exiting the bathroom. i shiver at the cold on my feverish face and push the heavy door open to see dabi standing outside, grinning maniacally.

"guess what, birthday bitch?" he tilts his head at me and chuckles. i stare with genuine fear as he points to one of the doors across from me.

"you see those doors, buddy?" i nod my head. "you know what's behind those doors?" i shake my head. the third door to the right opens and a man exits, looking absolutely blown away. a girl in a tight white bikini exists after him, looking distracted. fuck.

"dabi, nonononono, i do NOT want a private dance, nonono please" i tug at his jacket and he shakes me off.

"too bad, buddy. you're gettin' one." i whimper out in fear and clench my jaw. "come on, dumbass. youre 21 now. and youre still a virgin. it's kinda sad. at least get the experience of a lap dance, my god."

"dabi, i do not want a lap dance, i want to go-"

"shigaraki, a virgin at 21 is like a puppy who's never had a biscuit before. now go. second door. have fun!" he laughs evilly again and saunters off to the bar again, leaving me to my own devices.

i could run right now, or...

or i could man up and go get a fucking lap dance.

in private.

with a girl.

fuck it, i say to myself and go up to the second door. i take a deep breath and turn the knob, entering slowly. its empty.

what the fuck?

i take a seat on the giant plush....couch? futon? bed thing? i'm not quite sure, but it wraps around the room in a U-shape. the walls are made of all mirrors, with a sound system laid into the wall, and speakers next to the ceiling. i sit in the middle of the leather seats and scratch my neck anxiously. either dabi set me up real good, or...

a knock at the door startles me out of my thought and i look up. the door swings open and swiftly shuts. i recognize the body...the face...calypso walks in and raises her brows at me. every bit of my drunkenness dissipates at the sight.

"you're the birthday boy, huh? that's convenient. can i get my top back?" she says, her voice low and drawn out. she stares down at me and my eyes feel like they're going to fall out of my head. she's wearing something different now: a tight red top with a thong, pulled up around her hips, accentuating her curves. her boots are frighteningly large, thick leather straps and buckles crossing over her calves and thighs.

i fumble over my words as i pull the top out of my pocket, "i, how did you kn- i'm sorry" i wince at my own voice, and she laughs.

"giant mirror. the look on your face. i'm not dumb" she leans in and whispers the last lines into my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

"oh...okay" i choke out. "sorry" i repeat, and she stands.

"good boy" she nods, and presses a button on the stereo. "porn star dancing" begins to play. i bite my lip and look up at her nervously. she traces my jaw with her nail, just like she did earlier, and climbs into my lap.

"do you want a lap dance, pretty boy?" her voice is sweet and sultry in my ears. i grip her thighs instinctively as she grinds into me slightly and i nod furiously. any intention i had of resisting is gone, as i glance at her ass in the mirror across from us. her thighs are warm and plush, and as she stands back up, i have to stifle my whimper. she turns around and bends over, giving me the perfect view of her ass. i reach out to grab it, and she turns around.

"ah ah, no touching yet, pretty boy." i exhale hard at the way the nickname rolls off her tongue. she continues to bend and sway in front of me, and my desperation grows. my saliva builds rapidly at the sight of her supple body teasing me, and i swallow hard again.

she brings herself back to face me, pushing her soft tits against me. they smell the same as her top, soft and spicy and sweet. i moan and plant a kiss to the flesh and she lets out a soft "hmm". i take this as an okay to touch her, and i bring my hand down hard on her ass, gripping it tightly. she gasps and flashes her wild eyes at me. she sits fully in my lap, grinding her ass against me, bouncing and bending on me.

i cant help but harden back up, my cock beating against it's jean prison again. my breath quickens as she slides off, and suddenly drags a hand to my upper thigh, squeezing it hard. i gasp at the touch and she laughs, a sickeningly seductive smile painting her beautiful face. my eyes roll back as she palms the front of my jeans.

wait.

i look to her now as she licks her lips and bites her lip. she drops down to her knees, her eyes glassy and half-shut as she stares up at me. i look at her in the mirror again, seeing her boots pressing against her plump ass again. i groan and push my hair back, and she fiddles with the front of my pants.

"your friend out there said you were a virgin, is that right?" she draws out, wicked and teasing. i nod and my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "you want me to fix that?" she questions nonchalantly as she pops the button of my jeans.

"wait, what?" i stumble, and she chuckles softly.

"i don't do this for everyone, you know." she points a cruel finger at me, "but when i saw how desperate you got out there, i honestly wondered if i could break you. thank god your friend asked me for the dance, otherwise i'd have to come find you myself" she laughs lowly, and i shiver.

i cant find the words, so i just nod furiously. she smiles up at me and unzips the front of my jeans. i help her by pushing down my boxers, letting my cock spring free. she gives a soft surprised look, and i furrow my brows.

"you're much bigger than i expected" she whispers, and wraps a hand lazily around my shaft. if i wasn't so turned on right now, i might take that offensively. but as she wraps her pouty lips around the tip, i throw my head back, ignoring any cues that this might not be a part of the lap dance.

her tongue swirls luridly around my tip, causing me to gasp. i'm already overstimulated, my cock twitching and jumping at her touch. she takes me deeper down her throat until her nose buries into my skin, and she lets out a low hum against the throbbing appendage. as i moan, she wraps her hand back around, sliding it alongside where she sucks me off, the doubled sensation causing my hips to buck up. she giggles around my dick as she sucks it, and i tangle my pale fingers into her hair. its so soft, just like the rest of her. she moans softly at the sensation of me pulling it, and i whimper. she pulls off of me with a gentle "pop" and i groan.

"you sound so fucking pathetic, pretty boy" she whispers.

"t-tomura. call me tomura" i choke out in rushed breath, and she nods.

"tomura. pretty name for a pretty boy" she nods, and i cant help but moan again at how she says my name. she brings my cock back into her mouth and drags her tongue all the way up, wrapping her soft fingers around my balls and squeezing gently. my body feels like its on fire and i start to feel myself breaking.

"ah-ah, ha, fuck" my breaths tangle with the mantra of swears and incoherent noises spilling from my mouth. i make no effort to stifle myself, there's no point. i grip her hair harder and she presses her teeth ever so slightly into the flesh of my cock, and i tremble. the sensations are driving me wild, and i completely lose control. i watch as her mouth slides up and down, her spit dripping down my length, tangling with the mess of precum already spilling from me.

"hnng, fuck, agh, ah ah, ah, i'm gonna" i whimper out, and she only looks up at me, not stopping. her grip on my balls tightens as i twitch inside her warm mouth, and the sight sends me over the edge.

"god, FUCK, fuck, ah, fuck, i'm cumming, oh fuck, i'm cumming" i pant out, and shove her head all the way down as my cock sputters. she chokes slightly around me as i feel the thick ribbons shoot down her tight throat. i whimper and moan out unapologetically, and she keeps sucking even after i finish, sending volts of electricity through my entire body. she pulls off of me sloppily, a string of drool and cum dripping from her lips. i twitch as the aftershock rumbles through me, feeling the alcohol (and blood) rush back to my head. my breathing staggered. she wipes her mouth with the bottom of my hoodie, and stands.

"you did such a good job, tomura" her voice is slightly raspy as she praises me, and strokes my face. i smile weakly up at her.

"th-thank you, calypso" i breathe out, and she returns the soft smile.

"happy birthday, pretty boy" she turns the music down and heads for the door.

"wait" i bleat out, and she turns, "can we...can i see you again?" she laughs with an exhale, and grins.

"come back next weekend." she replies, and my heart seizes. i nod and look at the floor.

"can i have your number?" i ask quietly.

she chuckles and shakes her head no.

"do you want...the top back?" i hand it to her, and she shakes her head.

"consider it your birthday present." and she walks out the door before i can respond. i shove the top back in my pocket and fix my clothes, checking myself in the mirror before exiting a couple minutes after her.

as always, dabi is standing across from the door, unlit cigarette hanging from his lip. "how'd it go, buddy?" he chortles, and i look up at him.

"we're coming back next weekend" i say, and without another word, i head out the front doors. the bouncer nods at us as we exit, and dabi follows behind with a "fuck yes!".

when we return home, i fling myself into my bed and yank the top out of my pocket. i examine every speck of glitter, the tag, everything. i slip the padding out of it, just for shits, and notice in thin black ink:

"your lucky day.

XXX-XXX-XXXX."

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

hope u enjoyed! i finished this at 3:50am and poured my whole ass heart into it. i had a lot of fun writing this :D

lmk if i should write more from shigs pov, or if a reader pov would be better, i tried to be experimental ;-;

thank u for the request as always!!

xoxo

[vallification]

first time (NSFW)

"womanly advice" // JJK AU PT. 3!

incl: satoru gojo, suguru geto

content: NSFW, unprotected sex, dirty talk, degradation, hair pulling, spitting, creampies, teasing, cunnilingus, f!reader, established-ish relationships

wc: 4.3k

minors/ageless blogs do not interact.

please like, reblog, and tell me your thoughts!!!

satoru gojo

“did you do this for meee?” gojo teases, feigning shock as he drags his fingers across the bare stretch of skin where your pajama shorts would usually be. your hand clasps over his tightly once it starts to travel further inward, your eyes wide. 

“no, actually, you woke me up to come over and i forgot i sleep without pants on,” you correct, stilling his hand with an iron grip that he could easily overcome if he so pleased, but your grip falters when he begins to pepper feather-light kisses under your jaw. “p-plus, we can’t do anything, anyway.”

“you on your period or somethin’?” he murmurs against your neck, his cool breath fanning out over your quickly warming skin. it tickles, but you aren’t giggling; you blush, eyelashes batting as your eyes start to slip shut. no, you think, weakly trying to snap yourself out of whatever trance gojo’s trying to put you in, but failing miserably.

“no,” you whisper, sighing softly when gojo nips at your earlobe before kissing the spot just behind it. biting down on your bottom lip to hush yourself, you decide that some kisses won’t hurt. maybe.

“not ready? just don’t want to? ‘s okay,” kiss, open-mouthed and soft, right at your pulse point. 

“no– no, i want to, i just…” god damn his mouth, you think to yourself, just wanting to finish one sentence without your voice faltering into a pathetic little whine, you swallow, your throat thick with anticipation, before finishing your thought. “haven’t shaved in a while, so…”

gojo’s lips stop working their magic on your neck, and he pushes himself up to look at you, unimpressed. “i’m a grown man.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means exactly what i said,” he emphasizes, pressing a kiss to your lips. “i’m a grown man, i don’t care.”

“... are you sure–?”

gojo interrupts you with another kiss, this one searingly slow, saccharine if not for the implication behind it: shut up. you do, of course, submitting to his kiss with a soft sigh, his tongue taking the opportunity to swipe against the plushness of your lower lip, a silent command to let him explore. 

as if he was in control of both his body and yours, in one fell swoop he changes your position, now hovering over you between your slightly spread legs. gojo’s arms cage you in, one elbow on either side of your head but conscious not to put any weight on your hair, letting his knees slide lower in the bed until his torso is flush with yours. the connection of your kiss never breaks, and gojo’s swallowing every gasp, moan, sigh, and whimper that he pulls from your throat as he glides his tongue over yours. 

snaking your arms around his neck, you let your hands learn the pattern of the crafted muscles of his back,  memorizing the way they feel under the gentle pressure of your fingertips. it makes him groan, something low and free as you rub at the tense, taut, covered flesh of his back. 

breaking the kiss, gojo lifts himself upright to gaze down at you, your lips kissed cherry red and your cheeks blossoming a sort of pink he swears he’s only seen in magazines. one finger slides between his temple and his blindfold, crooking around it and tugging it off, leaving his view of you unobstructed. there’s something about the action that makes you melt against your sheets, wanting more than anything to press your thighs together, yet you’re unable to as he pulls them over his own.  

you hadn’t noticed before, too caught up in tongues and lips, but in the low lamplight, you see gojo’s shirt. black, compressive, clinging to each and every contoured muscle of his body; his arms, his shoulders, his chest, his sides, his impressively stacked abdominal muscles that you could feel before you even saw… and then his hands take hold of the hem of the shirt, peeling it off of himself to join his hoodie on the floor, those same muscles now bare before you. you’re speechless. 

“this alright?” he asks, but you’re completely absorbed in the magnificent view. the way his gray sweats sit low on his hips, the waistband of his boxers visible for a half-inch above them, the chiseled ‘V’ dipping into that waistband, the daunting trail of snow-white hair centered between it all, and the outline of… god, you can’t even finish that thought. “i think somebody likes the view,” gojo teases, so smug that if you weren’t putty in his hands, you’d kick him out here and now.

not keen on waiting for a response, he resumes his previous position, pressed against you at the hips, stomach to stomach. one of his roaming hands finds a temporary home where your left thigh meets the soft flesh of your ass, squeezing, groping, pulling you to hook that leg over his hips. the newfound position gets you closer, spreading your legs apart that much more to finally feel the thick print of his cock against your pussy, only separated by clothes that you’re coming to find offensive. 

artful, narrow hips tilt forward, marking the first rut against you, and you moan at the drag of friction against your core that only you have offered yourself in the past five years. gojo swears above you, crashing his lips into yours as he continues to grind himself into you, hissing as your nails scratch desperately down his back as if you were trying to keep yourself from falling. you buck your hips up, trying to match his rhythm, but your legs are already shaking with pleasure and anticipation, which has not gone unnoticed by gojo. 

“what d’ya want?” he asks, breathless and sultry as he moves to target your exposed neck with his kisses. chasing any trace of pleasure gojo’s willing to give you, your back arches off of the bed with each searing, god-given kiss, and you can barely think, much less speak, but he needs your answer like he needs air. you gasp when you feel his sharp, pearly-white teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, just beneath your jaw, and moan at his rumbling voice as he soothes the spot with his tongue. “tell me what y’want, i wanna know, baby.” 

“satoru, i-i want— fuck,” you whine, far too high on the way you can feel the heat of his cock grind against your clothed, aching pussy. if you spread out far enough, the lightest drag of friction ghosts across your throbbing clit, awestruck at the jolt of electricity radiating from the sensation. another sharp nip at your neck, meant as reprimand, makes you cry out his name. 

“words,” gojo tuts, sliding his hands so deliciously between your bodies and over your stomach, up to your clothed, heaving chest. softly squeezing both of your soft breasts in his hands, he can feel your hardened nipples in his palms through your shirt, and it takes every last drop of his willpower not to rip the shirt off of you like an animal. “i wanna hear you say what you want me t’do, baby, tell me so i can do it.” 

“touch me,” gasping, your voice begging and breathless, having been reduced to nothing by something as juvenile as dry humping and over-the-shirt contact. “please touch me, satoru, i want you to touch me so bad, please.”

-

“you feel s’fucking good, fuck,” gojo whines, ragged and desperate as he fucks into you, so hard and so deep that it would hurt if it wasn’t so damn good. almost all of his weight is pressed into you, with his hands gripping the backs of your knees, folding you up so far you can see your ankles next to your head, limply swaying with each vicious thrust. “this ‘s my fucking pussy, right? ‘s mine, nobody else’s, right?”

“y-yes, yours, ‘s yours, satoru,” rambling pathetically through your unabashed, unfiltered moans, your jaw slack from a primitive sort of pleasure you’ve never experienced before this. the only time you’re even close to hushed is when gojo captures your lips in a kiss so forceful that you’re scared he’ll knock your teeth out, mixing your delirious cries with his guttural, whining moans.

“you’re so perfect, so fucking pretty when i fuck you. hear how wet you are? perfect fucking pussy’s so sloppy,” from that delicious chiseled V-line to his balls, slapping against your ass each time he thrusts into you, gojo’s skin is soaked in your slick, so wet and so much that it’s audible from between you. one hand lets go of its grip on the back of your knee, and gojo leans forward to keep it in place with his shoulder as he grabs a fist full of your hair, forcing your eyes down to where his thick, long cock disappears into your pussy. 

“watch me fuck you, baby, fucking watch it,” he rasps, relishing in the way his grip on your hair makes you cry out. it’s so hard to open your eyes, too fucked out to focus on much, but you obey and watch the way your pussy seems to suck him in, and it almost makes you drool. “so fuckin’ tight, so tight, so tight, god.” 

“‘m gonna cum again, satoru, i-i’m so close, please don’t stop,” you beg, words slurring together like you’re drunk off of his cock. you’re sweating, skin sticky, tingling as gojo pulls almost all the way out of you, just to slam right back inside, the burning stretch of him splitting you open more than enough to send you barreling towards your third orgasm. 

releasing his vice grip on your hair, gojo’s hand moves between you to rub sweet circles on your swollen clit, the pounding pace of his thrusts unfaltering as he resumes the position. he’s drinking up the vision of you beneath him like a man that’s wandered the desert for miles, thirsty and praying for water, burning the image into his mind to remember it forever, and ever, and ever. how your face scrunches up each time the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, how your eyebrows have sloped down almost pitifully, how your glorious mouth hangs open in that perfect little ‘o’ shape around your perfect moans of his name. 

“gonna cum on my cock again, baby? gonna be such a good, good girl and cum for me, baby?” gojo adores the way you babble ‘yes, yes, yes, satoru, yes’ in response to every question, rewarding your behavior with a passionate, messy, open-mouthed kiss to your lips. “let me cum in you, please baby,” he begs against your lips, pussydrunk and hellbent on fucking you till he’s got nothing left. “wanna cum in your perfect pussy, baby, don’t make me pull out.”

the drag of his cock, the way it rubs against that perfect, spongy spot inside of you, the perfect pattern he’s tracing over your clit, his voice, begging to cum inside of you, all of it’s too much to bear when you’re so fucking close. gojo moans at the way your tight, sloppy pussy clenches around him sporadically before your metaphorical string snaps. 

“oh, fuck satoru yes, fuck,” crying, toes curling, back arching, pussy gushing around his cock as your orgasm tears through you like a hurricane, so wet, so sudden, so strong, gojo’s pace still so relentless as he fucks you through it. his ragged, almost animalistic moans take on a whiny, desperate tone as he watches you unravel beneath him, savoring the patterned grip and clench of your pussy as you cum because of him. so pretty for him, so good for him, so perfect— 

“good fuckin’ girl, yes, baby,” he whines, soothing your over-pleasured cries and the burning coil of his own approaching orgasm with more kisses, uncoordinated and sloppy in his efforts. that familiar tightening feeling in his balls warns him that he’s so, so close, and if this were any other time he’d slow down, pull out, switch positions, anything to slow himself down, but– “you feel so fucking good, god, fuck.” 

gojo’s rambling is punctuated with one final slam of his hips, fully sheathing his twitching cock inside of that perfect, sopping wet pussy he can’t stop blabbering about, succumbing to the divine sensation of release. thick, hot, milky-white cum pours into you in quick, powerful bursts, every single one of gojo’s muscles spasming with such strength that all he can manage to do is fuck his cum further inside in short, shallow, uneven thrusts through his climax. 

it’s an entire minute before he can even think about pulling out of you, and the little mewl that leaves your lips when he does makes him want nothing more than to slip right back inside, but he doesn’t. sitting back on his heels, he takes in the aftermath of what he’s done: you, legs spread and shaking, chest heaving, pussy dripping with his cum, dripping down, down, down to a puddle on the bed beneath you with each clench around nothing. 

“pretty,” he mumbles, gathering you in his arms as he lays down beside you. a soft kiss is pressed to your temple, your cheek, and finally your lips. “sleep?”

you don’t think situationships are supposed to do this.

suguru geto

“beautiful,” geto whispers to himself, lips ghosting against the inside of your thigh with every spoken syllable, the brushing contact against your skin doing nothing to ease the growing ball of anticipation in your stomach. at the head of the bed, you squeeze your eyes shut and bite down on your bottom lip, quickly growing unwilling to be patient any longer. even if you’re not looking at him anymore, geto’s magnetic eyes haven’t left your face since he started this torturous exchange.

that is until he finally allows his eyes to flick down your body, taking mental pictures at each pit stop on the journey to the sight in front of him. exposed, untouched, weeping, the beautiful place between your legs that he’s been oh-so-carefully avoiding, not only with his kiss but with his gaze. geto wanted you at the edge of sanity for this, and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you when he looks back up to your face, twisted up as if you were on the edge of being in pain. 

“what’s wrong, baby?” he asks, his smooth, deep voice sickly sweet as he feigns innocence. you can feel the warmth of his lips less than an inch away from your neglected, dripping core, and while you don’t have the bravery to openly react, you make up for it in sheer desperation. something of a sob, a pitiful, sad noise, leaves your bitten lips as you clutch the sheets in frustration. 

“please,” is all you can muster, your voice meek, wobbling as you near tears. 

“oh, don’t cry, baby… please what?”

“fuck– geto, please do something,” you beg, praying that the tears welling up in your closed eyes don’t fall, but more so that he’ll just give in, give you something, give his tongue a task that doesn’t involve torturing you any more than he already has. 

“who?”

“suguru!” you cry out, those tears you prayed so hard not to fall slipping down your flushed cheeks in two steady streams, your display of desperation finally enough to convince geto that you deserve this. 

not wanting any more time to be wasted, geto slowly presses his lips to your achingly untouched pussy, immediately darting his tongue out to lick a flat stripe from your sopping entrance to your throbbing clit. a low groan sounds from geto’s throat as he tastes you for the first time, mumbling something into your wet folds about how good you taste on his tongue. the relief, the pleasure, the vibration of his sultry voice against you, it’s all mindnumbing, your jaw immediately falling slack around a moan of, “yes.”

all of the teasing and taunting no longer seems like it was for nothing more than sick entertainment, the payoff proving to be so much more than worth it when geto’s sly tongue circles your swollen clit, his lips following suit and closing around the little bud and sucking. it pulls something guttural from your throat, a loud, shuddering moan ringing out through your apartment, like music to geto’s ears. 

“your pussy tastes so sweet, baby,” suck, “so beautiful, you’re doing so well,” geto praises between his divine pattern of slow, sensual, deliberate licks over the entirety of your pussy, his tongue dipping inside you before swirling over your clit, sucking, then repeating the process all over again. the consistency of his godsent mouth is brutal, far too careful and calculated to make you overly sensitive, but messy and nasty enough to completely overwhelm your senses.

you’re not sure if it’s because of the teasing, or if it’s because suguru geto is just that good, but you can feel your orgasm building, winding up like a metal spring with each swipe and prod of geto’s tongue against you. the pressure and the pleasure pooling in your stomach makes your thighs start to close around the sides of geto’s face, but the moment your skin touches his, he stops, and you sob.

pushing your legs up to your chest, geto glares daggers up at you, his slender eyes shooting you a warning against letting anything get in his way. “hold them,” he commands, eyes still locked on yours as you grip the back of your knees, now using both hands to spread your pussy open to his liking. “it’d be a shame if i had to stop again, baby. understand?”

“yes, suguru,” you whimper, flustered at the position he’s got you in, so open, so exposed. 

despite his temporary snap, you and geto both melt when his tongue slips back inside of you, your eyes rolling back at the delicious intrusion. it takes little time for geto to work you up to where you were before he stopped, but this time you don’t dare let your legs close, keeping them in a vice grip no matter how hard it is to fight against your own body. 

each controlled, precise flick, suck, lick, slurp against your pussy makes you whine, pulls you closer to the edge, and drives you so fucking crazy that you’re not sure this is real life anymore. geto’s far too absorbed in devouring you to notice, but you’re babbling now, on and on about how you’re so close, right there, don’t stop, suguru, suguru, suguru, oh–

“oh fuck,” you gasp, unaware that an orgasm could roll through you so slowly, so gradually that you’re sure it’s a fakeout until you’re arching off the bed, vision pure white in such a powerful explosion of pleasure that it’s blinding. “suguru, fuck, fuck fuck–”

“oh, baby… look at you,” he mumbles against you, his mouth dripping with your slick, drunk on your taste as he laps at the overflowing gush of wetness from your orgasm, which continues to  roll over you like ocean waves. geto savors the way your overstimulated clit twitches against his tongue, and the way your gorgeous, glistening pussy clenches around nothing. what a shame that geto’s sweet, sweet self-control has run out while you’re so, so sensitive. 

the tip of his middle finger dips into you, eliciting the sweetest little mewl from your lips, gathering your slick with it before slowly plunging it deeper inside of you, letting it sink to the knuckle before dragging it back out. you’re so wet that there’s little resisitance other than the precious little clenches from the aftermath of your first orgasm of the night. a second joins the first when geto slides his nimble fingers back inside, eyes sparkling when he can see the way your pussy grips around them.

how badly he wanted your first time together to be soft and sweet, loving and languid, is completely trumped by how achingly hard his cock sits against his stomach, sensitive red tip soaked in a pool of precum from his position on his stomach. pulling his fingers free from your grip, he wastes no time with undressing, settling for pushing the waistband of his joggers down just enough to let his cock spring free, and while he doesn’t purposefully make a show of his size, your eyes can’t help but grow wide at the sight.

“come here,” geto commands again, his voice a low type of growl you’ve never heard from his lips, and if it weren’t so fucking hot you’d be scared. well, maybe you are a little scared if you add the size of his cock into the equation, but it’s hot nonetheless. you scramble to get yourself up and where he wants you, and you’ve never been manhandled before, but you assume the way he grabs you fits the bill. 

geto lifts you into his lap and slides the two of you up to the head of the bed, resting your back against the cold hardwood headboard before heaving your legs up over his broad shoulders. it’s not too different from the way he had you just minutes ago, but the pressure of his body forcing you into that position is enough to have you begging him to hurry up. 

snaking one hand between your bodies, using the other to grip the headboard in an effort to brace himself, geto guides his aching cock to your dripping entrance and gently starts pushing himself inside you. you wince, flinching when the stretch of geto trying to bury himself inside you starts to feel like it’s going to be impossible without being agonizing.

“s-slower,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut to try and focus on adjusting to his size, expression slightly pained as your head falls back against the headboard. “‘s so big… i don’t know if ‘s gonna fit…”

geto leans back just enough to get a clear path and spits, landing perfectly on your clit and dripping down to his length until he pulls out, sliding his cock against your slick pussy. the sight makes your jaw drop, and you find yourself no longer caring if it’ll hurt. 

“you can take it, baby,” lining back up with you, geto presses his lips to yours, soothing the pained gasps that spill out as he pushes in again. the burning, stretching sensation returns, but you find something so delicious in the pain, especially when he finally bottoms out and the only way you can describe the feeling is so, so full. “now… see? i knew you could do it. so, so good for me, yeah?”

“yes,” you manage to whimper, clawing at his beautifully crafted trapezius muscles over his shirt before tangling your hands into the long, dark hair at the back of his head. “suguru?”

“yes, baby?” geto’s voice sounds so different when he’s fighting the urge to fuck into you, fighting the vice grip of your perfect, tight pussy, fighting the voice in the back of his head that’s telling him to move. 

“please fuck me, suguru, please.”

you don’t have to tell him twice. the drag against your walls, the burn, the stretch as he pulls back just a few inches is sensational, making you grab a fistful of his black hair and tug. it makes geto moan, something so raspy and low that it sounds dangerous, and he snaps his hips back into you even though he’s trying not to hurt you. you cry out, not from a place of pain, but pleasure. 

it takes a few more slow, shallow thrusts for him to feel comfortable enough to find a real rhythm, but once he does, it’s brutal in the same way his tongue was. deliberate, controlled, sensual, intimate, so deep and so consistent. eventually, you’re rambling between moans about how big he is, how good he feels inside of you, how good you’re going to be for him, whiny voice choking up with each bed-shakingly strong roooll-snap! of geto’s hips up into yours.

geto makes no grand show of it, but he’s talkative, roughly whispering against your ear in response to every little babble that leaves your cockdrunk lips, each reply straying further from: “yeah, baby?” “i know, baby, i know ‘s so big, you’re doing such a good job,” and closer to: “god, talking like such a fucking slut,” “you’re so fucking nasty, the way your slutty pussy’s grippin’ me is so fucking nasty.”

you’ve never been one to appreciate such mean words in bed, but his voice, so harsh and so degrading, right against your ear has you coming undone right there in his lap, pussy gushing around his obscenely thick cock with the most desperate cry of his name. it only serves as encouragement for geto, who’s not far behind at all, to keep fucking you like you’re going to run from it if he lets up from his agonizing pace, crashing his lips against yours to hush your cries before he spills into you.

the position allows geto’s cum to seep out of you almost immediately, dripping down his length with each sloppy, uneven thrust up into you until he can feel it dripping down his rhythmically  constricting balls. 

it’s gradual, but when geto’s hips finally settle, still with you on his lap, he gently lets your legs down off of his shoulders while the two of you pant in silence. the hand once used to brace himself against the headboard cradles the back of your head to bring it to his chest, and the hand once used to grip your hip for security rubs over your back to soothe your tired body. 

“sorry about that,” geto mumbles into your hair, placing a kiss atop your head. “got a little rough.”

“‘s good, suguru. ‘m gonna need another shower i think.”

a/n: WHEWWWW y'all i'm pretty satisfied with this. i really hope y'all like it because i had so much fun writing it

@slutshamethesquirrels here you go ;)

[super-sons-week]

Hey guys!!!

Exciting news!!! The Super Sons Prompts are up!!! Huge thank you to @furnypaw for letting us use their art for our posters this year!!! 💖💖💖

Description 👇

Saturday 10/12/24: Coming of Age

Prom/School | Sleepovers | Childhood Friends | First Love

"Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans." "We learn by making our own choices"

Sunday 10/11/24: Gay Awakening

Identity/Self-awareness | Coming Out | Pride | Pink Kryptonite

"You were right"

"Stop trying to kill my man!"

Monday 10/14/24: What is Love?

Unrequited Love | Friends to Lovers | Mutual Pining | Online/Long Distance

"I know the sound of your heartbeat."

"To be loved is to be changed"

Tuesday 10/15/24: Red String of Fate

Soulmate AU | Multiverse | Soul Bond | Second Chance

"In every other universe Robin falls for Superboy and in every other universe it doesn’t end well"

"I'm going to be there for Damian in whatever world I have to be in"

Wednesday 10/16/24: It Was Always You

Mistaken identity | Secret identities/identity reveal | Reincarnation | First Meet

"Oh, I know you."

"How ironic it is that I feel the most alive when my heart skips a beat."

Thursday 10/17/24: Til Death Do Us Part

Super Lords | Wedding/Meet the in-laws | Undying Loyalty | Happily Ever After

"I will love until the end, even if you don’t"

"I would burn the world to save you"

Friday 10/18/24: Free Day

[beskars]

ichthyological studies; chapter one

pairing: silco x reader, modern au rating: mature word count: 3.7k warnings: swearing [ao3] [dividers: @saradika]

The man stared at you in silence for a moment, giving you time to take in the extraordinarily mismatched eyes beneath his furrowed brows. One was seafoam green, the other an ochreous eclipse within a charcoal sclera, accentuated by rivulets of scars that ran the length of the left side of his face. The effect was so mesmerizing that it took you a moment to realize his mouth had tightened irritably under your scrutiny, and you hurriedly wrenched your gaze away, focusing instead on the tiny golden daggers that adorned the lapels of his black button-down shirt, connected by a delicate chain upon each pommel. 

“My daughter is interested in taking classes here,” he replied finally, stepping over the threshold and clasping his hands behind his back as he continued his appraisal of your office. “I wanted to visit first before agreeing.”

chapter one: a respectable organization A frigid breeze rustled the loose sheets of paper tucked beneath your arm as you willed your hand to stop shaking long enough to unlock the doors of Iron & Glass Community Art Center, swearing under your breath as you pushed one open with one shoulder and hastily slammed it shut behind you. The drafty old building offered little respite from the cold, but at least you were out of the wind and could feel your face starting to defrost. After flicking on the lights and unceremoniously dropping your things on your already overcrowded desk, you adjusted the thermostat and set up the space heaters in each studio before finally heading to the kitchenette to brew a pot of coffee. Despite having just paid the previous month, you were already dreading seeing the utility bill for this cycle, knowing that the abrupt dip into freezing temperatures would be especially taxing on the ancient HVAC system. Rifling through the cupboards, you grimaced as you remembered that you had used the last of the beans yesterday. Fuck. Pulling out your phone, you added another item to your neverending to-do list so that you wouldn’t forget again, and resigned yourself to a cup of cinnamon-flavored black tea. Returning to your office, you set your mug off to the side to cool and began sorting out the haphazard piles on your desk, making sure to mark the forms you had printed off that morning with a bright pink sticky note emblazoned with PRIORITY! in thick black Sharpie. You knew you should start with those, but decided to tackle your inbox instead, letting out a groan as you scrolled through the messages that had come in since you had forced yourself to put your phone away the previous night. 

After what felt like twelve hours, you were startled out of your email-induced stupor by the sound of the front door slamming, followed by a series of curses directed at said door, before your coworker, Ava, swept in, depositing a paper cup on your desk with a flourish. 

“It’s cold as fuck in here,” she said by way of greeting, setting her own cup down before dropping into her chair and unzipping her bag. 

“I know,” you replied apologetically, “I turned up the thermostat but it’s going to take a while to warm up. The space heaters are on though so hopefully that helps a bit—” you broke off as she tossed a bag of coffee at you.

“We ran out yesterday,” she shrugged when you gave her a look.

“I was going to get more today, it’s on my list,” you told her, unable to keep the defensive note out of your voice. 

“Yeah, but you have like, four million things on your to-do list already,” she pointed out, one corner of her mouth quirking up before adding, “plus, it gave me an excuse to stop by while Talia was working.” You tried for a moment to recall whether you had heard that name before but came up empty.

“Which one is Talia again?” you questioned, unable to hide your smile at the lovestruck look on Ava’s face.

“She’s the love of my life,” she sighed dreamily, “and the creator of that exquisite cardamom vanilla latte you need to drink before it meets the same fate as that cup of tea.” You grimaced at the abandoned mug on your desk, feeling slightly guilty, before taking a sip of your latte. 

“Holy fuck. She might be the love of my life now, too,” you admitted, cradling the warm paper cup appreciatively. “You saved the receipt though, right? I can’t have you spending your own money on stuff for this place—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ava interjected, pulling out her phone. “I just sent you the receipt. The lattes were free though, Talia said she needed customer feedback before she could make it a seasonal special.”

You snorted disbelievingly.

“Yeah, pretty sure she just wanted to give you free drinks,” you said, adding a note to process the reimbursement to your checklist for the day, “but if she actually wants feedback, please tell her it’s fantastic and should be available year round.”

Ava grinned and glanced back down at her phone, thumbs flying over the touchscreen before she set it down on her desk with an air of accomplishment.

“Done,” she announced, opening her laptop.

“You got her number already?” you asked, impressed.

In response, Ava’s mouth quirked up mischievously as she rotated her cup so that you could see the phone number scrawled on the side, punctuated with an adorably lopsided smiley face. 

“I expect regular updates on this,” you told her seriously, to which she broke into a full grin.

“Is that an official demand from my supervisor?” she teased, and you shook your head.

“No, it’s an official request from your lame friend who lives vicariously through you,” you replied, and she frowned.

“You’re not lame,” she said, “there are plenty of people who would love to date you, you just won’t give them the time of day.”

“Like who?” you muttered, “Creepy Craig?”

The furrow between Ava’s brows deepened.

“Who the fuck is Creepy Craig?” she demanded, and you picked up the stack of forms you had brought in that morning.

“The guy who lives on my floor whose printer I had to borrow this morning to print off these stupid forms,” you answered, making a face. “He said I was welcome to come over “anytime” so…” you trailed off, biting back a laugh at the disgusted expression on Ava’s face.

“Okay, well, normally I’d ask if there’s any potential there but considering the name Creepy Craig, I’m gonna guess not,” she commented.

“Definitely not,” you said emphatically. “And then he started talking about how we should have dinner together sometime since we’ve been neighbors for months and still barely know each other, so I had to shut that down immediately.”

“So what did you tell him?” she asked, and you winced as you mentally replayed the encounter. 

“Um…well, I didn’t want to feel like I owed him something so I offered to trade a commission in return for the use of his printer,” you admitted sheepishly, hiding behind your cup as Ava shot you a look of supreme disappointment.

“First of all, that doesn’t sound like a fair trade at all,” she admonished you, “second of all, you’re busy enough without doing custom pieces for fucking Craig the creepy neighbor!”

“I know,” you groaned, “I just panicked. But it’s fine, I’ll just sketch something really quick tonight and hopefully our printer will be fixed by the end of the week so I won’t have to ask him again.”

Ava stared at you, entirely unconvinced.

“It’s fine,” you repeated, trying to convince yourself. 

“What did he ask for?” she questioned eventually, and you pulled out your phone, scrolling to find the note you had added that morning with the name of the character he had requested. 

“Valeria Stormweaver?” you told her, shrugging, thoroughly unprepared for the scoff you got in return. 

“Of fucking course he plays Soulforge Chronicles,” Ava muttered scornfully, noticing your confused expression and continuing, “it’s a fucking Skyrim rip-off but the only clothing options for women are like, leather bikinis and shit. It’s trash. Here, this is what she looks like.”

Standing up, she carried her laptop over to your desk and turned it so that you were eye-level with a 3d rendering of an extremely curvaceous blonde armed with a broadsword and clothed in little more than a fur loincloth and strip of fabric struggling to contain her comically large breasts. 

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, wondering if you could get away with drawing her in a modern AU so that she could at least wear a crop top instead, “she might as well just be topless, one swing of that sword and those things are popping right out anyway—” 

You broke off at the sound of a knock, heat flooding your cheeks as you took in the sight of a man hesitating in the doorway of the office, the corners of his mouth turned downward in a critical expression. All at once, Ava slammed her laptop shut, expression torn between humiliation and hysterics, as you bolted upright so quickly you knocked your knee into the underside of your desk. Eyes watering with pain, you attempted to compose yourself before opening your mouth and asking, in a voice several octaves higher than normal,

“Hi! Can I help you?” at the same time as the man in the doorway cast a cool glance about the room, one eyebrow lifting slightly as he said, 

“My apologies for the interruption.” 

Shooting a panicked look at Ava, who had hastily retreated back to her desk and was slouching so low in her chair that her forehead was barely visible over the top of her computer, you screamed internally before forcing your face into a bright smile.

“No apologies necessary, we were just—” you broke off, searching for a reasonable explanation as to why you were ogling a hyper-realistic depiction of the formidably breasted Valeria Stormweaver before clearing your throat and starting again. “Sorry, is there something I can help you with?”

The man stared at you in silence for a moment, giving you time to take in the extraordinarily mismatched eyes beneath his furrowed brows. One was seafoam green, the other an ochreous eclipse within a charcoal sclera, accentuated by rivulets of scars that ran the length of the left side of his face. The effect was so mesmerizing that it took you a moment to realize his mouth had tightened irritably under your scrutiny, and you hurriedly wrenched your gaze away, focusing instead on the tiny golden daggers that adorned the lapels of his black button-down shirt, connected by a delicate chain upon each pommel. 

“My daughter is interested in taking classes here,” he replied finally, stepping over the threshold and clasping his hands behind his back as he continued his appraisal of your office. “I wanted to visit first before agreeing.”

You were suddenly all too aware of how disorganized your workspace was, and made a mental note to invest in a desk organizer of some sort.

“Well, good thing we’ve made such a great first impression,” you joked weakly, attempting to dispel some of the uncomfortable tension in the room.

He didn’t even attempt to look amused in return, and you felt your cheeks grow even hotter with embarrassment. 

“Dude,” Ava whispered from behind her laptop as you contemplated fleeing the scene to move into the network of drainage tunnels beneath Zaun, live amongst rats for the rest of your life, and never speak to another human being ever again.

Unfortunately, this otherwise faultless plan was thwarted by the fact that the doorway was effectively blocked by the man staring down his aquiline nose at you, so you shelved it for another day and tried to ignore the sweat dampening your palms.

“Um, would you like a tour of the center?” you offered, relief flooding through you as he inclined his head slightly.

“If you would be so kind,” he answered, and you nodded far more enthusiastically than the situation called for.

“Of course!” you chirped, spotting the mug on your desk and adding, “would you like a tea or a coffee or anything first? I don’t have any brewed but I can make some really quick if you’re not a tea person—”

“Just the tour, if you please,” he interjected, tugging up one sleeve of his perfectly tailored overcoat slightly to check his watch. “I’m on a tight schedule.”

You nodded again, decidedly less enthusiastically this time.

“Right. Right, yeah, of course. It won’t take long,” you mumbled, quickly brushing past him so he didn’t catch the way your mouth turned down at the corners.

What an absolute disaster of a day this had turned into. From having to barter with Creepy Craig to use his inkjet while he hovered just behind you, infiltrating your breathing space with the scent of Funyuns poorly masked with Old Spice to basically getting caught looking at Soulforge Chronicles porn by the haughty parent of a potential student, all before 10a.m. Despite the very official title of ‘Executive Director, Iron & Glass Community Art Center’ present in your email signature, you certainly didn’t feel like the executive director of anything except maybe a movie about being the biggest idiot alive, starring yourself. With some difficulty, you shoved the self-pitying thoughts down and closed your eyes for a moment to reset, determined to prove to this man that this was a respectable organization, and you were serious about the work you did. When you opened them, you glanced over at him, following his gaze as it swept over the various pieces displayed on the walls. 

“What classes is your daughter interested in?” you asked, coming to a stop beside him as he peered at a self-portrait by one of your students.

“All of them,” he replied, leaning in closer to take in the details in the background. “Her preferred medium is mixed media, but she was very excited to see that you offer digital art classes as well.”

You noticed that his expression had softened slightly as he spoke, and you felt some of your earlier annoyance at his brusque dismissal of your beverage offerings ebb away.

“Oh, that’s great! Actually, Ava, who you met back in the office, teaches all of our digital art classes and she’s incredible,” you told him, ignoring the fact that he hadn’t met Ava so much as witnessed her slamming her laptop shut and scurrying away. “Her fall class collaborated on an experimental video installation that was on display at The Bridgewalker Gallery, it was amazing.”

He said nothing, but his full attention was on you now as you opened the door to one of the studios, stepping aside so that he could pass through.

“This is the digital art classroom,” you said, a note of pride making its way into your voice as you began the tour in earnest. “All of the Macs have the full Adobe Suite, as well as Final Cut Pro. We have a bunch of different digital and analog cameras, which students are free to borrow to work on projects outside of class, and we also have open studio hours each week so that they can come in to edit or whatever else they want to focus on. There’s a soundbooth in this closet, and we have a partnership with Echo Chamber if any of our students want to use their facilities to record music or ambient noise or anything to soundtrack their work. We’re working on figuring something out with the university so that students can audit their digital art courses as well but it’s caught up in red tape right now so I don’t know exactly when we’ll have that option available…” you trailed off, watching as he circled the room before offering a small nod of approval.

Given his stoicism up until that point, that tiny inclination of his head felt like a victory, and you allowed it to embolden you as you ushered him back through the doorway and to the studio next door.

“This is where I teach most of my classes — drawing, painting, sometimes printmaking, although I haven’t had enough interest in that recently to dedicate a weekly time slot to it,” you told him, straightening a few of the easels set in a semicircle around the room. “I also have open studio hours so that students can work on projects independently, or just come hang out. They’re not required to produce anything in return for using the space, so long as they’re respectful of everyone else.” 

He frowned slightly.

“Isn’t that distracting for the other students?” he questioned, and you shook your head, opening your mouth to respond before he continued, “Jinx is extremely talented, but she needs structure. She needs to be surrounded by peers who are as dedicated to their craft as she is and want to learn. Not just…‘hang out,’ as you say.”

Scowling at the disdainful inflection in his voice, you crossed your arms over your chest defensively.

“As I was about to say, both myself and all of the other teachers here would intervene if a student was preventing anyone from focusing on their work. It’s happened before. But it’s more important to me that we provide a safe space for everyone to gather, whether or not they choose to participate in the classes. If structure is the most important thing to you, maybe you should look into the Academy of Fine Arts in Piltover rather than a community art center in the Lanes,” you responded, unable to hold back the irritation in your tone.

You thought you saw the scarred corner of his mouth curve upwards into a barely perceptible smile at the jab, but it was quickly replaced by what seemed to be his default expression of poorly concealed disinterest.

“Perhaps I will,” he said smoothly. “Thank you for the recommendation.” 

God, you couldn’t wait to bitch about this guy with Ava once this disastrous tour was over.

“No problem,” you forced out, as if his thanks had been genuine. “Do you want to see the rest of the studios or—” 

You fell silent as he gave a single, definitive shake of his head.

“No, I believe I’ve seen everything I need to,” he replied, and you offered an attempt at a smile that you were certain made you look like a pained ventriloquist's dummy. 

“Okay, well, thanks for stopping by!” you told him, unsubtly herding him back toward the entrance. “Feel free to call or email if you have any questions or anything…” you trailed off, hoping he never took advantage of the offer. 

“I take it you’d prefer a call or an email over an in-person visit then,” he commented snidely, pausing by the main doors and turning back to look at you.

“You’re welcome to visit anytime,” you said evenly, unwilling to let him ruffle you any further. “This space is for everyone.” 

He was silent for a moment, his mismatched gaze flickering over your face before he stuck out one elegant hand, yours rising automatically to clasp it in a firm shake. 

“Thank you for your time,” he murmured, before pulling away and disappearing out the door with a dramatic swish of his overcoat. 

Or at least, that’s what you thought he was going for. The door, however, had other plans and remained firmly stuck in place while he yanked unsuccessfully at the handle. Biting back a smile, you allowed yourself a moment to revel in this obnoxious, imperious man being thwarted by a cantankerous piece of wood before brushing past him with a murmured pardon. Tugging the handle up, you dragged the door open, blinking as a blast of cold air hit you head-on.

“Sorry, it does this sometimes,” you apologized, stepping aside to allow him past you.

“It’s a fire hazard,” he admonished you, pushing the wind-mussed hair off his forehead irritably. “You should get that fixed.”

With that, he strode away before you had a chance to reply, and you resisted the urge to make a face at his retreating back before turning back inside, pulling the door shut tightly behind you.

“What a fucking asshole,” you announced as you hobbled back into the office, your knee throbbing as you flung yourself down into your chair. 

Ava looked up from her laptop, amused.

“I take it he’s not going to be signing his daughter up for classes?” she asked, and you shrugged.

“Sure didn’t seem like it. He was being such a snob about everything, I told him he should just enroll her in the Academy—” you started, before Ava hissed at you, forming a crucifix with her fingers. 

Letting out an undignified snort of laughter, you held your hands up in surrender.

“Sorry,” you told her, attempting to assemble your expression into one of contrition as she fixed you with a serious look.

“You should be. I told you never to speak the name of that cursed place,” she replied sourly. 

“Sorry,” you repeated, taking a sip of your now cold latte. “Anyway, I doubt we passed his inspection so at least that’s one less thing I have to deal with.”

To your surprise, Ava looked slightly put out by this assessment.

“Shame,” she remarked, “I really wanted to ask him where he got that cool collar pin from.”

It had been really cool, but you would rather accept a dinner invitation from Creepy Craig than admit it, so you gave an unimpressed shrug.

“Probably some expensive Piltie boutique with a name like Brass & Brawn Provisions or something stupid like that,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“That sounds like the name of a sex shop,” Ava pointed out, and you felt your face heat with embarrassment.

“Thanks for that,” you muttered, “really don’t want to imagine that guy in a sex shop.”

Opening your laptop, you attempted to refocus on your inbox, oblivious to the way Ava exaggeratedly mouthed, “Sure.”

Despite its disastrous beginnings, the remainder of the day leading up to your drawing class was unexpectedly productive. You managed to catch up on your inbox, at least temporarily so, and finish the tax exemption renewal forms that you had printed that morning. In a sudden burst of motivation, you and Ava even attempted to repair the door yourselves before admitting it was probably left to someone with a full toolkit rather than one Phillips-head and a tape measure. 

Undeterred by your failure as a handyman, you wrapped up your work for the day and began setting up your classroom, greeting students as they began to trickle in and took places behind their respective easels. You were just about to begin a brief lecture on the techniques you would be focusing on for that evening’s assignment when the studio door opened, admitting a sharp-featured girl with two waist length blue braids. She clutched a sticker-adorned sketchbook to her chest almost protectively, chewing nervously on her lower lip as all eyes turned toward her. 

“Hi,” you said brightly, taking a small step toward her. “Are you here for class?” 

She nodded, and you gestured to the unclaimed easel closest to her.

“You can set up right here,” you told her, relieved to see the tension in her shoulders dissipate slightly as the rest of the class fell into conversation while she settled in.

After making sure she had all the supplies she needed, you introduced yourself, urging her to let you know if she had any questions.

“I’m glad to have you here—” you broke off uncertainly, realizing you hadn’t caught her name.

Her mouth quirked up in a fleeting smile so similar to her father’s that you were entirely unsurprised when she told you,

“It’s Jinx.”

[daphwritesworld]

#6 L. Williamson — Partition. (part of the Be My Baby series AU) SNEAK PEAK

Leah Williamson x Athletic Trainer!Reader

!! MINORS DNI 18+ !!

Series Masterlist: here.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♥♠♥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Your whole closet is thrown around your room at this point. Pants, skirts, blouses, and dresses scatter the scene. You’ve been running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off, makeup finally done, outfit on, hair looking semi-okay, but shoes is your biggest problem right now. Nothing looks right and the walls are starting to close in. Why is this so difficult, why is your heart pounding so hard in your chest, and holy fuck did you just hear the doorbell? You whip your head towards your clock— 8:15p.m. She’s 15 minutes late and you’re still not ready? Lord help you.

“JUST A MINUTE!” You shout out towards the door.

You throw on the matching shoe to the single on your left foot, it’ll have to do. The mirror in the wall beside your front door becomes your best friend for a second as you check your appearance one last time, fixing any details that need a little ironing out. You grab the door knob, taking a deep breath as you close your eyes for a second. You gather yourself before opening the door, being met face-to-face with sex on legs.

There Leah stands, black suit adorning her figure. Her under shirt is unbuttoned a bit, showing off her collarbones and down towards her chest a bit, a gold chain hanging down from her neck. Her hair looks curled to perfection, framing her face just right as it shows off her little hoop earrings. The rings sitting on her fingers catch your attention last, drawing your gaze as you get lost in studying them.

“My eyes are up here, darling,” it’s let out with that signature Williamson sass.

Your eyes snap up, your lips parting open as you stare at her face— fully caught in mother fucking 4k.

“Oh s-sorry! You just look very, very good,” your cheeks start dusting a light pink color as you avert your gaze from hers.

She chuckles lightly, her hand coming up to cup your cheek. her fingers dip down to lift your chin up, making your eyes meet hers once again. It doesn’t last long though, because yours are darting back down as her tongue goes to lick at her lips. A small smile gracing them as she watches you fawn over her.

“Not as stunning as you look. This dress is absolutely perfect, made just for you, darling,” Her eyes rack up and down your body as she says it.

You’re rendered speechless at her comment, staring at her face as she drinks in your appearance.

“You ready, my love?” It’s said so delicately. Like flowers floating out her mouth as you get lost in the soft melody of her petals. Everything about her is intoxicating, and you’re falling deeper into it the longer she’s near.

“Yeah,” you say it breathlessly. Like your floating away on cloud 9 called Leah Williamson. She got an arm around your waist as she leads you down your apartment elevator. Your heart’s pounding in your ears now. The rhythmic thump, thump, thumping moving downwards as you spiral from the way her rings are freezing cold— burning through the thin mineral of your dress and igniting your skin underneath.

Your brain finally catches up, not even registering you’d left the building until Leah’s guiding you into the back of the all white limousine. A stark contrast to her dark attire for the night. You go to sit on the bench seat, but right as your butt goes to touch it you’re being yanked to the side. A yelp leaves you as you feel hands around your hips, man handling you into her lap as you face her.

“Leah! T-The driver!” Its whisper-shouted out in shock.

“It’s fine— look. No one’s going to bother us,” it’s said against your neck. Her lips brushing against the skin as her breath lights goosebumps up in its wake.

You turn your head to see the partition rolled up. A barrier separating you both from the rest of the world now. You turn your head back to her and she’s impossibly close. Your noses are touching and her hands start sliding up your back as she tugs you closer.

“Can I kiss you, darling?”

Your head starts shaking before your brain catches up, a light laugh sounding out inside the private space.

“Use your words, pretty girl.”

“Y-Yes!”

Then before you know it her lips are pressing against yours. It’s electric and sends a tingling between your legs. Her hands pull you down onto her lap, a moan breaking out between your lip lock. Your clits right against her belt buckle, sending a cold zap through your body as you grind lightly into the pleasure.

Her hands start sliding your dress up to your hips. The cold air hits you like a ton of bricks, a shiver rocking through you. You hear Leah let out a groan before one of her hands comes down onto your ass.

“No panties, baby? You knew we’d end up like this, huh?”

“I-I just didn’t want pantyl-lines!” you get out between moans.

Her lips consume yours ones again as you feel the vibrations from her laugh. One of her hands runs down from your ass to your pussy. Her fingers rubbing up and down your slit as you drench her two digits teasing you. They start circling around your opening as she talks.

“Sure, darling. You keep telling yourself that, but we both know you always end up like this with me around,” and then she’s slipping those two fingers inside of you.

A wicked smirk spreads across her face as you start riding her fingers in time with her thrusts. Her other hand comes up to pull your boobs out, her fingers pinching at your nipples as you whine out into the back of the limo.

She loves getting you like this, so wrecked for her. You’re usually so prime and proper, but something inside of Leah craves to break that facade. Always carrying yourself with a more innocent aura compared to her own. She loves breaking that in private— for her eyes only…except for when she leaves behind some marks. Oops.