#so I never got treatment LOLL

[wowa-bublord]

fellow sleep apnea haver,,., when it happens, does it wake you up? and does it tie into your dreams if you're having one?

it does wake me up! And a lot of the time I wake up with a super dry mouth nd throat from it.. it's pretty rare I sleep past 6am because of it (when i go to sleep at a normal time LMAO) I don't think it's ever changed my dreams tho.. or maybe I just haven't noticed cos I already have pretty weird dreams LOL.

[ratzhatz14]

mmmm... Imma try this way of posting Incase I still have that glitch...

Hihihihi guys

I kept forgetting to post these doodles which are... Idfk how old but old enough to retire

On the last image... I missed a bunch of words because my silly ol brain can't write at the speed of my average thought

So here's a better digital explanation because I hate writing!1!1!!!;

"If Astro was/is friend's with Cosmo, shouldn't he have some plant or flower on him?"

"Well, he's just good at avoiding."

"Before, Sprout would've tried to sneak attack Astro (and Vee since... BODYLESS <3), but he always SOMEHOW managed to get away, and lose track of him (high stealth coming in handy). And eventually, Astro got so paranoid of Sprout to the point where he refused to sleep, leading to beloved insomnia and constantly being on guard, just to ensure his and Vee's safety. By now, Sprout just gave up and decided to leave him be... For now, or until he's in a vulnerable position."

...idk what I just typed but I typed something

Quick note; Toons who interacted with Cosmo would have a feature related to plants/nature, and Toons who only interacted with Sprout would look a little damaged/on edge

AND.... I came up with a Bloomed Rodger design, but I won't spoil it until his time comes <333 (sorrgy not sorry cresentdreamers /hj)

[aboutcustardcreams]

Wake up call

Agathario x reader

Another scene I'm deeply in love with is Agatha and Rio's fight happening in the first episode. So, here it is what would happen with r joining it.

pt. 2

Rio leaned closer to Agatha with a lopsided grin, “I’ve missed you,” she purred, tracing her former lover’s jawline with the curved blade in her hand. 

Agatha’s chest rose and fell, an expression of pure hatred flashed upon her blue eyes, mingled with a hint of something else, mabe fear. “I hate you.”

Rio lolled her head back and laughed bitterly, “course, you do.” 

The day you and Agatha vowed to never see her face anymore, her heart shattered until nothing was left of it. But she was Lady Death, meaning that no matter what you wanted, someday your paths would cross again and that’s what kept her going. 

You had just parked in the driveway, when an explosion coming from inside the house alerted you. On your way back from the grocery store, your memories came back one by one, and you almost hit a pedestrian or two at the realization that you and Agatha had been trapped under a spell for about three years. And now that you were ‘awake’, you were pretty sure she was too. You quickly got out of the car and stepped inside, silently praying that Agatha was okay. 

Last person you thought you’d see was Rio. 

“Drop the dagger now,” your voice came out sharp and dangerous. 

Both witches snapped their heads towards you. Your eyes locked with Agatha’s first. She breathed a sigh of relief at your sight, her blue orbs filled with all sorts of thoughts. 

“Hello, mi nena,” Rio quipped, tone softening at the sight of you. “Glad you’re awake too. Agatha and I were just.. catching up, right?”

You took a step closer, keeping your eyes on Rio. “I see– rude of you to start without me,” there was a hint of sarcasm in your voice, that both witches grasped. “Now, don’t make me repeat myself, you know I hate it.” 

“Uhm, I don’t know.” Instead of listening to you, Rio pushed the blade deeper against Agatha. The witch struggled to keep the blade at distance, trembling while doing so. 

Your hands turned into fists, a gust of wind rose up around you. Objects started levitating, the chandelier in the lounge room swayed and Agatha’s lips curled upwards, happy to realize your powers were still part of you. 

The vibrancy of your magic brought back all sorts of memories of the time you three spent together. “Looks like our sweet girl over there is in control of her powers. How does it feel, Agatha?” Rio asked in a mocking tone. “Don’t you resent her like you resent me?” 

The purple witch was quick to shake her head, scoffing to herself at the same time. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

When she looked at you, she saw one of the most incredible witches she ever had the pleasure to meet.

“You’re nothing like her.”

Rio let out a whiny sound, “why does she get special treatment and I don’t, huh?”

In the meantime, your irises turned the same color of your magic, a bright hue of silver and enveloped your entire body as well. 

“She did everything she could, while you–” she winced when the tip of the dagger pressed further against her skin. “What, huh? What are you blaming me for? I’m the natural order of all the things baby, and you know it. You always knew it!” 

When she pushed the blade further closer to her skin,  Agatha’s grip on Rio’s wrists loosened and the dagger scraped her. While Rio grinned at the sight of Agatha’s blood flowing so deliciously from her collarbone to her chestline, you levitated from the floor and your palms opened wide, exploding with your magic. 

“You’re nothing!” 

Rio let out a strangled yelp, as her body was thrown on the other side of the corridor. Agatha let out a sigh of relief, mouthing a fragile thank you in your direction as you rushed towards her. You didn’t say anything at first and simply hugged her, your heart thumping in your chest at incredible speed. 

“Are you hurt?” 

She shook her head, but you knew better. While that small cut wasn’t anything serious, you knew the pain in her heart was greater. You pressed your lips together, giving her a skeptical look. With a flick of your finger, you healed the wound on her skin,  and for some reason, it made Agatha feel even worse, but she didn’t say anything to you. 

Rio pulled herself up, stretching both arms and legs, “Ahw, did she make it better?” 

Agatha growled, fingers wiggling as if she could actually summon magic. 

You immediately stood in front of her, “don’t come any closer,” you warned her. 

The Green Witch hummed and her brows knitted in a frown, “where did I see this scene before?”

You swallowed thickly at the painful memories she was able to bring back with such ease. You had so many questions going on inside your head, the most important would probably be, why? Why the betrayal, why the lies, why the pain? 

“Cut the crap, Rio,” Agatha snapped, worrying about your sudden discomfort, “what do you want?”

She fake pouted at her angry tone, “you used to be much nicer to me,” with the tip of the blade, she moved a strand of hair from her face. And when you scoffed, a dark shadow passed through her eyes, “I’m just missing the old days. I want you back– in a way or another, meaning that if I have to kill you both, I will,” she added the last part with a strange look in her eyes. Almost hysterical. You only had a couple of seconds to react. Rio’s dagger flew in your direction, missing you and Agatha by a nose, as you shoved her to the side, shielding her with your body. 

Agatha grunted at the sound of Rio’s giggles, “I’m gonna kill her.” 

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, “it’s not possible, unfortunately.” 

Propping yourself up, you helped Agatha do the same. 

While doing so, you spotted the dagger behind you. You pointed at it to Agatha with a nod of your head. She was closer to the weapon so she lunged forward to grab it. Rio ignored her and focused on you. She gave you little time to anticipate her move and with a yelp she sprung forward, fuelled by her magic. Before you knew it, her fingers tightened around your neck and squeezed. 

Her head lolled to the side, and watched you with a mixture of nostalgia and admiration, “naughty, naughty–”

“Let her go!” Before Agatha could even make an attempt to stab Lady Death on the shoulder, Rio sent her flying in the lounge room, her back hitting a cabinet that after the impact, crashed on top of her.  

Your eyes snapped open, as you squirmed but to no avail, “Agatha!” 

“Do you remember pain, my love?”

“I never stopped feeling it since the day you betrayed us.”

You still resented her for the things she did. And you probably would for the rest of your life. Her face dimmed and her lips pursed into a grimace; the grip around your neck loosened, but she didn’t let go. Was that disappointment settling in her chest? 

“You’re so clueless about the things I did for you.” 

Tears pricked at your eyes, but despite them a choked chuckle slipped from your lips. She did nothing for you, nor for Agatha and even less for Nicky. She only took, betrayed your trust and hurt you in the most inexplicable way. 

“All you did was make things worse.”

Rio snarled at your accusation,“you knew that messing with the Fates wasn’t without consequences!” 

Your answer came out in a faint, yet determined whisper, “you were the one to send the Furies my way.” 

In the meantime, Agatha straightened herself out, wincing at the pain in her arms, as shreds of glass cut through her skin. She scanned the surroundings  in search of something, anything that could be used against Rio. While her eyes landed on a wooden tray, Rio blasted you against the wall behind you with full demoniac force, her voice distorted as well, sounding deeper and animalistic, “I had no other choice!”

Agatha mentally screamed at the chunks of plaster coming down at you. 

You whimpered, feeling Rio’s body towering over yours, “sorry, did it tickle too much?” 

Despite the dizziness, you found the sassiness to roll your shoulders, “No.” With the corner of your eye, you spotted Agatha coming your way, holding something in her hands. Realizing what it was made you almost chuckle. “But I bet this will.” 

Before Rio could ask you what you meant, the purple witch hit the back of her head with an angry growl and a deadly stare in the eye.  

“Dark Mother, I’m so sick of her,” she muttered, glancing back at you. 

You chuckled briefly, before erupting into a fit of coughs. Your throat felt on fire because of Rio. You were pretty sure it was bruising already for how much she squeezed. Agatha kneeled in front of you, her fingers hovering over your neck, but barely touching it, for fear of causing you extra pain,  “I’m sorry about–” 

“Don’t. The ‘s’ word isn’t allowed,” you chided her softly. She nibbled the inside of her cheek, blinking back the tears from her eyes. She hated feeling powerless, even more now considering you could really use some of her purple as backup.

Noticing the veil of sadness in her eyes, you tried to cheer her up, giving her a playful nudge, “what you did was rather hot by the way.” 

She snorted out a laugh, “are you turned on, love?” 

A playful smirk tugged at your lips, “maybe.”

She pulled you closer, tugging at the fabric of your blouse. Her forehead adhered against yours and you closed your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to inhale her sweet. Her hand ran from your collarbone up to your chin, her thumb gently grazed your bottom lip, pushing it down and making you smile. When you reopened your eyes, you took her hand in yours, and intertwined your fingers together in the attempt to brush aside all the worries you spotted in her eyes. 

Rio let out a frustrated growl, “Good job, Agatha. I’m impressed. A little higher and that would have really hurt.” 

On instinct, you tried to move Agatha behind you, but she resisted, making you frown. 

“Ugh!” Rio swept her tongue over her lips, “the way she would throw herself in Hell for you really warms my heart.” 

You said nothing because it was true. You would do the craziest things for her, just like you did for Nicky. 

Agatha smacked her lips, almost laughing in her face. “Please, you don’t have a heart.” 

Rio locked eyes with her, and for a moment you spotted a veil of hurt in her brown orbs. “Yes, I do,” she argued, before dropping her voice into a softer murmur, “it’s black and it beats for both of you.”

Agatha said nothing, while you couldn’t bring yourself to be quiet after that colossal lie, “you’re pathetic.”

Her gaze narrowed towards you; a flash of fury dimmed her features. “Madness turned you into a real brat. Perhaps you fancy another ride?” 

You swallowed thickly and turned stiff. Those words stung painfully, there was no point in hiding it. You hated how easily she could bring back the memories of your trauma, making you feel as if you were reviving it all over again. 

A single tear slipped from your eye, but you were quick to wipe it. Agatha’s hand found yours and squeezed; she felt your magic tickling her skin, it was mirroring your emotions and she knew it would burst soon. 

“You’re a monster,” Agatha’s voice came out in hiss. 

Then it happened. You let go of Agatha’s hand and tackled Rio on the floor. Her back hit the ground with force, and despite that, she laughed. You pinned her wrists above her head, digging your fingernails into her skin, wishing to hurt, to tear the skin apart, and make her feel even an ounce of the pain you endured because of her. 

Agatha’s eyes widened both in shock and surprise at your outburst. 

“My, my, aren’t you sexy when you’re mad?”

You smacked her across the face. Hard. 

“Woah, okay girl–”, she conceded, calling a truce, “tell me what you want.” 

“I want you to get the fuck out of my life.” 

Rio lifted her chin up, a dark chuckle escaped her lips, “All roads lead to me, mi nena. Whether you like it or not, you’ll die. Why can’t we speed up the process?” 

“You’re not allowed to kill us,” your voice dropped in an icy growl. 

“I second that,” Agatha quipped. 

Rio scoffed amusedly, “are you sure about that?” Before you could respond with another sassy remark, she headbutted you straight on the nose. You fell to the side, letting go of Rio’s wrists and allowing her to flee from your grasp. You groaned and cursed under your breath, when she kicked your side with the boot of her shoe. Agatha took you in her arms, as quickly as she could, then started crawling backwards with you firmly pressed against her chest, “you okay?” 

“Fine,” you croaked out, in annoyance. 

By the look on your bloody face, she realized you’d very well use a break. 

But Rio seemed to have other ideas, the knife was back in her hand as she approached you. 

“Wait, just wait a damn second–” Agatha held out a hand towards the Green Witch, while the other remained wrapped around your underarms. 

Rio hummed and traced the tip of the blade with her fingertips. 

“This isn’t what you want. Plus, I don’t have any powers so it’s not exactly a fair fight, is it?” She gave a nervous chuckle, hoping her words would buy you some time to recover. “Don’t you want us at our best?” 

Rio grinned, with a devilish light in her eyes, “Horizontal, in  a grave?”

“Not exactly,” she muttered, “I mean, in full control of our powers. Just let me get my purple back, let her recover and if you really want to– come back and find us.”

Your breath hitched, it was hard to breathe properly with the blood clogging your nostrils. You summoned your magic, and despite being a tad weaker, you knew it could heal you if given proper time. 

“Why don’t you take mine?” Rio’s suggestion made your stomach lurch. 

“That’s cute,” Agatha mused. “But you know that would kill me.”

“Then what about hers?” 

It didn’t seem like a terrible idea to you. But Agatha’s answer was categorical, “No.” 

You looked up at her, noticing the hesitation in her features. Maybe fear too. Truth was, she didn’t trust herself to do such a thing, not to you. You knew she found immense pleasure in sucking away powers from witches, she knew it was wrong, and for years the only reason why she did that was to keep Nicky alive. That’s the reason why you helped her do it. As a mother you could back up from your responsibilities and as a witch, you learned the hard way that in order to survive you had to do all sorts of things. 

There was something about your magic that scared Agatha. You were the only necromancer witch she ever crossed paths with, so she wasn’t sure she would be able to pull away from you, once she got a taste of your forbidden  magic.

Rio pursed her lips in a grimace, “you’re such a coward.”

“She isn’t,” you argued back. 

When Rio finally put the dagger down, both you and Agatha frowned in confusion. “Show me, then. Blast her. Help her restore her purple.” 

“We aren’t doing this, Rio,” Agatha insisted rather adamantly. 

“I’d think about it before making a decision, my love,” Rio leaned closer, her voice soft and eerily calm. “You see, I'm not the only one that wishes you dead. I’d expect guests at sundown.”

You frowned at her words, “who do you mean?”  

Rio’s eyes flashed with excitement. “The worst of them. The Salem Seven.” 

For a moment both you and Agatha fell quiet. You felt Agatha turn still behind you, and your heart ached for her. You turned to face her, as the grip around your middle loosened. 

“Hey, I’m here, Agatha,” your voice came out both firm and tender. “It’s going to be alright”

Rio laughed softly at that. She shoved your shoulder in a playful way, “I have a feeling we will meet again, very soon.”

She paused where once it stood the front door, “Hasta luego,” she waved her fingers before stepping out of the house. 

You considered Rio’s words, and as much as you wished to find another solution, there wasn’t really another way to restore Agatha’s powers, especially not in such a short time. 

“Maybe–”

“Don’t,” she cut you off, sharply. 

You raised your hands defensively, “Fine, sorry. But I think we should at least think about it.”

When she didn’t respond, you decided to give her a moment. Pushing yourself up, your eyes darted to the mess around you. There were pieces of furniture pretty much everywhere, shreds of glass, plates and cutlery and even sections of ripped wallpaper, along with chunks of plasters, “this is not how I imagined to spend this Friday…” you hoped your little joke would put a smile on Agatha’s face, but she remained motionless. 

Agatha started to regret having woken up from Wanda’s spell. Now not only was she awake, but she had no power, the Salem Seven and Rio wanted her dead, her house was falling to pieces, and on top of that, you were in potential danger because of her. The only reason why she survived the loss of Nicky was because of you. But if she lost you too…

She clenched her eyes and took a deep breath, refusing to dwell in such thoughts. 

“Uhm, Agatha?” You were wrong to think nothing else could surprise you that day. 

She made a hum sound, finally getting on her feet, face turned towards you. 

“Why is there a gagged boy in our wardrobe?”

[chxrrysangel]

Conflict of Interest

Pairing | Plug!Choso x fem!reader

Words | schmedium

Summary | Choso never quite does his intended job when you meet. Special treatment is what they call it, not that he’d outright admit to it. One day, you request his services outside of your normal routine. And things get, well, complicated.

Tags | 🍃, hotboxing, car sex, dub con (both parties are under the influence), overstimulation, kinda dom! Choso, no protection, praise kink, no use of y/n, overstimulation, creampie

Notes | I’ve had this in my drafts for so fucking long that I was getting sick and tired of going back to it instead of just posting. Overthinking is an understatement. (I’ll probably end up editing it again later)

You called up Choso a week early, stressed out of your fucking mind. It seemed like any problem the universe could throw at you, it did. You watched with anxious fingers tapping against the steering wheel as his deep blue car rolled into the empty parking lot. An abandoned mall is easily the best place for your exchanges, you both liked it that way.

He had his hair down today, catching you off guard for a moment. It’s not the first time he’s done it, but the stark contrast to his usual hairstyle was always surprising.

“Miss me?”, he asked with a smile as he closed the distance. You scoff and chuckle.

“I miss what’s in your bag. You’re not that special Kamo.”

“Oh but I am. We both know it.” He didn’t mention the break in routine, knowing it was probably something personal. You didn’t share much with one another, choosing the “basically strangers” dynamic to be a smarter option. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t break the agreement every once in a while. Even as he stands before the hood of your Jeep Grand Cherokee, your eyes can’t help but glance down at his playful smile when he talks or the movement of his fingers while he rolls. Your breath caught in your throat as he brought the paper to his lips, tongue flattening against its edge. Brown eyes glinted with mischief as they made contact with yours, a hum of satisfaction leaving his lips at catching you in the act. God if the earth could just open up and swallow me, that’d be great.

“Wanna smoke with me today?” You snapped out of your daze of distractions at the question, disbelief washing over your features.

“Really?” The large man shrugged, in a why not kind of way. How could you say no?

~~

Choso could taste the berry in your gloss as his lips wrapped around the blunt, inhaling the strain and feeling his chest grow warmer. It hadn’t been long, but the windows of Choso’s car had already begun to fog, despite the cracked windows.

That’s how you two spent the next hour, sharing two blunts and chatting together as your high began to wash over.

“Fuck, that’s strong.”

“Isn’t it?,” you softly whisper, head lolling towards him.

The two of you talk about anything and everything, minds expanding to limits you hadn’t even realized existed. Somehow the conversation drifted to the more personal aspects of your lives, such as your romantic lives.

“You’ve got a boyfriend?,” Choso whispered across the dash. You shook your head, waiting for his next question.

“Girlfriend?”

“If I didn’t know any better Kamo, I’d think you wanna date me.”

“God you fucking wish. Just curious.” Sometimes, you did wish. Not that he could ever know that.

“What about you, smartass. Dating anyone?”

“Nah, don’t have time for that.”

The car developed into a comfortable silence, neither of you feeling eagering to speak. It was like this with Choso, always has been. He understood the need for shutting up sometimes, no unnecessary pressure to converse.

“I think I need a haircut.” His random outburst prompted a barking laugh, caught off guard by the irrelevancy.

“I’m serious. It’s getting too long.” You looked over at him,pouting. You liked his hair, in fact you loved it. When he hung his head, the layers encased his face like a halo. It was the perfect haircut, not that you could really say so. Any allusion to your thoughts could ruin everything. So you settle for something simple.

“I like your hair.”

“Yeah?, he questions with a head tilt. You murmured a hum of agreement, leaning over the console to put a hand towards his face.

“I think your bangs could use a little trim though,” you remarked with a ruffle of his hair. You began to pull away a few seconds too late, eyes settling on his features and feeling yourself get too caught up. Choso’s eyes caught yours, grabbing your wrist to keep you close.

“Willing to cut it for me?” His eyes flickered across your features, analyzing them with an intensity you’ve never seen in him before. It was unnerving.

You nodded, swallowing a large gulp of nerves.

You sat outstretched over the console, not making any attempt to sit back properly on your side. He broke the silence before you could consider a regrettable choice, going on about munchies and making you laugh. That comment is what led to your current argument on the best type of cake as you unwrapped a cupcake in your hands.

“It’s very easily vanilla,” he argued, “it’s the most versatile option.” You scoff mid-bite.

“Didn’t know you were so boring, Kamo.” He looked offended at your comment, putting a hand on his chest like it hurt.

“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite then?”

“Red velvet. Hence why all of them are on my side of the tray.”

“You think you’re so special, picking red velvet over all the other options,” he teased.

“I know I’m special,” you mocked. Something shifted in the air when you said that, Choso growing quiet with no comeback prepared. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

“You uh…you got something,” he whispered distractedly while leaning in. His thumb wiped at the corner of your mouth, dark eyes staring into yours. You watched as time slowed, his thumb reaching up to his lips and sucking.

“Frosting.” The two of you just stared at one another, high out of your minds and scared to breathe. Instinctively, you glance at his blush lips, not even remotely afraid that he would notice. His tongue darted out between the folds, covering the surface in spit and you nearly moaned.

“Fuck me,” you whispered to yourself, almost in pain.

He leans farther over the center console, putting a hand on your neck. Nothing was said as you stared into his eyes, bouncing back and forth between his irises as he wrestled with his thoughts. You leaned in , the gap between your lips just barely a sliver. You could kiss him easily, that much was obvious. But fear made you hesitate, breath fanning across his cheeks in anticipation of the next move.

“Choso,” you whispered in a barely audible tone.

“Don't talk,” he said before making the brave choice.

His lips capture yours, hesitant but curious. It takes a moment to find rhythm but soon you’re moaning softly into his mouth and gripping onto his arm for dear life. Choso was a good kisser, the soft muscle of his tongue bullying its way past your lips as he explored your mouth. He broke the kiss, staring at you with need. His lips were glossy with spit, pupils massive with lust.

“Back seat. Now.” You didn’t need to be told twice.

You watched as he impatiently pushed the seats forward, as far as the mechanism would allow.. He climbed into the backseat, a boyish smile adorning his features that you’ve adored from your first meeting.

“Choso, need you.”

He manhandles your body, grabbing your thighs to guide you into his lap.

Choso pushed your hips down on his crotch, your clit grinding against his rough zipper with earnestness. His plush lips peppered kisses down your neck and collarbone, smiling into your skin at the thought of seeing all this tomorrow. The two of you had crossed the line of friendship and he was quite intent on never going back now he’s gotten a taste. You whimpered, as though on the verge of tears, desperate for relief from the throbbing of your cunt.

“Oh, that’s cute.”

“Shut up. Not funny,” you retorted.

“Whatever you say sweetheart.” He thrust upwards, the outline of his erection rubbing so perfectly against your clit. A pathetically desperate whimper slips out, and he chuckles.

“I know baby, I know.” Choso continues to mark you, his featherlight touch on your skin sending tingles up your spine.

~~~

Had he not pushed his seat back, your ass would be pressing uncomfortably into the leather right now. Choso’s hands engulfed your hips, guiding you on his cock with every thrust. Your skin buzzed with the effects of indica, hot with desire as he fucked your brains out.

“Shit, Cho. So fuckin—ngh—good.” You whined into his neck, trying to muffle your sounds.

A chuckle reverberated through his body, dark with knowing.

“Don’t hide those pretty moans from me, baby. Wanna hear you.”

You leaned back, coming face to face with Choso. He was so pretty like this, a light sheen of sweat making his bangs stick to his skin in a pleasured bliss. Your pussy squeezed around his shaft, making him whine with need.

“Fuck that’s good,” he cried. Watching you bounce was like nothing he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Just then, an idea formed in his mind. Choso angled his hips more upward, hitting your g-spot and pulling a pleasured sob from your lips. He watched with satisfaction as your eyes crossed for a moment, going dumb before his eyes. The glossed out look said everything, too lost in the pleasure to be remotely coherent.

“Feel good, pretty girl?” You could barely whimper out an affirmation, feeling your impending orgasm. You mewled incoherently, a jumble of curses and praise. With a shaking hand, you rubbed your clit as your stomach began to tighten in need for release.

“Right there baby. Fuck don’t stop don’t stop.”

Choso pushed off his own orgasm, wanting to watch you make a mess on his dick first. He grinned, taking in your fucked out state with great pleasure. The little you had shared with each other revealed that your sexual experience with men had been rather disappointing. Your last ex had no clue how to please you, too concerned with his own orgasm to ever worry about yours. He was selfish in that way, as well as many others.

He grabbed your hair, pulling you down in a sloppy kiss. If it wasn’t for how well he fucked, this kiss alone was enough to make your head spin. Your body felt miles away, the combination of the thc and the best fuck of your life making your skin tingle.

Your limbs began to tense, signals of how close you were. Your vision was blurry, teeth searing into your bottom lip with focus.

Choso felt your walls grow tighter, filling his chest with pride. He maintained his pace, pushing harder with each thrust. Your nails dug deep into the hard skin of his shoulders, imprinting moon-shaped marks.

“Close aren’t you?”

“So fucking close baby”. You stumbled over your response, struggling to say every syllable.

With a few more thrusts, your toes curled as you came. The squelching sounds in the car increased tenfold, a sound Choso was eager to revel in. He fucked you through your orgasm, thrusting getting sloppier by the second. His balls tightened, body buzzing as he fucked his cum into you. Before you could say anything, he didn’t stop. His mouth formed into an O, tip extremely sensitive.

“I think I can get one more out of you.”

A statement that felt more like a demand.

You began to shake your head, feeling the creeping discomfort of overstimulation begin to course through your shaking body.

He whispered sweet praises as you squirmed. Your body wasn’t sure of whether to lean into his touch or pull away, confused but pulsing with need. Your cunt choked his shaft, tense as you pushed through the masochistic pain. But soon enough that pain turned into pleasure, attempting to meet his thrusts to chase your orgasm.

He grinned with knowing, cheeky like a cat who got the cream.

“Shut up,” you uttered between gasps. He winked, satisfied with his clear victory. Even during the most intimate moments, he couldn’t help but be his usual annoying self

“Gonna cum Cho.” You whispered into his neck.

“Fuck. Can feel it. Doing so well for me, baby.”

His praise made you squeeze harder around him. Now that he’s had a taste, he’s unsure of how he’ll be able to let you go. Every touch, every look, every smile led up to this moment.

Every muscle in your body tenses as you cum, ears ringing as Choso praises you. His thumb rubs your clit in firm circles, the pleasure making your walls spasm around his sensitive cock.

“That’s it baby, doing so fucking good.” Choso slurred his words, head sensitive as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. The base of his spine tingled, pushing him back towards the edge again. He blabbered incoherently as you came down, mumbling about how good your pussy is.

His hips stilled as he shot white ropes into you, filling your cunt with his warm seed. Your tired quick breaths as you gasped for air quickly faded into light laughter as you watched each other come down. Choso smiled lazily, dazed and completely out of it. With a delicate hand, he pushed some of your hair out of your face before pulling you in for another kiss. This one was much softer, gentle and unrushed. Romantic even.

“We just made things really complicated, didn’t we?,” you question against his lips. He didn’t answer really, murmuring in disagreement as he deepened the kiss.

“Choso! I’m serious”.

“So am I.”

[roanniom]

For the celebration tonight: never have I ever been slapped during sex. Or even asked for it!

💞💞💞💞

You Sure, Princess?

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Warnings: PIV sex consensual slapping (if this makes you uncomfy please skip, it's a kink, don't engage if you do not like), Soft dom!Eddie

Hahaha no I haven’t and it’s something I’ve only just recently been into in fics. Never have I ever been - or asked to be - slapped during sex.

Eddie has his big hand gently placed on your throat and it’s got you in that mood. He knows the mood. Sees it in your eyes, recognizes it in the arch of your back. You don’t get this way often, but he knows you go there when you’re feeling out of your mind turned on and completely inhibition-less. The idea that he can take you to that place drives him wild.

“Want it rougher, Teddy."

Teddy.

You only call him Teddy when you really want it bad.

"You sure, princess?" he asks softly. He knows it's the contrast you like. The harsh actions and the soft treatment. You nod your head vigorously and it makes his heart swell.

"Please, Teddy. Please, just a little, want it so bad - ,"

The slap comes swiftly, not as harsh as you would have liked it but he respects your limits and you respect his as well. He only wants to go so hard and the bright sting on your cheek zings through your body like bubbles in soda. You bring your face back to look up at him with a loopy smile on your face.

"Again."

The slap comes from the other side this time, evening out the sting in a way that has your pussy throbbing around his cock. Your head lols back to center again and your smile is even more blissed out then before.

"Jesus Christ, don't look so pleased about it," Eddie chuckles, but his face is beet red as he tries to combat the way it feels to have you look so fucked out and happy beneath him for such a salacious reason.

"Thank you, Teddy," you sigh, lolling your head around in the pillow, closing your eyes against the pleasure of his thrusts. But even they are not enough for you eventually. So you dig your fingers into the small of his back and try your best to pull him into you. "Mmmmm more."

So Eddie bears down and gives it to you harder, thrusting into you fast and deep. He gives you everything. Because he'd give you anything you could ever ask for.

~*

[whumpbug]

🤝✊ pleasepleasepleasep (did i input the right emojis praying i did augh)

-@mellowwhumps

mello! thank u for the ask i hope this is what you were looking for... i think i might not be my best work but i still had fun writing it!!!!! feel free to send more bc writing these little drabbles is so fun (′ꈍᴗꈍ‵)

🤝- hand holding

✊- protecting

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Archie had never been more furious in his life.

Simon was flagging. His head was lolling to the side as he tried in vain to stay awake. The wound in his side was steadily leaking blood, and Archie didn’t know what to do.

It had been a surprise attack. Simon and Archie were walking to the movie theater together, both as civilians, when Archie stepped away for just a moment to buy a soda from a vending machine.

A hitman, presumably hired by one of the many organizations that wanted Vigil dead, recognized Simon as one of the targets and struck. He shot Simon right in the leg and fled the scene.

The worst part was that Archie knew they were just trying to get a rise out of him and he couldn’t do anything about it while not dressed as Vigil. It was infuriating.

So, he sat with Simon as they waited for the ambulance, hand clutched in his. He was using his other hand to gently smooth back his hair, hoping to keep him semi-awake.

“I’m so sorry this happened.. I’m so sorry Simon..” He whispered. Simon gave him a weak smile, letting his eyes flutter closed. The sound of sirens got louder.

It wasn’t fair. Simon shouldn’t have had to get hurt because of him. Their problem was with Archie. Simon already did so much for him. The last thing he wanted was to put his life in danger, but it felt like that was all he had managed to do lately.

Archie swallowed the lump in his throat and gripped his hand tighter.

Eventually, the ambulance came and Simon was transported to the hospital. The treatment was quick and went without incident, and for that Archie was grateful. Still, seeing Simon sleeping so listlessly reminded him that the outcome could have been much, much worse. 

The thought made him feel sick.

He sat at Simon’s bedside, still holding his limp hand. As much as he didn’t want to leave Simon’s side, he also couldn’t just let this slide. He had to send a message.

His jaw flexed as he got to his feet.

“I’ll be back, Simon,” He whispered, squeezing his hand and pulling away. “I’m gonna take care of this.”

With a new resolve, he set off to find the son of a bitch that did this.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[mintytealfox]

hello Minty, what's good? I have been wondering, have you ever thought of some silly hc for the different skins Norton has? considering that some of them have their own lore and differences from the original one and knowing that some changes most of his look (waiting for Magic item keeper stuff...)

Heellllooooo Anon~ Its another good day of thinking about Norton/Nortalice and listening to Enya while still doing breathing treatments heh~ 🤣👌👌👌👌💪

YOU BET I HAVE LOL I have too much time to think recently lol

I have been wondering for Orphan, is no one concerned that Norton's eyes are glowing/on fire?? while everyone else seems relatively normal he is just on fire LOL like:

Orpheus: "you've got something going on with your eye region" Norton: "what do you mean" 🔥👄🔥 Orpheus: ".........you know what? never mind"

---

Then for Ronald of Nice, I wonder if he gets a military pension 🤔especially if he was sent home early from being wounded (assuming the burns are from the war)

but on the more silly side, I wouldn't be surprised if he has piles of fan letters that he doesn't open lol just has them all piled on display to flaunt cause he doesn't care what people have to say pfff Enjoying the sheer amount of em Like Uncle Scrooge Mcduck and his money bath -WHEEZE-

---

Speaking of Scrooge Mcduck, that reminds me of Mr. Mole and how I think he genuinely views the moles, in his life, as his family.

Norton: "I want you to meet my family" Alice: "Oh wow, really?" -Norton picks up and holds out a group of moles in his hands- Alice: "Oh....wow...it is so good to meet you all" -internally sobbing😭- Norton: "oh they want to show you the family home, follow" -trying to squeeze through the tiny door at the base of a tree- -Alice watching in concern- "I......am not sure there will be enough room.." -Norton giving it his all to try and fit through- "don't be silly"

---

Okay I will put you out of your misery and talk about Magic Item Keeper 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Bro gives me those dragon in the dungeon vibes lol He doesn't care what side you're on, good or bad, if you're a professor or a student, nothing, if you eff with his items he is keeping, especially without permission, he will nuke ya LOL Like a ruthless librarian, you best not return the item you borrowed LATE worst of all DAMAGED (honestly good luck borrowing it in the first place LOL)

"DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO FIX THIS ITEM BEFORE?!??!?!?!??!?!"

which is funny that I think like that cause this skin has got to be one of his more unassuming ones

-WHEEEZZEEE- but don't underestimate a person who takes item keeping seriously, they can be so scaryyyyyy.

Like, look at him, he looks NICE not a SPECK of dust or grime NOTHING, SHINY, every piece looks enchanted honestly. Makes me think he takes this line of work more than seriously. Then there's that massive time piece, its there for a reason, DON'T BE LATE.

Which also makes me think he knows where everything is of every moment of everyday, boi got active chart updates going on in his brain, eyes reading and observing everything BUT the person in front of him LOL Honestly if you have his undivided attention you've effed up with something and pissed him off LOLL

and honestly he is likely the more powerful of the bunch. You don't put someone in charge of keeping all of these coveted magic items safe if they don't have the ability to keep them safe, ya know? bro likely op as hell but his only concern is caring for these items lol

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 3 @whumpmasinjuly-archive : "I deserved it"

Characters: Asset 84 and Asset 83

83 finds 84 after a "correction".

CW: conditioning, living weapons, injuries, punishment.

Asset 84 masterlist

Complex 27 masterlist

It was a few hours since 83 had last seen 84, they weren't sure if the details but they knew the other asset had been taken to Sergeant Munroe to be punished - and the fact that they were not back yet meant it must have been a serious punishment. Not that this was surprising, Colonel Carter, 84s handler, was particularly harsh and often had the Sergeant punish 84 for this that other assets got away with.

Concern gnawed at 83 as they walked down the corridor towards the labs. It was likely that 84 was in the medical wing or the recovery room. They couldn't possibly still be undergoing punishment… could they? No one, not even an asset, could endure that for so long. The thought made 83 quicken their pace.

Showing concern for another asset could be dangerous. It was vital that no one realized they were worried about 84’s welfare. As 83 approached the labs, they scanned the area. No one seemed to notice them as they moved silently through the halls. The security was tight, but stealth and subterfuge were part of 83’s training - a part the facility probably never thought 83 would use in this way.

83’s breath caught as they saw 84 slumped against the wall in the corridor, the usually composed and unyielding asset now reduced to a trembling figure, blood seaping through the back of their grey jumpsuit. 83 hesitated for a moment, scanning for any prying eyes before they hurried to 84's side, their heart pounding.

84's breathing was shallow and labored. With every inhale, their shoulders quivered slightly, the rhythm of their breath uneven and jagged. When 83 reached them, 84's head lolled slightly, eyes half-closed as if trying to escape the pain.

"84," 83 whispered urgently, crouching beside them and gently placing a hand on their shoulder. The skin beneath their fingers was hot and clammy, slick with sweat and blood. 84 flinched at the touch, a low, strained sound escaping their lips—a sound more primal than anything the facility’s rigorous training could stifle.

84’s eyes fluttered open, grey eyes glazed with pain. They blinked slowly, focusing on 83’s face, a faint recognition flickering in their expression.

"83?" 84 rasped, "You should not be here."

83 ignored the warning, instead they gently touched 84's shoulder, feeling the tension and pain radiating from their body.

"What did they do to you?" 83 asked softly.

84's gaze flickered toward 83, the usual sharpness in their grey eyes now clouded with agony. The muscles in their back twitched involuntarily, and their breath hitched as they attempted to speak through clenched teeth. "It is nothing," they managed, though their voice cracked and faltered. "I deserved it."

Despite the words, 83 could see the truth in 84's pained expression and the trembling that seemed to seep into their very bones. They could feel the heat radiating from 84’s body, the blood seeping through the torn fabric of their jumpsuit, slowly darkening the material and leaving a trail of evidence to the brutal reality of their treatment.

"Can you walk?" 83 asked, their concern barely masked by their calm tone.

84’s gaze dropped, the effort of lifting their head seeming monumental. They tried to push themselves up, but their limbs trembled uncontrollably, and they collapsed back against the wall, a ragged sigh escaping them. “I can manage,” they murmured, but the words were hollow.

83 glanced around once more to ensure no one was watching before slipping an arm around 84’s waist, gently helping them to their feet. “Come on,” 83 said softly, guiding them down the corridor.

As they began moving, each step was labored; 84's body swayed slightly, and their movements were sluggish, as if their very bones were weighed down by the pain.

They made their way to the medical wing with 83’s support, every step eliciting a grimace from 84. When they reached the door, 83 hesitated before pushing it open, the sterile smell of antiseptic hitting them like a cold wave. Inside, the room was empty, save for the cold, harsh lights that illuminated the clinical surroundings.

Gently, 83 guided 84 onto a bed, avoiding direct contact with their back as they eased them onto their stomach. The back of 84’s jumpsuit was peeled away to reveal a latticework of angry welts, each one a deep shade of red and purple. Some had split open, forming small pools of blood that slowly trickled down, leaving streaks of crimson on the bed.

84’s breath came in ragged gasps, their entire body trembling with the effort to remain still. Their eyes, normally sharp and unwavering, were now dulled with pain and exhaustion. Despite their insistence that they deserved the punishment, their physical state spoke volumes about the severity of their ordeal.

“what happened?” 83 asked quietly, as they carefully inspected the damage.

84’s eyes flickered with confusion. “it is nothing,” they repeated, “I deserved it."

"No, this isn’t nothing," 83 insisted softly, their frustration barely masked, "This is beyond what is reasonable."

84’s eyes closed momentarily, struggling to maintain composure. "I failed," they murmured, their voice wavering. "Failure... brings consequence."

83’s expression hardened with anger. "We are more than weapons. You’re worth more than this."

"I failed," 84 repeated, "a lesson in endurance was... Nessecary,"

83’s frustration flared. “We’re more than just weapons, 84.”

84 looked at 83, their gaze tired but firm. “You should not say things like that.”

83 glanced around to confirm their solitude. “But it’s true,” they said fiercely. “We are more than weapons.”

84’s head hung low, a shudder running through them. “We obey,” they whispered. “We endure. It is our purpose.”

[arleniansdoodles]

Here's some more post-true ending art for Sifu that I did a while back; I just never got around to posting it until now XD This time, it's Yang and the female MC with a yinyang theme!

From what I've seen, a lot of people in the Sifu fandom go with the idea that the MC is named Yin to match with Yang. I wholeheartedly love this idea, and it's part of the reason why I've been focusing on the female MC so much, because yin represents the feminine side while yang is masculine.

Also, for anyone wondering, MC is getting some much-needed spa treatment in the first painting loll

[ejzah]

hi! can i do a prompt request? I was just watching early seasons densi and thinking about how cute kensi is with monty and was thinking about how much deeks must've fell even more in love with kensi after seeing her being so cute with his baby hahaha so if you could write a little drabble of his inner thoughts while seeing her with monty i think it would turn up really cute!! btw, i really love your writing of these two, thank you 🤍🤍

A/N: I wasn’t sure if this was referencing a canon moment, but I decided to create my own. I also took this to mean early in the series, so it is set season 3ish. I hope you enjoy!

***

Woman’s Best Friend

“I’m telling you, Kensilina, you watch Moulin Rouge and your life will never be the same,” Deeks insisted as he unlocked his apartment door, a bag of takeout tucked under his arm. Kensi stood behind with their dessert.

“Yeah, that’s what you said about Hello, Dolly! too. I had the lyrics to “Before the Parade Passes By” stuck in my head for a week,” she replied grimly.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Winking at her, he pushed the door open and they were immediately greeted by an enthusiastic Monty. He gave Deeks a greeting lick to the knee, moving past him to jump at Kensi.

“Monty, down,” Deeks admonished softly and Monty immediately dropped down, looking suitably chastised. “Sorry, he usually has better manners than this, but I guess he’s excited to see you.”

“It’s ok,” Kensi said, stooping to rub the top of Monty’s shaggy head. “I see you’re in need of a haircut like your father.” She looked up with a smug grin.

“Hey now, I’ve had no complaints from the ladies.”

“Oh my god, ew.” Kensi pulled a face as expected, still petting Monty, who’d rolled over on his stomach, his head lolling to the side with a look of absolute delight.

“Ok Mont, let Kensi get up.”

Monty whined softly in protest, but got up and padded into the den where his bed sat next to the couch.

“That’s the most energetic he’s been in years,” he commented, shaking his head.

While Kensi fixed dinner—dumped Chinese onto plates and grabbed beers from his fridge—Deeks dug out his copy of Moulin Rouge. When they were all settled in on the couch, Monty raised his head, sniffing hopefully in their direction.

“Uh-uh, buddy. Sorry, but you know the rules. You stay off the couch when guests are over,” he told Monty, who dropped his head mournfully.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Kensi said, holding her hand out to him. Monty gave Deeks a brief look, then immediately ran over to her, hopping up l tl the couch between them,

“Alright then,” Deeks muttered, starting the movie.

About an hour later, Kensi’s eyes were glued to the screen as Christian and Satine’s tragic love story unfolded, a mostly empty plate on one side of her lap and Monty’s head on the other. Snuggled between them, Monty made the occasional sound of contentment as she stroked his head and back.

The other times Kensi had been over, Monty had been asleep or been too skittish to come out, so this was something of a revelation. Just like Deeks, Monty didn’t always get the best treatment based on his looks. It made Deeks’ heart swell a little bit to see Kensi love on him.

As he watched, Kensi bent down and kissed Monty’s head, ruffling his hair as she lifted her head.

“What?” she asked; it hadn’t even occurred to him to look away. Self-consciously, she wiped under her lip and glanced down at her shirt.

“Nothing. I just noticed you haven’t complained about the movie once,” he hedged. “You must like it.”

“Well, Ewan McGregor is cute and “Come What May” isn’t bad. The rest is a little weird though.”

“Sounds like a ringing endorsement to me.” Deeks grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes, reaching for another beer.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Deeks. Monty and I are withholding judgment for now,” she said firmly.

Deeks chuckled to himself, not commenting on the way Kensi tugged Monty into her side.

His partner was an absolute softie. And god did he love that about her.

***

A/N: Hope this was suitably fluffy and in the theme of what you pictured.

Thanks for the prompt!

[wildfloweroutlaw]

Self Care

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

pairing: Arthur Morgan X Reader

drabble: fluff, Arthur being a sweet soft boy, somewhat of an established relationship

summary: after a long day you decide to unwind with your nightly routine, which peaks Arthur’s interest.

a/n: i’ve literally never wrote anything outside of things for school but i’ve been wanting to get into writing more. so i had to do my first ever piece on my boy arty <3 this was just for fun, and if it’s terrible grammatically or otherwise i apologize! feel free to give pointers. i don’t think any descriptors are given for reader other than they wear makeup.

word count: 727 words, short and sweet.

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

Taking a seat at your desk you peer into the mirror, eyes scanning over your face. It had been a particularly hot day today, face still sticky with sweat, makeup a bit smudged. With towel in hand you began to wipe away the day, cleansing your skin of any makeup, dirt, grime or sweat. Following that up with your favorite part, moisturizer. Carefully you began to work the product into your skin, reveling in the refreshing feeling. So much so you failed to notice Arthur had been watching you.

His large frame was propped against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes curiously taking in your actions. “What‘chu doin darlin?”, his deep voice broke the silence of the room.

Hands still working away you answered, “nothin’… just a little pampering before bed”. There was a long pause as Arthur mulled over something or another.

“Could ya… could ya do me next?”, He shifted on his feet a bit, clearing his throat. He felt a little embarrassed for asking, though he knew he shouldn’t. Not with you at least.

Smiling to yourself in the mirror, you quickly hopped up and patted the seat where you once sat. “Sure, come sit”. Arthur made his way over and rather awkwardly plopped down in the chair, the wood creaking under his weight. You stifled a giggle, not wanting to add to any embarrassment. You’ve found over the past few months he’s actually quite shy. You plucked his trusty hat from his head, placing it on your own and took your place behind the chair. You wet a towel and began to go to work, giving Arthur the same treatment you did yourself.

“So… what’s this do?”, Arthur asked inquisitively eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

“Supposed to be good for your skin. Really it’s just relaxing and I always feel better when I spend a little extra time on myself.” you answered without pausing your motions. “And you got a pretty face Arthur Morgan. You should be taking good care of it”. You move around to the side to have better access to said pretty face.

At this he chuckled a bit, unable to see what you see. “Well I don’t know about all that. Jus’ looked nice is all…”, he said with a small shrug, eyes falling to study the various items strewn across your desk. Truthfully he still felt embarrassed about the situation. This wasn’t necessarily the most “macho” activity in the world, not that he felt he needed to be that persona around you but still. On top of that, he was taking time out of your night for this. He knows how hard you work and you must be tired. Was it selfish of him to ask?

“Close your eyes for me baby”, your tender voice brings him out of his spiraling thoughts, and he does as you say. Although, he still can’t get used to that pet name you’ve given him, and he felt the usual heat rise to his cheeks. You begin to massage the moisturizer into his skin, starting around his eyes and working your way up to his forehead and back down. The soft pads of your fingers glide over the scars on his nose and chin, you tel yourself you’ll have to kiss those later. You notice Arthur sigh softly, head lolling back slightly. “Feel good?”

“Mmmhmm… now I get why you like this”, he murmurs, eyes still peacefully closed, hands relaxed in his lap. It was nice seeing Arthur so at ease, so tranquil. Lord knows he carry’s the weight of the world and then some on his broad shoulders. A little bit of self care every now and then would do the man some good.

“Well Mr. Morgan you’re all done”, you say, wiping your hands off and moving around to the back of the chair. You gently run your fingers through his hair, sweeping it back. “What’d ya think?”

Arthur tilts his head back, beautiful blue green eyes staring up at you. “I think I could get used to that”. His large hand comes up to gently lift his hat off your head, placing it in his lap.

You chuckled slightly and leaned down to press a kiss to lips, then his cheeks, then his forehead, and then both scars as you had promised yourself. “That can very well be arranged”.

[cursivetalk]

Pay Attention To Me

Remington Leith X Fem!Reader

Requested by: @immrbrightsideeee

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (be safe!)

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You're bored and a little horny. Really, you just want Remington's attention

A/N: hope that's what you wanted, Love<3 I must admit, I had quite some fun with this one. Also unedited because I'm writing and posting right before I'm going to bed, sorry if the ending is a bit abrupt, I got impatient lol

"Hello there hot stuff," Y/N slithered around the corner, caught herself on the door frame to the living room with the piano and waggled her eyebrows, "come here often?"

Remington snorted and turned around on the stool. "I might with such a gorgeous- holy fuck."

The last part of the sentence was due to her attire. Or well, the fact that it was missing completely. Y/N was leaning against the frame now, arms crossed under her exposed boobs, pushing them upwards.

To be frank, she had been quite horny for a while now. At first, she had just waited for Remington to take a break and come looking for his girlfriend and maybe get a little fuck in between.

When that didn't happen, she had resorted to doomscrolling and somehow landed on the prank of filming your partner while surprising them naked. It seemed to work for the couples in the clips so Y/N figured that she could give it a try (minus the filming of course).

It seemed that it worked quite well. Judging on the size of Remington's eyes at least. He was taking his sweet time, just staring at her naked form, eyes travelling up legs, over her stomach, lingered on her boobs and then up to her face. She could almost feel it like he was running his hands over her skin, his gaze so intense.

"You're just gonna sit and stare?" Y/N prompted, her skin prickly and aching to be touched.

That finally shook the singer out of his stupor and spurred him into action.

Faster than she could follow with her eyes, Remington had her pressed against the cold wooden frame, the rough fabric of his jeans pushing at the sensitive skin of her thighs. His eyebrows were knitted together but a smile danced around the corners of his mouth. "You tease."

"Just the way you like-" it was her time to be interrupted now, though Remington had even more convincing ways to do so.

His lips were pushing against hers demandingly, open mouthed from the very start. Not that his hands were patient either. They roamed over her sides, around her back, pushing her closer, ghosting over her skin and never quite touching.

Y/N groaned into the kiss, half desire, half impatience. She darted out her tongue, meeting Remington's in a wet slide and arched into every caress.

For a while, Remington allowed for her to push and move closer into every touch that coaxed him for more. He even followed her obvious demand and took her breasts into his hands, massaged them and pinched first one then both of her nipples.

The rough treatment made her moan once more and Y/N could feel the wetness gathering between her legs already. Remington did as well as he pushed his right knee in between her thighs, pinning her in place. She knew she was dripping on his jeans and there was no way to stop it. The thought alone made her even hotter.

"So fucking wet already, Sugar," Remington mumbled in between two kisses.

Barely a heartbeat later, a long finger had found her clit. Y/N's knees almost gave out from the unexpected jolt of pleasure that his action sent through her core.

Her head lolled to the side while Remington started to draw tantalisingly slow circles on her clit, occasionally dipping down to run across her slit but never resting in one place. His lips nibbed at her jaw, trailed lower to her exposed throat and breathed against her neck. She shivered.

"You're so beautiful like this, writhing under me, already so desperate," he whispered, lowly; Remington's voice had pitched down into that rough grumble she knew he only for when turned on immensely.

The more surprising it came when all movements stopped at once.

For a few beats, the only sound was Y/N's laboured breaths and Remington's smirk as he looked down at her, still fully clothed, his hair a mess.

And then, just as fast as he had stopped, Remington dived back in. The kiss was almost bruising with how much lust, how much desire he put into it.

It was also distracting enough, that Y/N only realised that she was being picked up when her legs were already locked firmly around Remington's waist, her pussy making a mess against the front of his jeans. She couldn't help but thrust her hips into him, seeking the friction.

An ice cold surface under her ass jolted her out of her pleasure infused brain long enough to take a gasping breath.

Remington had sat her down on top of the piano. His shirt had gone lost on the way somewhere and he was in the process of opening his jeans when Y/N closed the gap between them again, attempting to catch him by surprise.

It didn't work quite like that but it certainly caught his attention. While Remington was reclaiming the dominance in their kiss with little bites at her lower lip and one hand coming up to twist her right nipple. She gasped into the kiss which gave him time to lower his head and start sucking on the very same nipple.

By the time Remington had gotten rid of his jeans and underwear, Y/N was practically trembling. His hands and mouth had never once stopped kneading her breasts and teasing her pussy even while undressing.

"I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk," he promised hotly, mouth just inches from hers, "feel you cum for me over and over as long as you can take."

The mere thought made her shiver. Remington fucking her to the brink of overstimulation, feeling him unbearably deep inside of her, exposed under his intense gaze, knowing that he would take care of her.

Remington followed his promises with actions immediately, the blunt tip of his cock pressing against her entrance. Y/N raised her hips in invitation and grabbed his hair at the same time.

With one long thrust, he pushed inside of her, her legs coming up to wrap around his hips to push him deeper, go faster. She needed him to go faster or she might just die.

Luckily, Remington picked up on it and didn't waist time with waiting. He knew that she would be able to take him so he started to build a rhythm immediately.

The first few strokes were controlled and slow, driving her mad with desire. Y/N dug her fingers into his scalp, panting. "Come on."

"As you wish," Remington was breathing faster too which made her ridiculously proud and turned her on to no end.

And then he started really fucking her. Quick, forceful strokes that sent sparks of pleasure down her spine to her core and made her toes curl.

After a while, kissing became too messy so Remington started mouthing at her throat again while Y/N was determined to suck at least one hickey into his shoulder. While she wasn't moaning of course.

Suddenly, his mouth closed around one of her nipples again, sucking, biting, and two strong fingers were drawing circles on her clit.

"C'mon, Sugar, cum for me," Remington moaned, the rasp in his voice making her impossibly wetter.

The combined forces of his hands, his mouth and his cock pushed her faster to an orgasm than she had thought possible. Every thrust, every push on the bundle of nerves was almost too much.

Remington's angle changed just a little bit and Y/N came screaming. For a few blinks, she could have sworn that the world had narrow down on just the two of us, just his cock buried so deeply inside of her, pushing right against that one spot until she couldn't breathe anymore. Her pussy was convulsing violently around his cock and she could feel him cumming as well after a handful of more strokes, her own orgasm forcing him into his.

"That enough attention for you?" Remington asked, panting.

They had been all but lying on top of the piano, trying to regain their breath when he had decided that he had to be the one on top in their conversation as well. For now, Y/N didn't really care. She was feeling far too good right now.

She also knew that they weren't done yet.

[twistedmusings]

Petting Dorm

A/N: I petted my cat for a good thirty minutes yesterday while I was watching the translation for the camp event and...surely the Savannaclaw members must like at least some pets, right? Like they must really want some pets after a good long hard day. Warnings: None, just descriptions of petting and three very happy boys u wu

The Savannaclaw members watch on as Grim gets the petting of a lifetime, wondering when the hell it is going to be their turn.

“Grim you are acting so spoiled.”

“Nyaha~! I deserve to be spoiled today! I aced my test while Ace and Deuce failed and me and Epel got a good grade in the potions assignment today!”

Grim leans back into your touch as you rub all the way to the tip of his ears before going right back down again. He lets out a happy grunt as his little foot starts to twitch, your hands now massaging right under his ears and near his cheeks before scratching right near the nape of his neck.

“Fgnaa...go a little lower!”

“Here?”

“Ah~! I really needed this. This is the reason I made you my henchman, [Y/N]”

“Because of how much I’m petting you?”

You press a kiss to Grim’s face, the other complaining for a moment before smiling as your finger rubs right on the top of his head. The two Ramshackle residents keep talking as they sit in the middle of the Savannaclaw lounge, many eyes staring at them but three sets of eyes in particular glaring at the cat currently laying his entire body on one of their pillows.

“[Y/N]-san...” Jack speaks up first as he watches Grim’s leg give another twitch, his eyes not even looking at you but focusing entirely on your hands.

“Hm?”

“Did you…” the wolf man can practically feel a shiver down his spine as you rub right under Grim’s ears, “Did you...uh...did you bring the assignment?”

“I did.” you play with Grim’s tail before running your hand up and down his back, “I thought you said you wanted to start when Ace and Deuce got here though.”

Leona growls when Grim lets out another satisfied sigh, watching your hands go right back up to play with his ears as you press the tips of them together and then watch them go back to their normal place.

“What is even keeping them so long?”

You shrug and rub a little circle right on Grim’s forehead, Ruggie following the movement with his head as he closed his eyes.

He could almost feel it--

Another slow and agonizing five minutes later and you sigh, shaking the shivers out of your hands as Grim is finally asleep, leg up in the air as you pull away from him and pull out your phone.

“Knowing those two they probably forgot…” you shake your head and stand up, “I’ll go get them--”

“NO!”

All Savanna claw members stand up as they lean towards you, eyes wide with different emotions as you do your best to understand their sudden outburst.

“What’s...what’s wrong?”

“You’re not leaving.”

You blink and point to the exit.

“I’ll only be gone for a couple of minutes, I’m not going to take long--”

“Sit down.”

It was frustrating that you couldn’t disobey this man even if you wanted to. The way he did anything was just so annoyingly confident that you weren’t even surprised when you simply sat down on whatever chair was available before Leona plopped himself in front of you and put his head on your lap.

“You have a lot of nerve petting that raccoon in front of me.” he glares at you before closing his eyes and leaning further back, ears twitching expectantly as you look down at him in, well, rather justified confusion.

“I’m...sorry?” you put your hands up and look at Jack and Ruggie, “I honestly do not know what to do, what is he talking about?”

You can practically feel Leona’s growl against you as he grabs your hands and puts them on his hair, letting your fingers reach deep into the dark waves as he visibly relaxes and lets you go.

“Whatever the hell you did to that cat monstrosity you better do for me...and if it isn’t as good that it makes me fall asleep in five minutes then I’ll be using you as one of my pillows.”

What...the hell?

Your eyes look over at Ruggie and Jack but they don’t even seem to be paying attention to you, simply looking on as you start to do some of the things you remembered doing for Grim.

He smiles as the petting finally starts, his ears being played with gently before your hands rub the tips and press them flat on his head. They give a solid twitch as they pop back up, twitching once again as they pick up your slight chuckling.

Now he understood why the raccoon had been so vocal about this treatment. Feeling your hands reach right under his ears and scratch made him let out a happy groan, tilting his head back as he gave you more room to play with.

You scratch the back of his head with one hand while the other does little cross shapes on his forehead, Leona opening his eyes to watch you work so diligently on putting him to sleep.

“Is this something you do every day for that thing?”

“His name is Grim.” you say and go back to playing with his ears, “And no, not all days. Only when he does really good.”

Leona closes his eyes as he moves his head to the right as your fingers scratch one spot in particular.

“Is that all it takes?”

“Yeah...I mean it keeps him motivated.”

He stays quiet for a few seconds before speaking up again.

“I stayed awake during one of Crewel’s lectures.”

You stop scratching to look down at him, amazed at what he just told you.

There was no way that was true.

“Awake?”

“Uh-huh.”

“As in fully awake? Listening to the lecture awake?”

“Uh-huh.”

“...what was the lecture about?”

Leona yawns and opens one eye to look at you.

“Advanced Magical History.”

You frown knowing for a fact that you cannot quiz him on anything since you still weren’t in that class. The reason for him telling you this was lost on you for a moment before you looked down in surprise and realized what this really was about.

No way...

Had he told you about that...just to justify you petting him?

“That’s really good Leona-senpai” you test the waters carefully, running your hand through his hair as he tilted his head back so he could feel the pull of your hands a bit more. Your eyes widen when the dorm leader nods along to the rather shallow praises you were sending his way.

“I didn’t know you were such a hard worker.”

“Mmmhm.”

“Or able to stay awake for so long.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I always thought you were just a lazy lion who liked to sleep all day.”

“Mmmmmm.”

It takes your entire will of strength to not laugh at Leona’s face. This man usually had his guard up so much that no one could ever get a read on him but give him some scratches and he opened up like a kitten to a new owner?

You knew you had blackmail material in your hands but the prospect of using it was still rather terrifying.

Leona’s threats should never be taken lightly.

You finish by rubbing his ears and letting go, the dorm leader’s head lolling forward as you stand up and grab whatever cushion you can get your hands on and putting it under his head so that you can lay him on the ground softly.

That was...weird.

“...I’m going to get Ace and Deuce now. If we don’t finish this assignment we are going to be screwed."

“[Y/N]!”

What should he say? He had just called your name out randomly and put himself in danger of waking up Leona. Dammit think of something, Ruggie!

He seems to come up with an answer as his usual playful smile comes back, standing up and walking over to you as his tail wags slightly.

“I can go get them for you.”

You smile and take his hands, shaking them twice before plopping yourself down on another available seat.

“Ruggie-senpai you are so nice! I think they might be at Heartslabyul? Ace might have dragged Deuce in on a game of cards or they most likely got caught doing something they shouldn’t. If you have any problems just text--Ruggie-senpai?”

Blue gray eyes look up at you, Ruggie’s trademark smile shining up at you as he giggles.

“Shishishi...you really think I wouldn’t do this without a price, [Y/N]-san?”

He grins and grabs your hands again, putting them right under his ears as he closes his eyes.

“Ruggie-senpai our assignment--!”

“Five minutes! That’s plenty of payment for the walk I’m about to do all the way to Heartslabyul!”

“It isn’t that long of a walk!?”

Ruggie shrugs as moves his head so that it is at the most comfortable position on your lap.

“Hm, but I also will have to walk all the way back to Savannaclaw so maybe it should be ten…”

You should stop talking at this point or else the times were going to go up higher, your hands getting to work as you scratch right in between his ears, Ruggie’s grin melting into a satisfied smile as you dug your fingers into his hair and started to scratch right under his scalp which earned you a giggle.

This sort of petting was so different than the ones he would use to get in the Afterglow. Just some slum kids trying to give each other love and affection because in the end, they all needed it after a hard day. Petting someone like this was a sign of close friendship and even romance, if done with that intent, but Ruggie never thought humans would be any good at it.

Yet the way your hands rubbed small circles right on his forehead, the very action you had done to Grim, he was still surprised he was half awake and not falling asleep on your lap.

“Mmm...is there anything else that needs to get done, [Y/N]?”

You smile when you see him so relaxed, surprised at how comfortable he looked. This hyena ran around the school doing errand after errand and getting buck after buck. It was almost inspiring if it wasn’t for the fact that some of his dealing weren't necessarily...legal?

Not like you knew about law in Twisted Wonderland so you let it pass.

“Not really, not for me anyway.”

Ruggie pouts but still melts when you run your fingers through his hair, starting right at his forehead and working all the way to the back. His ears twitched as you rubbed the tips before pressing both of them together.

“Well I am not charging for the walk back but if you want me to wrangle up those two first years I should charge a bit more, so when I come back I want what Leona-san got--”

“Ruggie-senpai it’s been five minutes.”

Jack’s tail is curled around him while he looks away, his eyes only barely making contact with yours as he looked at Ruggie and then back at, well, nothing.

Ruggie clicks his tongue before standing up and shrugging.

“Fine. I guess I will take that as a down payment.” he grins at you, “I will take the full payment later!”

You want to ask just what kind of payment he was talking about but you decide to keep quiet because that man would find some way to convince you that, yes, you do owe him something and that your payment was going to not be your money but your time.

And you didn’t have a lot of that to be spending it all in one place.

He walks off and you lean back, smiling as your hands finally get a break. Grim’s fur was always so silky and if you were to compare it you would say it was the same as Leona’s hair but Ruggie’s was definitely a bit more rough. It wasn’t a bad sort of rough but you figured this was the difference between long haired and short haired animals.

Although since Leona was a lion wouldn’t he also have short hair? Or was his hair more like his mane?

And what about Jack?

You turn towards your friend, tilting your head as you catch him staring.

“I don’t know why but I always feel like I have to apologize for Ace and Deuce, Jack. Maybe it’s because I met them first?”

He shakes his head, “You shouldn’t apologize for their actions.”

“Well they are also my friends so...I figured I could do this much for them.”

You wiggle your fingers in front of your face as you send Jack a teasing smile, “Want me to pet you too?”

The wolf’s tail goes right up before Jack pushes it back down with a growl, his cheeks burning a beautiful bright red as he answers back.

“We should just wait for Ace and Deuce, I want to get this assignment done already.”

“Me too. But it’s going to be a few minutes before they come back.”

“Oi!”

You are already standing up when Jack complains, telling you that you really didn’t need to do any sort of things like that for him and that he was perfectly fine and didn’t want to get distracted--!

“You’re the only one who didn’t force me to pet him, Jack. Just relax and unwind!” you smile and sit right behind him and open your legs so that you could pull him back and let his head rest on your stomach. His neck now burns bright red as you scratch right under his ears which only served to make his leg bounce slightly while he slowly got accustomed to your touches.

He wondered if you would pet him when he was using his unique magic as well, although knowing him he would get on his back and present his stomach if it started feeling this good and he didn’t want Ace, Deuce or even you teasing him about it! It wasn’t that his was enjoying this to that point--!

It’s just that somehow you knew just what spots to scratch and for how long to scratch them that he was starting to feel weak.

“Hm. So you would be a long hair…” you mutter to yourself as Jack closes his eyes, pressing his cheek against your palm as you rub circles right on his temples, “I think I like your hair the most...but maybe I’m just playing favourites here.”

The wolf wants to ask you a bit more about him being your possible favourite from the Savannaclaw dorm but his jaw snaps shut when he sees his dorm leader start to get up, glaring at the two of you with a dry smile.

“So you’re the favourite, huh?”

Jack blinks as he looks back at you and then at Leona.

“Leona-senpai--!”

The lion moves closer as he presses his body right against Jack’s shoulder, grabbing one of your legs and putting it over his own shoulder so that you would fit both of them in between.

“Ow--! Owowowowow--I’m not that flexible, Leona-senpai!!”

“He got his turn and now I want another one. Get to work, herbivore.”

“Hey!”

The three of you look to see Ruggie pointing an accusatory finger in your direction.

“What are you hogging [Y/N] for! They still owe me! Move over!”

He shoves at Jack’s unoccupied shoulder, trying to make his way into the little nest as you feel your other leg being raised up--!

“Stop! What in the world do you think I am--and where is Ace and Deuce!?”

Ruggie blinks before looking around.

“Oh right...I was supposed to go get them.”

[wri0thesley]

I'd love to request more Naoya smut with him and a now pregnant!reader from that breeding fic because him busting a nut thinking about how good they'll look knocked up really made me feel some type of way!!! maybe reader-chan will even finally get a smooch from this HORRIBLE man. If you are not into doing continuations on requests no worries tho and thank you for your incredible writing as always, Nat!

reader can have a little smooch. as a treat. don’t let naoya hear you say he’s not a good husband <3

Expecting - Naoya x Fem!Reader (3.3k)

Both of you got what you wanted. Naoya got more than he bargained for. sequel to covet.

warnings: not sfw, minors dni! afab reader, fem pronouns. pregnancy sex, light lactation, misogyny, power imbalance, breeding kink, mentions of alcohol, naoya perhaps having some Feelings???.

[comments/reblogs are much appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

Naoya catches you every so often for the next month and you easily roll onto your back for him, helpless under the brush of his fingers and the snap of his hips. He smirks at you when he passes you in the corridor, but you have nothing to show for all of the times you’ve warmed his bed – yet.

When you do, though – when a month and a half passes, and you are beginning to feel sick in a morning, and your monthly bleed has still not made itself known – you go to Naoya with deference in your eye. Once a servant, always a servant – and you are not stupid. You know that what you carry inside you is a bargaining chip.

Naoya wants someone who will submit, and you want an end to the life of drudgery and roughened hands and back-breaking work, of being ignored or reviled or mocked for having the misfortune to not be born with Zenin as a surname. Naoya takes you to a private, discreet physician with an iron grip on your arm and his light eyes sharp.

It’s amazing, how quickly a man like Naoya Zenin can set things in motion – when it’s not simply confirmed that you’re carrying his child, but that you’re carrying his son. His heir.

It’s so easy for him.

Suddenly you are no longer a maid, but Naoya’s betrothed – and though the other members of the household look at you in disgust, knowing that you spread your legs for the title, none of them dare risk Naoya’s ire by being outright rude to you. He and his family spin it like silk; not that Naoya took advantage of a servant, but that you have been part of some grand, beautiful Cinderella story – that Naoya is in love with you.

(It’s probably for the better that the Zenins prefer servants who can see cursed spirits, at the very least – if you had not had any kind of talent for jujutsu, who knows what would have happened to you? Naoya would not have risked his son being born utterly ordinary).

And then you are Naoya’s wife. It wouldn’t do, of course, for the future head of the family to have his heir and son born out of wedlock, even if society have progressed enough that you falling pregnant with said son was before the betrothal. The latter is a disgrace; the former is a laugh over a cup of sake in the dark, a toast to Naoya’s virility, a wink-wink-nudge-nudge at how lucky Naoya is to have found someone who gives themselves up so utterly and completely and easily, including their virtue--

You know that Naoya is not in love with you. You are fairly certain that the only thing Naoya loves is his name, and the power imbued therein. Still. You share a bed with him, and you’re given silken kimonos and pretty hair ornaments and anything that you ask for, and you are . . .

Respected is not quite the right word. Not for a woman who is Naoya’s. Certainly, he does not respect you.

But you are not reviled, not ignored, not beholden to the demands of your betters. Now, you are one of the betters, and if your fellow servants are frustrated that they have to bow to you in deference, they do not dare show it knowing that if you asked Naoya, he would have them punished for the transgression.

You had perhaps thought that once you were bearing his child, Naoya would lose interest in you. You know as well as anyone that nobody would bat an eyelid at Naoya seeking his pleasure somewhere else; it’s almost expected of him to have a mistress, a concubine, to go and sow his wild oats just in case the one he has placed inside of you does not yield the crop expected--

But he doesn’t.

Naoya hates you out of his sight. He is always touching you; hands sliding over your hips, cupping where your bump has become soft and round and pronounced, snapping servants to attention if he thinks you look tired or wan or pale. You accompany him almost everywhere. He looks up from speaking to his father to seek you out, as if to reassure himself that you are still there – and some tension in his shoulders seems to drain away.

He is still Naoya, of course.

You are still swiftly reprimanded by him if you speak out of turn, he still gets servants to do anything for you so he doesn’t have to do it himself, you still walk three steps behind him with your head bowed unless he bids you to do something else – but as time goes on, and your hips widen and your stomach grows and you feel the baby kick, something in him softens.

And something else hardens.

His desire on your flesh, on your form, does not wane. You grow used to the feeling of tangled silken bedsheets below you, of Naoya’s handsome face above you, of the groan and the whine as he spills himself inside of you for the third time that night. And you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

That initial thrill, of being wanted by someone like Naoya, doesn’t fade at all, even though you too are now bowed to in the corridors and the people below you have to jump at your command. And Naoya is not cruel for no reason. Despite the arrogance in his tone, the condescension that drips off of his slow, drawling words, the particular way he has of raising one eyebrow and letting his gaze crawl over you – you have come to enjoy being his.

You did not want equality, after all. You knew your place.

You just wanted better – and Naoya has provided you that in spades.

He’s got his arms spread out over the pillows, his shoulders strong, his eyes hungry as he watches you strip off the kimono you have been wearing today. Your wardrobe now is the height of luxury; all beautiful embroidery, delicate colours, fabrics that cost more than your former monthly salary. Kimono are not made to cling to your body; though people can tell that you are pregnant, it does not over-emphasise your hips or the newly swollen, heavy breast, or the curve of your stomach. Those are things that Naoya never tires of seeing, as the fabric pools around your ankles and the hadajuban is discarded and so are your underwear, and you stand before him utterly bare and unmistakably carrying his child.

“Stay there,” he says, “let me look at you.”

You are a good, well-trained, obedient thing. You stand there as Naoya’s gaze roves over you, straying over and over again to where your hips have filled out even more, where your stomach is curved – where your breasts have begun to droop a little from how heavy and swollen with milk they are. He sighs as he looks you over, and it is the sigh of a man who is indeed very pleased with his work.

“You can move,” he says. He moves the covers off of him, and you are not surprised to see that he is bare; that his cock is already stirring, heavy and thick between his thighs. “Come.” He crooks a finger at you, and you are grateful to be able to move, to take the weight off your ankles as you’re permitted to sit on the bed beside him. His arms wrap around you – they are strong, and certain, and he holds you like you are his property.

Which you suppose you are. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder and he makes a soft huff of amusement, but doesn’t say anything about how brazen you are. You are permitted some special favours, now that you are Naoya’s, and now that you are fulfilling your purpose so beautifully.

Naoya’s lips brush your ear, his tongue lapping at the curve of your neck, the joint between throat and shoulder. You sigh prettily, the warmth of his mouth on you making you shiver. One of his hands curls around your breast, enjoying the heavy weight of you in his hand. Thumb and forefinger gently pinch your nipple.

He was rough with you the first time, but now he treats you like porcelain – and the idea that you are precious to Naoya Zenin sets your stomach aflame, makes your breath stick in your throat. He tugs at it softly, coaxing you to sigh, a drop of liquid leaking from the sensitive nub as you squirm backwards into his lap. His tone is lightly warning as he says;

“Come on, be good. It’s a good sign, sweetheart.”

He calls you sweetheart in front of other people and the ones who have bought this rags-to-riches Cinderella story exchange looks that say ‘isn’t she lucky?’. You hear the light edge in it, the smirk, the loftiness – but it always seems to break into something that’s almost fond, when he’s inside you and touching you and his teeth bite into your neck.

“Just that your body is doing what it’s supposed to do,” your other nipple is subjected to the same treatment, and you feel Naoya’s breath hitch, his cock stir behind you and dig into the small of your back. “I think the moment he’s in his nursery I’m going to fuck another son into you, dearest.”

“Mm?” You say, a little breathless as his hand goes lower. He sweeps his palm over the curve of your stomach, pausing where the skin is tight and swollen. His cock twitches once more at the reminder of how utterly his you are, and how wonderfully you are doing your purpose. How lucky he is, to have found someone submissive and well-trained and obedient and sweet, who looks so luscious full of him.

You drive him to distraction even when you don’t realise he’s looking at you.

“Thighs apart,” he grunts, into your ear, and you comply with the docile nature of someone raised to serve. He loves that about you. Loves, too, when he dips his fingers between your legs and your slick coats his digits, a soft whine catching in the back of your throat as he circles your clit and little shocks spark all through you, making you almost clamp your thighs back around his hand.

You do not, though. You are well-behaved. And you and Naoya have played this game enough times that you know that this is leading to relief for both of you.

One of his long fingers slides inside of you and you widen your thighs more, your soft whimper breaking and pitching – it’s such a servile, sweet little noise that Naoya cannot help but crook his finger, let it rub against the textured spot on your inner walls that has you clenching and gasping.

Since your pregnancy, you have become so sensitive. Naoya is the kind of man who hates working to pleasure a woman – who considers your orgasm a choice, and his a foregone conclusion. But with you swollen and full with his seed, he is slow and indulgent – and it is so easy, now that a brush of his palm makes you shiver and a tug of his teeth on your earlobe makes you gasp.

The finger is pulled out of you, and Naoya raises it to your lips, hooking his finger inside so you open your mouth and let him press your own slick onto your tongue.

Your tongue gently suckling at his finger reminds him of the insistent pounding of need inside of him; the stiff cock, leaking pre-come. He’d gotten so distracted touching you and enjoying you he’d almost forgotten about his own pleasure, and he sighs as he props himself up on pillows and reaches for you.

“Get comfortable,” he tells you.

His preference is to have you beneath him; that, he thinks, is his wife’s proper place. But it has begun to be difficult, with your stomach so distended – and he is nothing, he thinks to himself with more than a touch of smugness, if not an indulgent provider. A good husband.

(That’s what he thinks, anyway. You are not hurt. You get pretty things, and him in your bed, and the estate’s servants at your beck and call, an expensive wedding ring on your finger and the honour of his name affixed to yours, and his seed taking root inside of you. What else could you ask of him?)

So you are permitted to spread your knees, to climb on top of him – to gently sink your tight, wet, heat about his cock and seat yourself comfortably on the muscle of his thighs and the flat planes of his stomach.

“If you had my view,” he says, teasingly. “Mm, you were really made as breeding stock, weren’t you?” The words make heat rush to your face as he cups your hips in his hand again, squeezing the new covering of plush flesh that you’ve acquired since your pregnancy. “My wife.”

The words send a quiet thrill through you. You sigh as he bottoms out, as your body meets his entirely; your hands splaying on his shoulders. He is not flat against the bed – that position is too weak, not fitting for a man of his stature. But he is propped up with pillows behind him, so that he can admire how you look as your teeth bite into your plump bottom lip and you lift yourself just a little off his straining cock, before letting yourself fall back down.

He lets you set the pace. If you are to be permitted to ride him, he thinks, you may as well be the one doing all of the work. Part of him, too, is afraid of touching you too much – of hurting you, when you have something so precious inside of you. He would not admit that to himself – that’s not a thought process befitting of someone of his stature. But . . . it nibbles at the corners of his consciousness.

He cares about you. He does not want to hurt you. He does not want you to be uncomfortable – not when you are doing such a good job, when you are so lovely for him, when he is so grateful to have found you--

It’s no more than I deserve, he reminds himself.

And to brush back thoughts that are not proper for his elevation station in life, he lets himself watch the bounce of your breasts. Lets his fingers dig into the even softer, rounder thighs. Enjoys the sight of your mound bouncing on his cock, the feel of your slick walls clinging to his cock.

You are so beautiful, swollen with his child.

It is the first time he has ever looked at a woman and saw power in them. There is, he thinks, a power in what you have – in the glow about your skin, the brightness of your eyes, the curves and roundness and soft, supple flesh. The thought almost frightens him – but then, you push up again and your eyes meet his own for just a moment and he remembers that you are swollen with his child and have the power of him inside of you, and it becomes comforting.

Without him, you’d be nothing.

So he watches you with hungry eyes as you move your hips on his cock; as his length sinks inside of you, as you angle yourself just so – so that every stroke of your hips makes his cock rub against the place inside you that earlier had you seeing stars. Your breath is getting faster and faster, your fingers on his shoulders flexing as the tight string of your release is wound inexorably closer and closer.

Naoya allows himself a groan; a light thrust of his hips, in time with your own. The chase of your warm, tight walls as you try and pull away. He lets his gaze wander to how his cock is coated in your slick, all wet and shining in the light of the bedroom – and he is once more reassured. This is his. You are his. This wetness, this need – this is all for him. The way your body has changed is because of him.

His own release is creeping up on him.

Today, though, he decides he will be merciful – he reaches forward , curving his fingers just so, so that he can toy with your clit as you continue to fuck him. He rolls the bud with the pad of his fingers (soft; he wields just one weapon, and most people do not get to see it. Most of his harder work is done with his technique, and you have seen him apply expensive hand cream to keep himself handsome), knowing your body as well as he knows his own.

He prides himself on that, and you have spent enough nights in his bed that it is second nature to him. Women are predictable, he thinks, smirk on his face as your channel clenches around his hard cock and you come, whimpering out his name--

(In bed, he prefers Naoya-sama, and you are a good wife. Your tone is servile, soft, obedient – and in return, Naoya is almost sweet to you.)

He thrusts his hips roughly up into you, chasing his own release as your body spasms and trembles about him. You are still so tight; so hot and taut where the aftershocks are making you tremble. It’s the sight of your body, quivering under your release, that does it in the end.

Your hips and stomach and breasts and thighs, all rounded with the miracle of bearing life. All softened and plump; meek and pliant, a perfect little wife. His perfect little wife.

As he feels the tension inside of him snap, one of his hands winds about the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Naoya’s grunt of pleasure is lost in the kiss, his mouth against yours hard and hungry. He is not willing to give up his dominance even here – but . . .

He has not kissed you so intimately before.

He has always avoided your mouth, preferring his lips on your chest or neck – turning your face away if it had seemed you might go for his mouth (later on, he had not bothered – he knows you well enough now to know that you would not dare.)

He tastes like wine. Like fancy, expensive sweets; the kind that you could have never afforded before you were his, but he has had at his disposal for his whole life. Like a cross between freedom and a prison--

He groans as he fills you up; his cock twitching, shooting out thick ropes of his come to land thick and heavy in your insides. Your whimper at the sensation is lost in his mouth, but Naoya fails to miss it – the fingers around the nape of your neck stroke through your hair, almost comforting, as he pulls back from you.

His lips are shiny, full and pretty. The grin that he gives you is crooked – and though you know it should not, though you know you should hate him for being arrogant and cruel and considering you lesser than him, the grin sends a rush of affection all through you.

If you were sentimental, you would say that the affection is mirrored in his own pale eyes.

(Naoya is glad you are not; you cannot see, beneath the triumph that you are claimed and carrying his heir and the hunger for your body and the pleasure that you are exactly the kind of wife that he wanted, that perhaps he does care about you.)

“My little wife,” he says, and he brushes his thumb over your cheek, hot with the rush of blood. “You’re so good for me.”

And you’ll carry on being so.

You’re so lovely when you’re expecting.

[hisoknen]

Hello!! I found your blog a couple of weeks ago, and your Gojo x reader x Megumi idea got my brain thinking... what about a Yuji x Reader x Megumi experimental threesome?? Learning the favorites between the boys: wet and wild vs. calm and collected 🥰❤️ aged up of course! Sorry if I missed if requests are closed!

this is so late but hopefully you still see it!

warnings: threesome, oral, throat fucking, overstim, fingering, needy yuji and flustered reader idk how to tag this it’s pretty soft and i can’t just slap a noncon tag so i’m lost 😂

It’s not as though you weren’t satisfied. 

You were spoiled.

Megumi asked if there was anything you wanted to try out and you playfully mentioned a threesome with Yuji. You knew it was a mistake the moment it left your lips. He clammed up for the rest of the night, brushing off your apologies and got ready for bed early. No matter how much you tried to talk to him and take it back, assure him that he was more than enough for you, he told you it didn’t bother him before rolling over to sleep. 

It’s not like you even thought of it often, it just popped into mind one night and you entertained the idea for a while. You never actually wanted to pursue it, but was it bad to dream about it? 

— 

You glance up at Megumi as Yuji’s hot mouth rests between your legs, his eyes flicker back to your core drawing your attention to Yuji’s waiting gaze. The moment your eyes connect he dives into your center, a deep exhale from his nose against your flesh sends your thoughts tumbling. When his tongue swirls around the bud your head falls back against the pillow, fingers sifting through the sheets to find something to hold onto. 

Yuji’s pace is animalistic and intense, aggressive yet affectionate. His arms wrap around your thighs before you can pull away. Megumi guides you down the length of his cock, his shallow thrusting drawing you away from the sharp burn of practiced fingers plunging into your cunt. 

When you glance down you see Yuuji’s lips glossed with your arousal, his brows furrowed, watching intently as his fingers curl inside of you, breath ghosting over your swollen clit before suctioning his lips around the bundle of nerves. 

“This is what you wanted?” A low voice coos from above you, a thumb brushing past your lips. You hum as something falls against your lips, swiping your tongue out to taste. “Wanted both of us all this time?”  

Megumi’s hands are at the back of your head in an instant, propping you against the pillow and laying his cock in your lips. You want to respond. Want to tell him that you hadn’t, that you just wanted him. But all you can do is lazily drink in their treatment of you, relishing in the way they complement and contrast one another. Megumi’s soft praise and affection, cascading you in warmth as Yuji’s tongue laves at your center insistently, groaning and sending vibrations through your body with intensity. 

Two soft taps against your cheek bring you back to Megumi who is staring back at you expectantly. Happily you loll out your tongue, choking down his length as he feeds it to you inch by inch. You would never be able to forget this. You never wanted to forget this. The sound of their moans rolling in tandem, the heat of their hands, their desperation. 

All for you. 

You moan around his cock as Yuji's mouth disappears from your center, his fingers still pistoling inside of you. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of his cock resting at your thigh. The moment that it prods against your glistening folds Megumi thrusts roughly into your throat, holding the back of your head firmly in place as you choke and push against his thighs to escape.

“Can I?” Yuji looks up at Megumi in a daze, talking to him as though you aren’t the one who he’s about to thrust into. With tears clouding your vision you stare up at Megumi to find him nodding before feeling Yuji slowly sink into you. The stretch burns, his cock hot and thick splitting you open.

[hoe-doroki]

On the Job pt. 2

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, fuck or die sex pollen (which means there are noncon/dubcon elements), reader is a sex worker, masturbation, face fucking, temperature play, (light) pain play, biting

pairing: todoroki x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

summary: Super human society has a secret. Aphrodisiac quirks aren’t just the things of porn and fantasy–they’re actually quite common and too often fall into the wrong hands. Heroes, of course, do the best that they can, but when they get hit, they must be taken off the line of duty and someone needs to be able to activate the quirk’s release condition. If they’re single, who might that someone be? Obviously, you.

a/n: Half of me didn’t actually think that I would follow up part one, but I feel a heavy obligation towards my fanfic promises so...this is a weight off my shoulders, lol.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

You’d gotten the call early today.

Not early in the day—truth be told, you’d hardly known what time it was before picking up the phone. No, you got the call early. As in not last minute. The call saying that your client would have to be transported to the agency from on site and they could tell you the details in the meantime.

The call saying you’d better drive to the agency, because you had to service a hero in an hour.

Now, patience wasn’t usually your virtue of choice—actually you didn’t often tend towards virtues in general. Save perhaps for kindness, which you preferred to deal out on your knees or your back, augmented by praise and the generosity of offering all three of your holes for your clients’ needs. But you were happy to cultivate it today, because an early call meant one thing.

You knew who was coming today.

Your pants were already off and you shirt was pushed up over your breasts as you leisurely played with yourself. You’d licked the tips of your fingers and gotten them started with slow passes over your clit, the other hand pinching your nipple, just a little too hard in prep for a hero who’d probably give it to you rough.

Maybe your reaction wasn’t right. Maybe it wasn’t kind of you to be so relaxed—relaxed and eager, actually—over the news that it was possible that Pro Hero Shouto would die. That he’d been hit with the particularly high stakes brand of aphrodisiac quirk and that if you didn’t trigger the release condition—that was: hot and heavy sex—his heart may very well stop or whatever happened on the other side of these troublesome quirks.

You wouldn’t know. After all, you hadn’t lost a single client yet.

So perhaps that was cold of you. Perhaps it would be more virtuous for you to be worried about him, fretting on the other side of the door with the guards over his ETA.

Then again, as stated: you’d never been one for virtue. Sin was much more fun. And surely it was better to make sure that whenever Shouto did show up, you had a wet pussy that he could waste none of his precious time sinking his cock into.

You groaned at the thought, dipping two fingers from your clit into your cunt and scissoring them. Your head lolled back against the pillows, eyes fluttering closed as you pressed against that front wall the flats of your fingertips, feeling that soppy wetness covering you and beginning to drip down your knuckles.

Yeah, you were ready for him.

In fact, you’d been waiting for Shouto longer than just today. After nabbing the number two pro hero, Dynamight, a few months back, you’d gone ahead and debased yourself  further—how much further was there to go, though, really?—by creating a list of your dream clients. You’d written Dynamight just to check him off, the memory of him cumming in you raw and licking you clean still hot between your thighs.

Your near encyclopedic knowledge of heroes—naturally, you took a healthy interest in your job—had then led you to daydream about Dynamight’s whole hero cohort. You added Red Riot to the list, dreaming of his abs, imagining riding them, teasing sweet whines out of him before backing up and dropping yourself on his cock. You thought of Deku, what it would mean for your ego to nab the number one hero, the flash of jealousy that would rise on his face when you let it slip that you’d already fucked his biggest rival, fucked his goddamn brains out and yours to boot.

Of course, you couldn’t do that. NDAs, after all. You’d already signed away your rights to mentioning anything about what happened to or with Shouto today. Still, you could dream.

Then, of course, your thinking had truly devolved, and you’d thought about the boys being paired up, fighting a villain with an unknown quirk only to be hit by the ever common, ever unknown—thanks to you and your prudence; oops, there was another virtue—aphrodisiac quirk and having to take care of both of them. Spit-roassting, Eiffel Tower, a goddamn daisy chain—anything. Long story short, you’d ended up cumming twice more on your hands before the evening was done.

But also on that list, was Shouto Todoroki.

Who, if you weren’t mistaken, was now on the other side of the door.

After all, these walls weren’t soundproof. It provided quite the show for the lucky guards on the other side, but hey, if you needed to scream for help, they had to be there. By the same coin, you could hear the shuffling on the other side, the footsteps approaching, and the telltale sound of the lock on the door being activated. You pressed your legs together, resting them to the side, hiding your glistening pussy artfully with your legs for the sake of modesty. Everyone knew what was happening here, but you didn’t need to send Shouto’s poor handler back blushing to their colleagues.

Shouto was ushered into the room and, without eye contact, someone yelled to you, “Ready, ma’am?”

“Ready!” you called back, and the door was closed, leaving you alone with the number three hero.

Without modesty, your legs fell open, revealing the mess you’d already made of yourself to Shouto. You dipped the fingers you’d been using into your mouth, and cleaned them dutifully. After all Shouto was still wearing his costume, and you did so hate the agency having to send those to the cleaners with your fluids all over them.

“Hey, bud,” you purred, running a hand slowly up one thigh. “I heard you have a problem.”

Pro Hero Shouto was known for his stoic personality. News conferences and interviews he participated in always consisted of a slow, even tone, and little beyond cold facts. There was something pleasantly mysterious about that, sure, but it didn’t exactly hint that he’d be quick to jump into bed. Sexy voice, though.

But whatever quirk he’d been hit with must have been strong, because the next thing you knew, the index finger from his left hand was tracing down the front of his uniform, cleanly burning a line straight to his already tented crotch. His accessories had already been taken off—his belt, gloves, shoes, even the clasp at his neck had been undone earlier. So there was nothing in his way as he pulled either side of his scorched uniform to the side and off his arms as he approached the bed.

“All business, huh?” you asked, pushing yourself up off your pillows by your forearms, watching as Shouto climbed onto the bed on his knees, finally pulling his jumpsuit down past his crotch.

You’d taken a bet with yourself on the color of his pubes—it’s not like you’d be losing either way if you got to see them. They turned out to be dual-colored, but not the stark red and white of his hair. No, they were more neutral in tone, like yours. Unlike yours, they were nested above a heavy cock, already shining with precum—or actual cum, you didn’t know—at the head.

Shouto didn’t reply to your comment, and you weren’t surprised. Some people went totally nonverbal when hit by sex pollen quirks, and that was fine. You’d rather someone button their lip than ruin the mood by saying something off, after all. All business was fine by you—this was your job, after all. And no matter the size of his mouth, his cock was just fucking right.

You naturally lowered your legs as Shouto began kneeing over you, cock in hand. Your brain only just managed to catch up to what was going on when his legs stopped on either side of your ribs, his leaking cockhead crossing your eyes before you. Automatically, your jaw dropped open, and Shouto’s cock smeared pre against your cheek and the corner of your mouth before sinking deep into your mouth, drawing a first obscene moan out of him.

A humming moan fell out of you too, barely able to take in the taste of Shouto’s cock before it was pressing against the back of your throat, springing tears to your eyes automatically. Something about aphrodisiac quirks so often seemed to play with the taste of these heroes’ cum. No longer was it bitter, but just heady, salty, and more pleasant than it should have been as it coated your tongue and throat. You adored it, and purposefully relaxed your muscles so that you could take more of him in.

Shouto didn’t hold back. With barely half a breath in your lungs, Shouto was thrusting deep in the back of your throat so that your spit dripped from your mouth and smacked wetly between his balls and your chin. You blinked tears out of your eyes and looked up at him to find blown pupils staring back at you, gaze hot and pointed.

There was light behind those eyes. Whatever Shouto was right now, it wasn’t unthinking, not pure instinct. No, the way he was fucking your throat, the way his eyes had you pinned—it was intentional.

Abruptly, Shouto pulled out, a think strand of spit snapping from his dick, cold on your tongue as you panted from the rough treatment. You held your mouth open, expecting him to shove back in once you’d caught your breath, but Shouto seemed to have other plans. He moved down your body, soaked cock again in his palm, and his eyes now set on your pussy. You reached for one of the condoms you’d set out next to you, and held it in front of him.

“Hate to sound like an after-school special, but no glove…”

Shouto paused, eyeing you for just a moment before taking the square and making quick work of it, rolling it over himself.

Then, abruptly, he put a hand on your cheek, drawing your eyes back up to his. “Thank you for your hard work. It does not go unappreciated.”

“What the—”

You were left agog at his statement, wholly unprepared as he swiftly took each of your thighs in one hand, spread them, and plunged in you to the hilt. You gasped high in your chest, your throat still tender from being rawed by Shouto’s dick. He leaned over you, sighing with a relief that doubled then halved the size of his chest. His forehead touched yours in a strange moment of intimacy, and, for a moment, you wondered if that was it. Was that all the release condition took? Penetration? Or had he cum and you just hadn’t noticed?

Were you going to be left to tend to yourself with the bullet vibrator in your glove compartment yet again?

Then Shouto leaned back, looked at you again with those sharp eyes, and began smacking into you with abandon.

“Fuck,” you let out as Shouto’s balls, still wet with your spit, left their mark on your ass with every deep thrust he gave you.

Shouto manhandled your thighs, grabbing them firmly in each hand as he reared back fully on his knees again, taking the lower half of your body with him. You reflexively braced with your arms, and soon they were the only part of you still in contact with the bed, along with your upper back and head still resting on the comfortable stack of pillows.

As was often the case, you’d lost control of the situation. You could barely match Shouto’s thrusts on your own as he repeatedly used his upper body strength to bring you to him, and his lower body strength to send his hips right back in return. If you tried to reach him, your fingertips would barely brush his thighs, much less any other part of him. You were totally at his mercy.

You couldn’t help but eyeball his broad biceps, flexed by holding up the weight of most of your body. And aside from the sweat dripping from his forehead—probably quirk-induced—he was showing little to no strain.

He hadn’t always had muscles like this, you were sure. You couldn’t help but remember pundits sounding off on Shouto’s overreliance on his quirk over physical strength, or the difference between his body and the massive tank that was his father, Endeavor. They’d shown clips of his body—handsome, always handsome—but either Shouto had done a lot of bulking in the last few years or those newscasters had been particularly unkind. Likely both. Because now, drops of sweat were trickling from his body in rivulets; there were no straight paths to go down. A bulging muscle here to dip around, the crease from a flexed ab there to pool in. You were hypnotized by his form, even the thighs straining under the part of his uniform that he hadn’t bothered to burn off.

Your mind was so enraptured by thoughts of Shouto’s body that the sensations happening to yours crept up on you. All at once, you realized that your thighs were burning. Actually, one was burning, and the other was freezing cold, both just under his palms and branching up the fingers currently painting five bruises into each muscle.

A gasp flew out of your mouth and your eyes rolled back as your thighs suddenly began quaking unbidden. Shouto looked down at you, his expression easy save for those passionate eyes, little huffs escaping his slack jaw. “Too much?” he asked.

Your head shook side to side, a vehement no as Shouto dug his fingers even deeper into your flesh, bringing dull throbs of pain so close to where every thrust brought about sharp flashes of pleasure. It felt like a betrayal when he just then loosened his grip to slide his hands up to your knees and hook them over his shoulder. Then those hands, right at the brink of freezing and searing pressed into the meat of your ass as he brought your hips to his with redoubled force.

That first new thrust sent Shouto’s head turning to the side, digging a painful bite into the fleshy part of your calf, making you cry out. A moment later, he let go, his tongue passing over the teeth marks like a salve over a wound.

All the dueling sensations had you close. You’d been teasing yourself for so long before Shouto had even shown up and now he was fucking into you like…well, like his life depended on it.

God, was it wrong to love fuck or die quirks?

You were quick to take a hand and put it back on your aching clit, despite the strain it put on your neck and upper back to lose one arm of support. Part of a good fucking was being folded like a pretzel, and you’d just book a massage appointment tomorrow to deal with it. Surely saving the life of the number three hero was worth a reward.

Shouto’s eyes honed in on your fingers moving rapidly over your clit, and you bet he could feel the twitches of your cunt approaching climax. A hand left your ass and went behind his head to pat your ankles. “Cross them,” he instructed.

Obediently, you crossed your ankles, making your position a bit sturdier as Shouto continued to drive you back onto him with one hand. Then that second hand went to yours, brushing it away with the backs of his knuckles. A surprisingly gentle gesture for the man who was kneading bruises into your ass and biting your leg. Then, with his thumb, he painted one slow, hard, blazing stripe up your clit, and you came instantly.

“Fuck!” you shouted as your back arched in midair, the crown of your head digging into the pillows as your neatly crossed ankles came undone, your thighs shaking and falling from Shouto’s grip. His cock slid out of you as your lower half bounced once on the bed. Before the springs could vault you back, Shouto was on top of you, pressing himself back in your still convulsing cunt.

His thrusts were long, desperate as he breathed into your neck. He mouthed the base of your neck with light bites and suckles—never quite kissing. Your thighs came back up around his hips and his left hand went back to squeezing your thigh. Meanwhile, the right came between your thighs, surprising you as two fingers began prodding at your entrance.

Almost immediately, you could feel the heat of the stretch. Or rather, you would have felt the heat of the stretch, had his fingers not been ice cold against you. You cried out as he curled his fingers forward while his cock kept thrusting straight through you, the hot and cold contrast nearly too much. You wondered how much more intense it would feel if Shouto were unbound by the condom, and you able to bear its full heat.

“Please,” you whimpered as your orgasm began to rise again, too quickly, nearly as sudden as the first one had been, but without all the build up. This one felt like it was going to tear out of you.

Just then, the nips that Shouto had been teasing over your neck went away, and he planted one more good bite on your shoulder as his thrusts became insistent, the fingers petting inside you matched with a cold thumb over your clit. And neither of you could hold on a moment longer.

Shouto groaned low and bone deep in your ear while your voice, still raspy from early, keened in his. Your thighs went tight around his waist and his hand was trapped between you as you both rode out your highs. It took a full minute for your muscles to unwind, and your feet to fall flat to the bed. At that point, Shouto pulled out and rolled over next to you, both of you panting as the sweat dried on your skin.

Shouto pulled the condom off of himself and found a trashcan to toss it into before falling flat on his back again. After a few moments of nothing but heavy breathing, he opened his mouth. “Thank you for your professionalism.”

You snorted. “You’re welcome,” you managed, keeping your laughter at bay. “That’s not what people usually thank me for.”

“Thank you for saving my life?” Shouto tried again, his gaze shifting over to you.

His eyes were still bright, but his gaze less sharp, obscured by dual-colored bangs falling over it. Suddenly, Shouto looked a great deal more innocent than the man who’d been fucking the life out of you just minutes ago. Perhaps an effect of the quirk wearing off, perhaps the effect of unfettered pleasure meeting relief.

“More common, yes,” you replied, unable to keep the smile off your face.

“You’re very good at what you do,” Shouto said, his eyes going to the spot where he’d bitten your shoulder. He circled it with one finger, brows furrowing. “You’re like a hero.”

“Hah,” you returned, looking up at the ceiling. You weren’t going to let this be the moment in your career that made you blush. “Vixen, the orgasm hero. I don’t think it would meet the commission’s guidelines.”

“Perhaps not,” Shouto said, sitting up and pulling up what remained of his costume, frowning at the spot where he’d torn it. You supposed you needn’t have worried about this costume going to the cleaners; the support team would likely toss it and make a replacement.

“There are clothes you can change into in the closet,” you said, pointing to the near invisible door in the back wall.

Shouto waved you away as he stood up. “This will be fine to make it to the locker room with.”

“Suit yourself,” you said as you pushed yourself up, trying to remember where you’d thrown your leggings before you’d started jerking of, grunting as your spine cracked.

Shouto plucked the leggings from near the foot of the bed and tossed them to you before heading towards the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned back and made eye contact with you one last time, the ghost of a smile you’d never seen before on his lips. “Thanks again…Vixen.”

As he closed the door, you could only blame your own impropriety, that utter lack of virtue that you first thought was:

Number two pro hero, Shouto: check.