#police au prompt

[madmanwonder]

Prompt

Crossover Fusion: Law And Crime: Police Officer & Thief AU

When JNPR Thieves comes to the museum to get some art... Seras is ready to deal with them. All of them... except Jaune who uses this opportunity to distract her with his magic. In fact he wants them to make out in the broom closet while his teammates are taking the art away. Seras shouldn't... but can she truly say no to Jaune when he continues to pull at her heartstrings like that?

(2-Koma) (Flirting) (Make Out) (Moral Degradation)

"Freeze dirtbag!" Jaune smiled under his mask as he turned around to look at the drop-dead gorgerous vampire girl who was aiming her giant rifle at him, glowing red eyes set in a stern glare. "Put your hands in the air or face the firm hand of justice-"

"You look beautiful under the moonlight, My Seras~"

X-xx-X

"MMmm~!" Seras moaned into the lips of Jaune Arc, leader of thieving group "Team JNPR (Juniper)", her hands on his firm chiseled chest, his large, powerful and flexible hands on her wide child-bearing hips.

She knew that Mr.Arc was distracting her while the rest of his team was stealing away the priceless arts in the museum...but she cannot bring herself to care or stop them.

[therealmofamorus]

Prompt

Alpha Male Stud: Thief and Police Officer

Ying is on patrol to protect a jewelry store, when Jaune sneaks in because he wanted to see her and have sex. She wants to take this serious since it is her job, but his smoothness wins her over, and not like anyone will steal while they are fucking. But that is exactly what happens, because while Jaune is fucking Ying in the restroom, his group is jacking the place. All while the oblivious Ying calls herself a bad cop for her love, not realizing how true that is.

Manipulation; 2-Koma; Sex

Ying Branwen is on patrol to protect a jewelry store rumored to be the next hit of the mysterious phantom thief who been hitting every single jewelry store in Vale.

Sensing a presence in the store, Ying took out her gun and aim it to the direction of the presence...only to see Jaune Arc standing by the door, a smile on his cute boyish face.

Ying: Jaune? What the fuck are you doing here?

Jaune: *Charming* I came to see my Raven Princess...and to have sex with you~

The lean, but brawny and broad-shouldered blonde move closer to the dark-haired, amber-eyed beauty who face turn into nice shade of red.

Ying: *Flustered* I-I can't have sex with you now. I'm on the job now and I need my full attention on-

X—xx—X

CLAP! SMACK! CLAP! SMACK! CLAP! SMACK! CLAP! SMACK!

Ying: -COCK

Ying yelped as her amber eyes rolled deep into her eyelids as Jaune fuck her hard and fast with relentless determination and pinpoint precision. His hard, rough hands gripped her wide child-bearing hips in a tight, inescapable grip.

CLAP! SMACK! CLAP! SMACK! CLAP! SMACK! CLAP! SMACK!

Ying: Fuck! You are making this bad cop fuckin' cumming!

She was aware that she was neglecting to do her job in protecting the jewelry store from the skilled phantom thief, that she fall to quick to the smooth charm of her skilled lover...but she can take a little break in her job and indulged her with him.

Not like anyone going to steal anything right now...while she said those words and getting her dicking, Jaune crew was robbing the place blind.

[impyssadobsessions]

OKAY IDEA Danny is a police officer and works with Dick Grayson in Bludhaven. He's new to the force and often called rookie but turns out to be really good at his job. Him and Dick get along same time think the other is a little cocky until they both get to fight along side each other as like some rogues that nightwing usually fought is doing something while they're on duty. (just the two of them got stuck in a warehouse while outside cops are still trying to bust in (probably some rubble fell blocking away or something)) Danny showing off martial art skills and is like "What. My mom is a black belt." Dick does something just as impressive if not more, grinning, "My dad is too." Just them joking around. They almost have everything under control, when Danny's ghost senses activate. Dick gets hit by an ectoblast that slams him into the wall. His vision blurs as he can hear a voice taunting Danny, and Danny growling. bright lights and then he knocks out. He has a brief moment of being awake as backup comes to his aid. He learns that a new meta broke in and Danny was missing. He passes back out.. He wakes up in the hospital, worried about Danny, cursing himself. He's a vigilante.. how could he- in comes danny with a bag of fast food and balloons. "Figured I get you something you rather eat then some flowers. : D Nice to see you breathing, dick-" Dick asks about what happens but notices Danny being flighty and vague. "Oh yeah, meta kidnapped me and took me to some highrise building. Luckily nightwing came by and took care of it. Really was quite a trip. If it wasn't for the terrifying fight for my life thing, I say I wouldn't mind flying like that again." Dick cracks a smile, though inside his head he has way more questions than answers. But he cant call Danny out on any of it. So he does what bats do best.. he starts to investigate. -bad at explaining but basically dick catches danny in a lie and starts to piece together every odd thing danny ever mentioned about himself. -even better if they're partners LOL

-Also imagine danny has used his powers to keep himself or others from being shot.. plus has one of the best aim in the force, second to/on par with dick.

[obsessedwithstarwars]

A series of murders have been taking place in Blüdhaven. (Is that how you spell it?)

BPD are at their limits. They call in a specialist. An unregistered meta??? woman who has very specific demands that the police department must follow to the letter.

She is somewhat a ghost story (haha) throughout the states. When a department needs help, her services are found in a letter on the chief’s desk, along with specific criteria for her offer of help. If they don’t meet her demands, she vanishes, leaving chaos and destruction in her wake. She has been considered dead many times due to the damages. But she’s always appeared a few weeks later, helping another department in a different state and leaving the solved case of the one she abruptly left.

Her demands are this: All windows closed and blindfolds down.

No electronics. If they can’t be moved, then they must be disabled. If that can’t happen, then the police department must leave a green flag on their station.

She will only visit under cover of night.

They will know her by the DP insignia on the black armor she wears. Her red and blue hair (that almost looks like it’s floating?!) will be the only defining feature aside from glowing green eyes. The rest of her face will be covered. If anyone asks, they did not see anything discernable about her.

There is only one police officer she will share information to. He or she will be standing outside.

This officer will wear a belt she brings and it will remain as part of his or her uniform.

No questions.

They will take all of the credit and never mention her or her description to anyone in white.

Her help will not be put in the case files. There must be no evidence that she was there.

After she leaves, they will discover a letter for an Agent O. He comes within two days. He’s always furious after reading it and practically interrogates the officer who stood outside the door. She recommends that this officer immediately go on vacation for a week.

The police departments she has worked with (that have cooperated with her demands) all claim she was a godsend. Her methods were unconventional but effective. Ignore the one sided conversations she has at the crime scene and she’s the perfect specialist. Their only issue is that she will not work with the same department twice so they’ve had to get creative and send the officer she worked with to another department (small rural town) to solve another cold case for them.

She can somehow figure out exactly what happened to each victim without seeing the body or the case file and tell the police departments the exact description of the suspect just by having a one sided conversation at the scene of the crime. It’s almost like someone is answering her, but no one ever does. If no body was discovered, she can tell you exactly where it is.

AKA Jazz figured out she can communicate with weak ghosts. As a liminal, she has been able to solve many cold cases just by speaking to the victims.

Dick Grayson is assigned as her designated officer. Chaos ensues because of course it does.

Extra thought: What if the GIW use a liminal serial killer (could be in Blüdhaven or Gotham) to draw Jazz out? Are they paying the killer? Forcing someone to kill? SO MANY HORRIBLE POSSIBILITIES!

[lurafita]

Just had a Brooklyn 99 inspired thought about Holt coded (not as severe and a bit younger) police captain Alec taking over a new precinct. And the sqaud (clary, Simon, maia, jace,...) being completely bowled over when they meet their stoic captain's colorful sparkly husband for the first time 😂

[salmonight]

'Space Police Adopts Feral Alien Child AU'

By @dissociativecatmeme on Batpham server. I could not miss drawing him. This au is simply gold sooooo am gonna list what we have so far (the ones i liked that is-)

After escaping the GIW by flying into the GIW's own portal Danny flies aimlessly in search of the far frozen to heal and rest. With a fresh wound on his throat and wearing the GIW's patented power suppression cuffs, Danny can't even speak let alone use most of his powers.

He can't even dodge as a natural portal opens right on top of him spitting him out in the void of space!

Shocked and stunned he can barely react when a man in a green suit flies up to meet him asking him if he needs help.

Danny is basically that stray cat you are trying to lure home with food and affection but they don't want to be inside.

Danny doesn't want to stay on earth the second he realizes staying in space is an option.

If he loses track of his physical body due to focusing on healing he can have more starry features

Like freckles that mirror the constellations he's currently interested in, Wispy hair that turns to mist at the very ends, His tail is comet like.

(I did not rly follow it exactly but nyeh *shrug*)

^ Without scars ^

GL "it would help with your recovery to be on a planet! heck even just a space station please kid I'm begging you"

Danny sheds his corporal form "S P A C E"

GL looks at Batman "How do I parent a feral child, all you robins were feral you gotta give me some advice"

Batman "hm"

--------

also, the GIW having a portal means yes they can follow once they local the signal from Danny's cuffs

They're hunting him and the GLs think "aw fuck these are poachers"

also, the GIW having a portal means yes they can follow once they local the signal from Danny's cuffs

Danny would be concerned, but these lanterns he found are pretty good at catching and keeping the guys in white at bay.

it is very amusing to watch them spout their backing of american laws in the middle of space where they are so far from their juristiction

^ With Scars & cuffs ^

Danny reverting to baby man communication mode and just

*chomp*

One of the Guardians of Oa is like "WTF is that?"

The lantern, holding Danny up simba style "A baby!"

"A baby what?"

***"god"***

(Freshly tried this new brush and have to say am absolutely in love with it!!)

[camilletea]

Pls, I need more time travel content of Conan ft. The Wild Police Squad. I feel like I wrote too many scenario drafts in my head and I can't get them out (so maybe I'll just babble it all here-).

The scenarios playing in my head are more on hurt/comfort centered, because in one idea, only Akai and Conan traveled back - few months before Hagi's death. And their whole motive aside from ending the BO is making sure that ALL of Rei's friends stay alive.

For Akai, maybe it's because he felt like it was the least he could do (and definitely double the effort to make sure Scotch lives).

For Conan, it's because he knows nobody deserves to be alone. Especially, not Rei.

Then comes the outsider's POV with the squad being like: "idk this kid, but it feels like he's heaven sent; and if anything happens to him, we'll wage war"

and if anyone asks why not the 'kill-others-and-then-myself' line, they will reply: "It feels like we'd be disappointing the kid if we do that, and something tells us we don't want that to happen."

And then when it's the timeline for Scotch's supposed death, Akai did the most idiot thing that will have Conan lecturing him (that's why he won't tell) - he pointed the gun at himself, with Scotch still holding the trigger.

Of course, naturally, Hiro was frozen not for the fact that Rye had a grip on the revolver's cylinder, but because killing Rye was one thing he couldn't do. Not after finding out he's FBI. Not when Rye has a son waiting for him.

Now, this is not where the hilarious misunderstanding occured, but rather during their recon (the flashback of Masumi meeting Scotch). Let's say after the mission, they wondered why Rye still stuck around the train station, so they (him and Rei) followed out of curiousity and saw a young teen, around the age of the girl, hug the long-haired sniper with the said sniper twirling the boy around. (They basically mistook Shinichi as Akai's son, yeah).

I'm just stopping things here cuz I don't think I can be cohesive enough as it goes on. It's probably not the end of my time travel musings, though.

[joverflowers]

Do I dazzle you?

[theprofessionalpromptmaker]

National Citizens Against Police Harassment/Police Against Citizen Harassment Day & Trial Technology Day & National Gun Violence Awareness Day

Person A is creating a special technology to make guns ‘safer’, by only allowing them to shoot at predetermined targets using AI facial recognition software of a criminal database for guns issued for the police. But when the AI appears to get hacked, Person A struggles to fix the issue and quickly realizes that the AI has become sentient and has it’s own ideas about who should live and who should die. Person B is an activist who was strongly opposed to the idea and who Person A tries to convince to help them fix the issue - but Person B finds themself siding with the AI’s goals.

[corkinavoid]

| welcome to my blog |

You can find my full-written works on ao3 under the name corkinavoid or click this link.

| tags |

#cork prompts is for all my ideas, prompts, ficlets, big and small

#cork adds is for my additions to someone else's posts, usually including reblogs

#cork writes is for everything concerning my writing, rants, tips, and all things relevant

#cork writes fantasy is a tag specifically for my fic 'Fiance to a Star', updates, lore drops, moodboards, and soundtracks

#cork likes is for reblogs, mostly any pretty art I find

#cork art is for anything I draw, which is rather rare

#cork game is for a writing game I play that you can participate in here (currently on pause).

You can use all of my prompts how you see fit as long as you link/tag/credit me.

Other than that, here's some fun facts about me:

• neurodivergent but not a minor

• English is not my first language

• my favorite ships are Dead Tired and Anger Management, and I'm also deeply in love with Al Ghul Twins trope

| masterpost |

I'm only linking my series here, not all prompts.

Changeling AU: [part 1], [part 2], [part 3], [part 4], [part 5], [a fic "Danny! Wait, who's Danny?"], [part 6], [part 7]

Haunted Family AU: [part 1], [a fic "It takes three days to get adopted"], [a fic "A cat walks by herself, but so does a ghost"], [a fic "A new family, an old family, and a never ever happening family walk into a gala"], [part 5]

Mercenary Danny AU: [part 1], [a fic "I'll pay you ten times"], [a fic "I want to hire you"], [a fic "I'm asking you out"]

Multiverse Police/Good!GIW: [part 1], [part 2], [side notes], [part 3], [another part 1], [another part 2]

Fantasy Magic School AU: [part 1], [a fic 'Fiance to a Star']

Fantasy Royal Fae AU: [part 1], [a fic 'Married to Winter']

Masters Mansion/Socialite Danny: [inspo], [part 1], [part 2], [part 3], [a fic 'Coronation'], [a fic 'There Are No Living Here']

John Constantine's Ghost Kids: [part 1], [part 2]

All the al Ghul Twins related posts: [one], [two], [three], [four], [five], [six], [seven]

Ring of Engage: [part 1], [part 2], [part 3], [part 4]

Hogwarts AU: [part 1], [part 2], [part 3], [part 4], [part 5], [part 6], [part 7]

[madmanwonder]

Prompt

Police Officer & Mafia AU

Dona Pacifica and Police Officer Dipper. What kind of relationship does these two have?

Relationship Status Meme

--Relationship Status: Public Enemy/Secret Relationship--

In public Dona Pacifica Northerwest and Police Officer Dipper Pines are sworn enemies with Dipper determined to put her behind bars while Pacifica is determined to spread her influences across the criminal underworld...while hiding the fact they are lovers

[puppetmaster13u]

You get exactly what I’m thinking lol!  Let Diana take him to her favorite ice cream shop(s) since clearly Marvel hasn’t gotten good icecream before!  Let Superman help him with “schoolwork” that’s more like a list of questions about ‘human adults and children’ (honestly J’onn might have his own list too) Let Bruce still agonize on if he can adopt Marvel because like?? Technically a child but also not?? Wait he doesn’t legally exist? Oh he can help with that- Let them gently explain things instead of just assuming the Cap instantly knows Let Hal have to explain why they can’t just let the tigers out of the zoo, Marvel, Billy, whatever name you’re going by right now, that’s dangerous for squishy human beings-

When the league finds out that Captain Marvel is a kid, why doesn't Billy just, do a bit of a half lie?

Oh yeah technically I (Marvel) came into being like 3 years ago at the rock of eternity, I usually use this form to go around as a human.

He doesn't mention that the 10 to 12 year old is his real form, and doesn't correct the league when they assume that Marvel came into being a full adult, not unlike Athena. And wait, didn't Zeus have shapeshifting abilities? Hm....

Billy is honestly very shocked that this is somehow working?? The league thinks he's an adult still, just uses younger form to try and figure out how humans work and have a childhood??

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Someday my prince will come

Written for day 30 of the @steddieholidaydrabbles and the 12 Days of Christmas bonus card of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Sing & Movies

Rated: G

Tags: Post-Vecna; Pre-Steddie; Everybody lives; Injured Eddie; Hospitals; Eddie has a crush on Steve; Accidental love confessions

Notes: I wrote this, then googled the release date of the VHS and realized it didn't come out until 1994. Shut up, this is an AU now. 🤣

A high-pitched trill pierces through Steve’s foggy mind. He jerks awake and almost topples from his chair, hands grasping for his nail bat, for his ax, for anything. It’s the goddamn bats again, or police sirens, come to take Eddie away. He won’t let them, they’ll need to kill him before-

It’s not the bats or the police. 

Someone is singing.  

The realisation leaves him floundering and confused, even as the adrenaline slowly seeps from his body. Why is there a random woman singing operas in Eddie’s hospital room in the middle of the night? 

It takes him a few seconds until he makes out the source of the music: the television set in the corner of the room. 

The hospital doesn’t have video recorders, usually, but it quickly turned out that Eddie liked having noise and lights around, even during the first few days, when they weren’t sure he’d ever wake up. They tried the local stations at first, but the news are still full of Eddie’s face and murder allegations, and Robin needed to pry the remote from Steve’s fist before he could crush it. So Dustin brought in the video recorder, and everybody pitched in with their favorite movies, so that the hospital room never needed to be quiet. 

Right now, Snow White is singing to the seven dwarfs about how her prince will come someday. 

Who the hell picked that kitschy shit?

Steve cringes as she hits another ear-piercing note and turns to the nightstand to find the remote. 

And that’s when he sees that Eddie is awake and watching the screen. His pupils are large and unfocussed, but he’s smiling. It’s small and hesitant - a mere ghost of the bright, bold thing from before - but it’s the first smile Steve has seen on him since they brought him out of the coma. 

The song continues.

“I love this one,” Eddie says after a second or two. “We have it at home.” 

“Oh,” Steve says, realization slowly trickling in. This probably is the very copy Eddie is talking about. Wayne must’ve brought it. Must’ve dug through the rubble and debris that used to be his home to unearth this tape for his nephew. 

Eddie just keeps watching the movie and humming along with the song. It comes out raspy through his shredded throat.

“Haven’t watched it in a long while,” he whispers. “Thought I was too grown up for it. And ‘sides, fairytales never come true, right? No Prince Charming for me.” 

“Eddie,” Steve says before he can stop himself. The hand that was just reaching for the remote grasps for Eddie’s fingers instead. Eddie’s eyes shift over to him and that smile goes a little wider. It makes one of his dimples appear. 

“But now you're here,” he says. His voice is getting slurred from using it so much. “What took you so long, huh?”

Steve blinks. Oh God, is Eddie mistaking him for the stupid prince from the stupid movie? He looks a little bit like him, he guesses - if you’re high on pain meds and stuck in a dark hospital room, that is. He opens his mouth to tell him the truth, but Eddie tilts his head in the pillows, eyes stupidly large and dark, and the words die on his tongue.

“Sorry,” he shrugs, ignoring the red-hot blush that’s rapidly overtaking his face. “Got a bit delayed. You know how it is.” 

“‘s okay,” Eddie nods graciously, then frowns. “Where’s your horse? ‘s it not allowed in the hospital?” 

Steve quickly disguises his snort of laughter as a cough. Eddie’s brow wrinkles. 

“Um, yeah,” he says. “Had to leave it outside in the parking lot. Stupid hospital rules, right?” 

“Right,” Eddie agrees, and tries to lean in for a conspirational whisper. He’s still too weak, so Steve ends up bending down until his ear is nearly at his lips. “This place sucks. Stupid nurses won’t even let me have a smoke, can you believe it?” 

They both laugh, only that Eddie’s turns into a cough real quick. 

“Don’t worry,” Steve says, squeezing his fingers gently. “We’ll get you out of here in no time. You can stay at my place for a bit, I have it all figured out.”

Eddie freezes. 

“Oh,” he says, and suddenly he sounds all dejected and fearful. “That’s right. I need to’ tell ya somethin’.”

“Huh?” Steve says, resisting the urge to sweep a stray curl out of Eddie’s face. “What’s that?” 

Eddie sighs. It turns into a yawn halfway through. “You took so long to show up and … I wanted t’ wait for you, I really did, but … There’s someone else. Sorry.” 

Steve feels his frown melt into a smile, even as his heart gives a little tug. 

“Hey, that’s okay,” he says. “Are they good to you?”

Eddie bobs his head up and down, motions jerky and uncoordinated. Steve can tell he’s about to fall back asleep. 

“He’s brilliant, man. S’much more than I gave’m credit for. Kind and generous and brave and strong. Carried me outta that shithole all by ‘mself. And the way he tore that bat apart with his teeth? Holy moooh-... “ He yawns again, long and drawn-out. “-ley.” 

Steve doesn’t say anything. He thinks Snow White has finished her song by now, but he can’t be sure. The rush of his own blood in his ears is too loud. 

“Eddie, I-” he croaks after what seems like an eternity, but the only reply he gets is a long, hearty snore.

It’s okay, he guesses, brushing Eddie’s hair from his face before leaning back in his chair and focussing back on the movie. He’ll tell him some other time, when he’s feeling better and more clear in the head. It may still take a while, but until then, he can be patient. 

He’ll make it worth the wait for both of them. 

More holiday drabbles

More Steddie bingo

[lurafita]

Don't mind me while I envision mundane au hacker Magnus.

Jace: "-anyway, this thing has taken over our computers and we can't access our files. Can you crack it?"

Magnus, sitting in front of the computer: "Oh, you sexy little thing."

Jace: "I'm flattered, but I'm straight."

Magnus: "I'm clearly talking about the code, Blondie."

Alec: "But you can get rid of it, right?"

Magnus: "Of course. How would you feel about going on a date with me after this, Handsome?"

Jace: "Are we supposed to not comment on you wanting to date a malicious software?"

Magnus, rolling his eyes: "I couldn't have been more obivously talking to your pretty (friend/brother/partner/boss)" - depending on circumstances

Alec: blushing and clearly pleased

.

[ddodol]

ddodol's kinktober ²⁰²⁴ — riize

series ⭑.ᐟ synopsis ⭑.ᐟ just unleashing my freak one day at a time. new week starts every tuesday! content warning ⭑.ᐟ smut! minors dni!, au, an anthology, some freaky stuff idk.

    ╔══════════════════════════════════╗     ║ ░░░░░░ freaktober ░░ ddlz ░░░░░░ ║     ╟────┬────┬────┬────┬────┬────┬────╢     ║L.CY│O.SR│S.ES│J.SC│P.WB│H.SH│L.SH║     ╟────┼────┼────┼────┼────┼────┼────╢     ║ ░░ │ 01 │ 02*│ 03 │ 04 │ 05*│ 06 ║     ╟────┼────┼────┼────┼────┼────┼────╢     ║ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 ║     ╟────┼────┼────┼────┼────┼────┼────╢     ║ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 ║     ╟────┼────┼────┼────┼────┼────┼────╢     ║ 21 │ 22 │ 23 │ 24 │ 25 │ 26 │ 27 ║     ╟────┼────┼────┼────┼────┼────┼────╢     ║ 28 │ 29 │ 30 │ 31 │ ░░ │ ░░ │ ░░ ║     ╚════╧════╧════╧════╧════╧════╧════╝ *an exception because it's hani's birthday ! eunseok's and seunghan's are switched for the first week!

week one — feels prettier when i'm a mess .ᐟ

prompts ⭑.ᐟ spanking/impact play, sex toys, restraints/handcuffs, bondage/shibari, edging, cosplay, ass play/anal.

day one ⭑.ᐟ spanking / impact play with shotaro.

day two ⭑.ᐟ edging with seunghan. (happy birthday pookie)

day three ⭑.ᐟ restraints / handcuffs with sungchan.

day four ⭑.ᐟ bondage / shibari with wonbin.

day five ⭑.ᐟ sex toys with eunseok.

day six ⭑.ᐟ cosplay with sohee.

day seven ⭑.ᐟ ass play / anal with anton.

week two — anywhere but home .ᐟ

prompts ⭑.ᐟ airport, parent's house, gym, haunted house, museum, elevator, pool/shower.

day eight ⭑.ᐟ @ the airport with shotaro.

day nine ⭑.ᐟ @ your parent's house with eunseok.

day ten ⭑.ᐟ @ the gym with sungchan.

day eleven ⭑.ᐟ @ the haunted house with wonbin.

day twelve ⭑.ᐟ @ the museum with seunghan.

day thirteen ⭑.ᐟ @ the elevator with sohee.

day fourteen ⭑.ᐟ @ the pool / shower with anton.

week three — get a little halloween head like ooh .ᐟ

prompts ⭑.ᐟ angel/devil, mummy, beast, witch, black cat, vampire, police officer.   *halloween party at taro's!

day fifteen ⭑.ᐟ going as an angel / a devil with shotaro.

day sixteen ⭑.ᐟ going as a mummy with eunseok.

day seventeen ⭑.ᐟ going as a beast with sungchan.

day eighteen ⭑.ᐟ going as a witch with wonbin.

day nineteen ⭑.ᐟ going as a black cat with seunghan.

day twenty ⭑.ᐟ going as a vampire with sohee.

day twenty-one ⭑.ᐟ going as a swat officer with anton.

week four — i'm usually so unproblematic .ᐟ

prompts ⭑.ᐟ getting caught, inexperienced, forced proximity, corruption, secret relationship, distraction, betting/dare.

day twenty-two ⭑.ᐟ getting caught with shotaro.

day twenty-three ⭑.ᐟ inexperienced with eunseok.

day twenty-four ⭑.ᐟ forced proximity with sungchan.

day twenty-five ⭑.ᐟ corruption with wonbin.

day twenty-six ⭑.ᐟ secret relationship with seunghan.

day twenty- seven ⭑.ᐟ distraction with sohee.

day twenty-eight ⭑.ᐟ betting / dare with anton.

week five — i'm feeling kinda freaky .ᐟ

wildcard ⭑.ᐟ you'll see!

[fairytsuk1]

get on your knees | (s)

apart of maki's kinktober: the 2024 anthology

prompt: creampie, praise/degradation, secretary!au

pairing: shota aizawa x reader

words: 6.4k

warnings: unprofessionalism, boss/secretary relationship, dom/sub themes, impact play, degradation and praise, strangers to lovers, creampie, body worship

"Yep. Yep, thank you. Call us again if you need further help. Our way is the right way. Thank you. Goodbye."

How much longer could you keep this up? Between shrill old ladies desperate for solutions to their self-caused issues and the men who wanted to turn your customer service line into a phone sex hotline, you were running out of both patience and sympathy.

You knew it'd be dull work when you applied. It was in the name: customer service representative. You didn't mind. Dull work meant working as a stocker and meticulously organizing food products. It meant waking up early and chatting with the same group of people over the same brand of weak coffee every day. It could be meaningless; it could be meaningful.

Your temples are rubbed by your fingers, aching for relief, and you wonder if your company is any good with benefits after you've quit.

Real people were missed by you. No more old women and pervy men. You wanted something substantial. Something real, something alive. You decide you need to get outside, away from the phone. Your poised, fake voice was due for a break.

Your lunch is subbed for an afternoon walk. The same route you always take, the same things you pass by like always. It's all the same. Trees bend and sway under the will of the wind, and you find yourself looking down at the ground. Did you always do that?

The coffee shop is bustling, the bookstore is closed, and the park is full of screaming, laughter, and joy. The police station looks lifeless as always, but the local lawyer's office is… open, shining and bright, and strangely standing out. The actual building is cream and desert colors, yet its sign has bright bulbs exclaiming help wanted.

In tiny font under the main signage, you read "secretary."

It would be dull work. Lawyer jargon, a hot lawyer who you hear from around town is to die for. Like smooth chocolate. Your sneakers pad on the ground before you're even aware of it, carrying you past the threshold of oak doors into the domain of law.

Inside, it's dark and stormy. It is entirely opposite to the outside, making your head spin. It's quiet, and your footsteps echo as you traverse the halls looking for the lawyer. There's no one at the secretary's desk, and you can't help the daunting hand that runs over its ridges as you pass by.

Another oak door sits menacingly ajar. You press forward. Your heart stutters in your chest, butterflies hatching as you see him sitting cleanly, sexy and firm.

There he is. He's got inky black hair pulled neatly into a low bun; your breath catches in your throat when stormy dark eyes pull up from paperwork to you. You feel so exposed, so on display, as you fidget and murmur, "Hello."

He's quick to the chase, "Are you here for the secretary job?"

The lawyer's eyes scan yours, and you find yourself nodding; too afraid to speak further. His eyes then trail over your form, and you wonder if your work-from-home outfit was too casual. How would you have even known you'd have encountered this icy gentleman during your typical stroll?

Aizawa is grateful that the prettiest candidate will come in on his break. He could forgo lunch for you; he'd be fine having that sweet pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

"Hm. Resume?"

Your empty hands are glaringly obvious. Your purse hangs heavy and resumeless on your shoulder.

"I, I don't have–I didn't bring one, I mean."

"Did you see the ad in the paper?"

"No. I was walking and saw the lit-up sign."

"... I see," he drawls, still eyeing you before motioning to the seat in front of him.

Sinking into the cushion, you try to look presentable as you cross your feet–the rip of your stocking just barely visible from where he sits at his woodsy desk. He stares at you before asking.

"What talents do you have?"

"I'm a very hard worker," you pitch softly. "I won several typing awards in school."

He says nothing to that; maybe you've said or done the wrong thing. His hand rubs at the stubble on his chin, and your throat dries up at the various rings decorating his long, pale fingers. You would give anything to feel that scruff between your thighs, nails leaving indents as he plants kiss after kiss up your leg.

"It's very, very dull work. Perhaps too dull for you."

It's an opening. A job you can practically taste on the tip of your tongue.

"I don't mind," you add. "I'll do anything."

The terse stare you both share leaves you sweating. What were the chances: no resume, lack of secretary experience, and you wore ripped stockings. He licks his lips, eyes flickering up and down before nodding to the side.

"Please make me a coffee. Not too much sugar."

You're up in a heartbeat as you grab his half-empty cup. Suddenly, it's obvious you don't know anything about the building you're in as you head to the first door: "It's not that one."

The second one is a bust, and the third opens you up to his quaint office kitchen. Coffee was easy! Sure, you spilled a few coffee grounds and milk. Maybe you struggled with the machine as it brewed its ground beans. In the end, the mug sits hot and ready on his desk. You're ready for him to say it's perfect. That he'll reward you with a black coffee-tinged kiss.

"Too much sugar," he grimaces a bit. "Be here tomorrow at eight a.m."

You were in the parking lot by seven.

He never reveals too much to you. You still don't know so many basic things, even though you know how he likes his coffee, and you've seen how he does push-ups in his office when he's stressed. You see everything and nothing. It's agonizing.

The work is dull. You like it. It's typing letters, queries, and correspondence; it's all stuff Aizawa could be doing but chooses you to do. It makes you feel special in a sick way. You're stumbling from a bump in the carpet as you set a stack of papers on his desk. There is one problem, though.

"I alphabetized all the clients, sir," you say firmly.

"Thank you," he always says your name in that smooth drawl that leaves you drooling.

You're waiting. Waiting for those two words or even a glance up at you. He only sips his steaming coffee and peruses through the paper like you're not even there.

"Is there something you need?"

There was just one problem.

"No, sir," you say. "Sorry."

He never praised you. Aizawa hums, and you're turning on your heel. That took forever to do, and all he could say was, "Thank you." Was it wrong to ask for praise from your boss? The deep boom of his voice shakes you from your thoughts as he calls out after you.

You return like a dog, face alight and waiting. A stir in his gut has Aizawa hot at the back of his neck.

"That outfit… it's sloppy. You represent me. Your hair has flyaways, you leave crumbs everywhere, and you're messy."

Your boss stands and takes measured steps toward you. You're shrinking like prey under his gaze as he jabs at your faults.

"You make typos. You spill coffee grounds when you make my coffee." he's in front of you now, looking down and so close you can feel his breath. "You wear ripped stockings."

"I-I—"

"Don't say anything. Just look, and listen to me."

He is oh so pleased when you nod obediently. What a good girl.

"You represent me. You are the first person clients see when they come seeking my legal counsel. You could put in a little more effort, right?"

You're unsure of an answer. Silence or confirmation? Your knees knock together, "yes, I could."

There's a beat of silence. It seems so loud in the room.

"Good."

You wanted to sink to your knees then and there with an open mouth. An open throat. Aizawa sighs, seemingly relieved, as two big hands clasp onto your shoulders.

"Go home. Take the long way. Look at the sky and the trees and the stray cats. Pet one," he murmurs, and his fingers flick your chin. "Go and enjoy."

Just like that, he's edging away from you like he'd never gotten so close in the first place. Your heart stirs confusedly in your chest, battered from the pointed insults but feeling like they've freed you from any preconceived notions you had regarding your boss and you.

He thought you were good.

It was as if you'd never taken a walk before. Things were bright and so fruitful that there was a natural skip in your step as you brought yourself past the trees, the fountain made of marble with an angel sitting pretty and the people out and about. That joy carried you all the way home. You couldn't get how he looked at you out of his head as you flung yourself upon the bed.

You try practicing how you'd thank him, but it all comes out stilted. Unsure. Who was Mr. Aizawa? Did he like being thanked? You knew what you liked. Your hand brushes against the edge of your underwear as you recall how he'd murmured, "Good."

It just feels right to rub your clit and imagine your boss doing it for you with his hands coated in silvery rings. It'd be a mix of hot and cold as he rubbed at your pussy, "My, you're so wet for me. You really are so naughty."

Your hand twisted tight circles as you ground against your palm, face hot and panting into the sheets as you mewled for Aizawa. The syllables were foreign on your tongue, but you find yourself cumming with a cry of Shota!

After that, it was impossible to stay professional for very long.

Since those harsh criticisms, you'd started putting your all into the little things. New stockings on sale that highlight the smooth expanse of your leg while tucked into dainty kitten heels. You wiped up your mouth and counters after lunch and coffee. You were representing him.

Aizawa had noticed your preening. It was eerily similar to his cats. You would linger in front of him, waiting for a treat. He sighs, sinking into his chair, lids burning with the idea of you on your knees or bent over in front of him. He has to be careful when that familiar twinge of arousal wakes up more than just his mind. His hand comes to palm over the half-chub, but then your voice is filtering in over the phone.

"Sir? Miss Midnight is here," you murmur, and he grips himself over his slacks with a soft groan.

"Tell her I'm not here."

"I think she knows you're here," you say, eyes flickering between the phone and the woman herself, who flips through a magazine.

"Do not let her come back here. It's an order."

There's a click, and you're gone. You always listen so obediently. It was his favorite thing. Midnight's voice rings out from behind the grand wooden doors, your voice mixing into a beautiful tone of harshness and softness. He can hear how your chair scratches against the floor as you stand, guarding his office protectively.

"I know he's in there!"

"He is not," and you're puffing your chest out with a confidence that you're unsure of its origin. "You must come back another time."

Aizawa pants into the open air at your sweet little voice, trying to be commanding. He has to grip his base so he doesn't spill his load all over his black slacks. It grows quiet, and he knows the knock of your hands from memory.

"Come in."

You're hesitant, hands coming in front of you to fidget before you're forcing your hands by your sides. The pressure of Aizawa's presence has a hold over you that you can't shake. "She left. She said she'd be back tomorrow."

Lecherous eyes take in the loosening of his tie and how he relaxes instantly at the relief. He looks warm, if a bit debauched.

"I see," and he's staring at the ceiling before lazily trailing his eyes back down to your body. "Come here."

Soft feet pad even closer. You're not sure if you're even breathing.

"Thank you for listening. You are good at what you do.

"Thank you, sir."

He lets the stillness linger in the air, watching how you step even closer. You wanted a treat.

"Another thing. Where did you buy that skirt?"

"... At the department store."

His mouth flattens, and he hums, reaching into his wallet. " It's nice. Buy yourself something off the rack, not from the sale section."

Your face burns bright as he slides the cash over. This feels strangely good. You knew it was wrong, but you just couldn't help yourself. It was a substantial amount—too much for a boss to give to his secretary.

"Am I… allowed to take that?"

Aizawa smirks coolly, "I just gave you permission to."

The implication of his words leaves your legs crossing, much to your boss's amusement. He tells you to take the day off, and he's so soft this time. No harsh criticisms. All he wants to do is take care of you; the stack of money is comforting as a couple hundred sits heavy in your bag.

You buy a cute two-piece suit. It accentuates your curves nicely, and you can't help but wonder if Aizawa would feel the same. Adding a few accessories you don't think he'd mind, a gold choker glints at you, and you look around before shoving it to the bottom of your shopping bag.

He doesn't even comment on it. Of course, he doesn't. Your fingers click the keys with a bit more anger than normal. Who gives you money to buy an outfit and then doesn't even compliment you? Your boss, that's who. Fingers rip the written communication from the typewriter with a huff.

You're about to go to him, but he's coming to you first. Your breath stutters in your throat at how his eyes pierce you with every step. Aizawa stops and flicks the paper onto your desk with narrowed eyes, "can you tell me what this word says?"

"I-Indelible."

"And this one?"

He points to another word circled in red and your shy eyes are batting up at him, "rash…"

"So I didn't hire an illiterate typer, that's good. But then that means there must be a reasonable explanation for these glaring typos, hm?"

Aizawa's fist bangs on the table as you neglect to respond, "I–no, sir…"

He leans close till you can feel his breath on your lips. You're shaking and unsure if you want to burst into tears or kiss him on the mouth. And then he sees it, his eyes trailing down your body to see the familiar scratch of lines and ripped fabric on your calf. You'd hoped he hadn't noticed, but you can't help the twitch of your lips.

"Come to my office," Aizawa says shakily, voice intense and full of mirth.

You walk behind him to enter into his domain. Aizawa stares at you, breath labored as he swallows thickly. Neither of you are speaking, but it's clear how his presence dominates yours. It's effortless. It's easy for him.

"Put the paper on the table and your hands on either side."

Your hair sways as you put your hands on his grand office desk. The red marks stare back at you mockingly, your breath stuttering as you feel his presence behind you. He looms, and you can just barely feel how his hips align right behind yours. A deep, primal need wants to arch your back even more than it already is.

"Bend over more."

Was he serious? Your ass brushes against his crotch as you bend farther, with your pencil skirt rising higher. Your upper thigh is exposed to cool air, Aizawa's rough hands brushing against the soft skin. His thumb just barely brushes your panties, and you're biting back a whimper.

"Read it aloud."

Aizawa bites his lip as you do exactly what he says.

"Dear Mr. Toshinori," and you're cut off by a firm spank on your ass.

Your breath stops in your throat as you turn your head in disbelief. Aizawa says nothing, and does nothing, maintaining eye contact as he swats your plump butt again. It hurts and your eyes water. Something inside you tells you this is wrong, but it's overwhelmed by the wave of it feeling so right.

"Go on."

A sniffle escapes you, humiliation and pleasure mixing into a twisted thread of satisfaction, "the effort you've put into this case has been indelible–"

Another firm smack that leaves a gasping moan escaping you. You can hear his labored breaths mingle with your needy ones as he lays smack after smack against your aching bottom. Your whimpers come out more easily with each hit. Your eyes blur with tears that drip onto the crisp paper, blurring the letters you'd so carelessly put together. The red of Aizawa's pen seeps into the salty stain, and a cry escapes you.

"We don't want to be rash," another loud smack. "With all my love, Aizawa Shota…"

The two of you are panting, and Aizawa sighs as he presses the bulge in his slacks against the cleft of your sore bottom. He's so hard. You can't help how your hips grind against his, how the two of you play this forbidden song and dance of boundaries a second longer. He stills you with a fond voice.

"Very good," and you could cum with how he says your name. "I expect you to be better the next time around."

A strong hand smooths over the sore skin and fabric of your skirt. He takes care to readjust your clothes. His hands feel incredible with every soothing stroke. Your tears subside within no time, and you wish the moment would last forever.

He doesn't see how your eyes close in relief as a smile graces your lips, "I will, sir."

"Thank you."

You make no mistakes for the rest of the week. You might be the perfect secretary. Aizawa was beginning to reveal himself to you more and more; you were absolutely delighted. If he wanted to overwhelm you with himself, you weren't opposed to submitting to him entirely. You'd let him eat you if he wanted.

It's how your quaint, dull secretary job turns into a game of cat and mouse. Everything is predetermined by him. You crawl to his desk with the written communication tucked between your lips, sidling up next to him as he takes it with a "thank you."

Reveling in it is what keeps you going. It leaves you crawling, kneeling, and purring for "good girl," "thank you," "very nice," and "well done."

This time, you stand beside him like a shining knight while he reads over the newspaper. It's still early morning, only about an hour to your shift before he's straightening up and talking to you without looking at you.

"What do you eat for dinner, sweetheart?"

You can't help but smile every time you hear that tender nickname.

"U-Usually meat and potatoes and a vegetable."

"That's the daily menu?"

"Today I wanted to make mashed potatoes, peas, and meatloaf."

"Hmm," and then his steely eyes are turning and landing right on you.

It's as if a spotlight has shone down directly on you. You fidget on the spot immediately. Aizawa's lips quirked up as if he wanted to laugh, and you mirrored him back; you know he found your flightiness endearing. Cute, even. You'd heard him say so under his breath a few days back.

"I want you to have five peas. A scoop of mashed potatoes and no meatloaf."

You stay silent. He's not done. He smiles warmly, eyes scanning you appreciatively.

"And as much ice cream as you want."

"How did you know I like ice cream?"

He doesn't reply. He'd seen you out and about while he was waiting for his dry cleaning. You'd been happily chatting with friends, a giant cone of flavors on your right, while you gestured with the left. Aizawa hadn't wanted to interrupt you in your natural state. It was a shame, though, considering he couldn't shake your smile and your laugh from his head that entire day.

"I just know."

You make precisely five peas and a heaving bowl of mashed potatoes. The meal is done quickly, but you call him just before eating.

"A scoop of mash, five peas, and as much ice cream as I want."

Aizawa sits comfortably in his living room, wine glass in hand, "good girl."

It's a meal you savor. It's a wine he relishes. It's a simple delicacy, as if you share the meal together, knowing one is thinking about the other. Aizawa and you fall into this routine of codependency. You go where he goes. You eat from his hand and never bite. He offers you more and more. He lets you engorge yourself on him while he feasts himself upon you.

But, things grow different. He stops asking you to get on your knees, and you see him shutting the door behind you more and more. His face looked pained every time, as if he wasn't banishing you away to your secretarial desk. Why is he doing this? Why was he denying his sweetheart?

You listen to the audio of his lulling voice dictating you on what to type. You're not sure if you or the brat inside you insist on making typos, but you know it's the entirety of you that will be held responsible.

You smirked anyway as you delivered the paper to him with a flourish, "This one is finished."

He takes it silently and puts it in the envelope to be sent. You falter a bit and quizzically ask.

"Aren't you going to read it?"

"I'm really busy," he says your name so flatly you almost want to stomp your foot in protest.

Whatever. Quick feet turn, and you're heading off without a second thought. If he didn't want to read it, that was just fine! It wasn't as if you cared. You return to work, and your shift passes by slowly. Then, you hear the static and clearness of Aizawa's firm voice.

"Come to my office."

You're skipping with joy to the door, arms swinging at your sides before you compose yourself in front of the door. You open it, and he's immediately staring dead at you. His eyes are like a flame. Aizawa's voice shakes with restraint as he tells you to come close and bend over.

It's lewd how you drape yourself over his desk. Your hands are poised as you lay them flat against the desk, butt perked and wiggling ever so slightly. If you were a cat, your tail would swish, and maybe Aizawa would go easier on you.

But you're not a cat; Aizawa never goes easy on anyone. Not his clients, not the courtroom, and certainly not you. His rough nails scrape against the soft flesh of your bottom as he tugs your skirt up, and then your panties drop to the floor. You're bare and shaking in front of him, face dark and pressed into the wood you lay on. He gives no tells, your ears straining to hear something, anything.

Aizawa slowly unzips his slacks, and you're panting with neediness on your breath. You can feel how a strong hand easily shifts your hips to the side as if you weigh nothing; he's still silent as a hand grips the base of his cock, and he groans.

You wish so badly to turn and catch him in the act. He spits lewdly and tugs your skirt up higher till your ass is on full display. He grunts, and it's so slick listening to his palm hit his fat balls and work the tip over and over again. A whimper escapes you when he digs his palms into the fat of your ass and grips it for purchase. It feels so heady, and you're forced to listen as Aizawa fucks into his palm.

The wet noises echo, his hand speeding up as he groans your name. A confident thrum leaves you thrusting back, and the choked moan he lets out is downright delicious, "fuckk."

His breath becomes strangled as he works himself. Then, he's letting out a deep yelp, and you're coated in hot white strands of his cum. It soaks into your panties, and your hole clenches around nothing. He's still breathing shakily, his hand tracing the marks he left on you before pulling away entirely. You can smell his cologne when you turn knock-kneed before him.

"That'll be all," he mumbles with ragged pants.

You stare at yourself, awed, in the mirror. The streaks on your panties are visible as you slip a hand past your waistband and hold a hand to your mouth. You cum just like that, in Aizawa's company bathroom, with his cum on your ass.

He doesn't make an appearance for the rest of the shift. You want to knock and ask, "Are you okay?" But, you worry it'd just make things worse.

Meanwhile, Aizawa stares at his desk contemplatively. A letter sits mockingly as he stares at it. The white stain on his slacks mocks him. He keeps trying to rub it out, but it won't budge. This can't go on.

Dear Sweetheart,

This is disgusting. I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm like this.

He crumples it and tosses it off somewhere, sinking into his office chair with an arm draped over his eyes. This was pathetic. It was unseemly. He had to intervene before he got out of control. Aizawa tries to ignore the deep pain within his chest that winces at every thought of separating himself from you.

That was what he told you the next day, "we can't be doing this every day. It's… wrong."

"Why not?"

You're tearful and shaking. Aizawa's heart shatters so suddenly he has to look off to the side, eyes tracing the whistling trees outside the window.

"Why. Not?"

"Because we can't," he hisses in regret at even letting this conversation come to fruition regardless.

Your hands smack against your thighs as you stand and come closer. You never used to go into his bubble, and now you had no problem merging the two of you together, "I love you."

It was the genuine, honest truth. You loved how he told you how many peas to eat when he'd stroke your hair when he first called you sweetheart. You were sure you had started loving him then, some time or another, between the blending of professional boundaries.

"Don't be immature–"

"I'm not leaving.

He gets close, eyes narrowed as you stay rooted on his Persian rug.

"You're fired."

"No, I'm not," your tears spill over your cheeks in fat rivulets. "Don't do this."

Aizawa scoffs, grabbing his coat and huffing, "I'm going for a walk. Don't be here when I get back."

You stay rooted. You don't move an inch, only wiping your face and continuing to stare out his office window. This was the most heartbreak you'd ever felt. Aizawa was the first real man you had met, and he was tearing himself away from you. This job had never been dull from the second you saw him.

He's been gone for so long. Your legs ache, and you wonder if he went home, if he decided to leave you there through the night on trembling feet and shaky breaths. No. He wasn't like that. You'd wait.

The walk did nothing to soothe him. All he could feel was a pull towards you, like an anchor desperate to return home. Each step was heavy, and he turned around halfway to practically run back to the office. Were you still there?

You're still standing with your arms at your sides. You're not crying anymore, your face hard and focused. You're pretty upon his Persian rug, and Aizawa feels downright giddy. The giddy feeling is overshadowed by the thrum of darkness at the reality of the situation. He felt awful, wanting, and overwhelmed with emotions. He had so many emotions he almost couldn't stand it. Almost.

Aizawa sits outside the office door, head in hand. A thread born from sickness and loneliness was watered and tended by you, and he was so afraid.

The two of you stay rooted.

Only when the sun shines before noon the next day does Aizawa open the door. You're turning your head instantly with watery eyes and a grumbling stomach. You knew it, he hadn't left. He'd have never left you alone at this rate. You were his, and he was yours.

His footsteps are heavy as he draws closer until he's right before you. You look at him so softly. Your eyes are like dams threatening to give away if he didn't accept this watering, this tending. You'd worked so hard.

You collapse into his arms the minute he holds you, and he goes down with you, both of you sinking onto the floor in a loving heap. He doesn't even let your head touch the ground, only looking at you with fondness.

Aizawa kisses you, and it's like a cool drink of water. You're satiated yet hungry for more. Hungry for him.

"I'm going to take you home," he whispers tenderly, accompanied by a hand smoothing down the side of your waist before hooking under your knees.

He bridal carries you past the threshold of his office and building and towards his car. It's an intimate carry; you hold onto him with a soft smile.

His steps are measured as he takes you up the stairs of his home. Your eyes greedily latch onto every detail you pass by: the pictures daintily hung on the wall, the way a cat peeks in from the kitchen, the way the whole home is ornate and decorated. It's lived in, and you bring yourself closer to burying into Aizawa's neck.

The minute your back hits the bed, you're engaged in a passionate lip-lock that won't quit. It's not the rough dominance of Aizawa trying to eat you whole. It was the experience of two lovers finally able to blend as one.

He's gentle as he lays you back against plush silken sheets, immediately crawling and molding his body to yours with a hefty groan. His body weight is addicting. Your thumbs press against the divots in his back to try and bring him impossibly closer.

"Been wanting to kiss you since I saw you, pretty girl."

"Me too," your tongue laves over his bottom lip. "I only wanted you."

"I know. I see you."

He breathes into your neck before diving in to lick and suck at the supple skin. You can't help the squirming and the hot whimpers that escape you, the rough patches on your neck growing more abundant with every kiss of his lips and bite of his teeth.

"I want you," you confide, hands loosening his hair from the tight bun into loose strands that surround you. "I need you, Aizawa."

"Call me Shota." a burning hand trails down your hip to between your legs.

You're already mewling, trying to shut your legs despite Shota insisting with a "be good" to keep them open. His hand catches your thigh, and you shrink at his look that pins you to the covers.

"Be still," he says, and a finger drags up your puffy lips over your underwear.

The fabric catches on your clit, and you gasp; your hips tilting back and forth for moremoremore–

Shota tugs your panties to the side and spreads you open, his eyes greedy as they rake over every inch of your dripping cunny. You know you're making a mess all over his hand as you writhe and leak.

"Shota, ohfuckk. Don't stare," you barely manage to get out when his rough thumb circles your needy clit.

"I'll stare as much as I feel like, sweetheart. You're dripping for me, soaking my hand. 'S so cute."

You can't even find it in yourself to plead for him to stop. He sinks two fingers in you like it's nothing, an amused chuckle reverberating through his chest at the sight, "You play with your pussy a lot? She swallowed my fingers up like it was nothing. Is it gonna be the same when I stuff you full?"

"I'll take it, I-I can take your cock."

"Good girl. Saying exactly what I want to hear," and he's kissing you.

His hand leaves you, much to your chagrin, and you're left spread open wide in front of him as he rapidly undresses. His bulge is big, and you're almost a bit intimidated when his boxers reveal the shape of his thick cock leaking pre-cum. You wet your lips, and your knees go to touch before he pulls them open wider and settles on his haunches.

"Getting shy now?"

"No…"

"Then open your legs."

It's not a question but a command. You do as he says.

His underwear is pushed down to free his dick, the thick length bobbing and brushing against his happy trail. It's so lewd, and he looks so manly. His muscles are rippling, and he's so hard between your legs. Your hole clenches around nothing, and Shota runs the angry red tip through your folds.

"Ah! Don't tease me," you murmur, feet flexing with need.

His fat tip just barely presses against your hole, just barely pushing past your clenching pussy with a lazy grin, "I won't. Just lay back, honey."

Shota's voice is syrupy and smooth. His hands push your thighs farther than you thought they'd go as he sinks inch by inch into you.

"Oh, oh, Shota–you're so big."

"Poor pussy's squeezing me so tight," he grunts lowly. "You feel so good, sweetheart."

He plants a soft kiss against your ankle before shifting and bullying three inches of himself inside you. You cry out, eyes rolling back as he shallowly thrusts and works you open, breath heavy on his lips as he fucks his cock into you.

Your pussy's so sloppy, leaking and creaming around him before he's even balls deep inside you. Shota mounts you, and you're scrunched under him with a whimpering wail, "There we go. Nice and full, huh?"

"Y-Yeah! Ohgod, I-I can't–"

"Oh, fuuuuck."

He moves slowly and thrusts so deep you feel him in your stomach. It's sinful, the way his hips start to rock into yours, tip rubbing against your womb as you moan and moan.

"God, 'm so deep inside you. Fucking claiming this pussy, right? Just giving my girl what she needs, a nice, good pounding."

Shota's balls smack against your ass as he speeds up, sticky clit mashing against the coarse hair at his base as he rams himself into you again and again. You feel delirious as you get fucked further into the mattress. The two of you are one, creaming around his base as your nails scratch lines across his back.

"Rub your clit, baby. Make yourself feel good."

“‘M gonna cum, Shotaaa!”

"Hold it," he hisses, hips still pistoning in and out of you as he thrusts particularly hard. "Want you to rub yourself, sweetheart. You can do that for me, yeah?"

You're near tears as your hand shakily flits over your sore pussy, howling from pleasure as you circle it once, twice–" I-I can't, please, lemme cum!"

"Hmm," and you can feel how he throbs inside you.

Your walls suck him in impossibly deeper, and you can see the sweat dripping down his forehead as he heaves a breath. You squeeze again, and he glares at you darkly, eyes narrowed and stormy as he settles his hips on top of yours, heavy balls churning with the need to cum.

"Go ahead, since you wanna cum so bad."

"Sh-Shota!"

You're fucking squirting. Your juices make more of a mess, and it does it for him as he slams into you for a few more thrusts before hunkering down and sliding right against your womb. A few tears escape you as rope after rope of cum fills you to the brim, your eyes rolling back as he milks himself inside your sweet cunt.

"God, fuck," he shudders, hips twitching as he finishes breeding you.

Shota's eyes are closed as he holds you both in that position. If you weren't on birth control, you'd be in trouble as globs of cum spill out when he adjusts his grip on you. He pulls out slowly, watching the white fill and drip down your ass lewdly. He looks magical the way he bites his lip and spreads your open, hole clenching and letting out more of his release.

"You're so pretty."

Both of you are spent and exhausted. You can't find it in yourself to reply. Aizawa's muscles bulge when he pulls you closer into his body, a shiver coursing through you at a lazy finger trailing over your spine. Both of you are quiet for a while, the intense passion taking a load on you both.

You nearly fall asleep while he strokes you.

"Where are you originally from?"

It makes you pause before you answer your hometown, eyes pulling up to meet his soft ones.

"... Where did you go to school?"

"UA High School. Then, I went overseas for my law degree."

"Oh. I always wondered where you went."

"I always wondered where you were from," he whispers, noses your face, and plants a sweet kiss on your lips.

The two of you swap stories and questions just like that for hours. It means everything to you, and Shota wishes you could've done this sooner. Wishes he could've known this woman before.

"Do I still get to keep my job?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

-

You walk, arms spread out wide and attached to the spreader bar. You adorn yourself with a clean white blouse and a navy blue skirt—prim and proper. It's easy now, as you squat to grab a paper with your left hand and turn to your right to staple it.

It's easy, grabbing things with your teeth as you prance around, spread open as if on a cross for him. Your boss wanted you that way; he wanted you to be spread open and bare for him, fresh enough to eat.

You carry the tray with coffee in your right hand and the stack of papers in your left hand. As you approach the ajar office door, you can hear his voice, "Come in, and get on your knees."

The oak office door is kicked closed behind you without another word.