#car insert

[lazylittledragon]

mombin pt 6 and look who showed up

(1)(2)(3)(4) (5)

[scary-grace]

This art did something bad to me, so instead of editing Opposites Attract like I was supposed to, I wrote a follow-up to hands-off, hands-on. Canon-esque, Shigaraki x reader, belligerent sexual tension, blowjobs. Pretty obviously rated E.

hands-free

As soon as the closet door shuts, Shigaraki’s pinned back against it. He tries to keep a decent poker face, but it’s not easy when you’re glaring at him like that. “What is your problem?”

“I’m not the one with a problem,” you snap. “You don’t get to be a dick to me just because you popped a boner at the wrong moment.”

“I – didn’t,” Shigaraki snaps in response, willing his face not to turn red. “If I did, how would you even know? Is it that hard to keep your mind off my cock?”

“To be honest, Shigaraki? I only think about it when it’s ruining my day,” you say. Shigaraki scoffs, tries to step away from the door, only for you to close the space between the two of you and push him back against it. “Like when you’re so pissed about being horny that you try to cut me down to size in front of everyone.”

Shigaraki would argue that on principle, if there was a principle, but you’ve got him figured out on this one, and you haven’t even used your quirk on him. If you’d used your quirk on him, you’d have figured out that it’s about you, because of you. As it is, you just think he’s an asshole, and he’s better off that way. If you knew the truth, there’s no way you’d have dragged him in here. And definitely no way you’d have locked the door.

“We’ve been over this,” you say. “I thought we had a deal.”

You did. It was a pretty good deal for Shigaraki – he got a handjob, and you got off his shitlist. And stayed off it, because in spite of the fact that Shigaraki’s annoyed with you no matter what you’re doing, you’re pretty good at playing your part within the League. With that in mind, Shigaraki didn’t have any business going off on you at the strategy meeting today. Except that he had a dream about you last night, and he was still thinking about it this morning, and he got so annoyed with his inability to stop thinking about it that he blew up at you before you could even open your mouth.

You’re still glaring, waiting for a response. “Yeah. We have a deal,” Shigaraki says. “What did you want me to do? Tell you to meet me in my room in front of everybody so you could get me off?”

“You could have told me before the meeting,” you point out. “So now I’m meeting you here.”

Your hands settle on Shigaraki’s waist, your palms warm through the thin fabric. Shigaraki’s mind skids to a halt as you drag your fingers along the waistband of his pants, hooking one finger beneath it before letting it fall back. “You can’t do that in here,” he says. When did his mouth get so dry? “Are you crazy?”

“Apparently I am, for sticking around to be your favorite punching bag.” You edge the waistband of his pants ever so slightly down, exposing the crests of his hips. Shigaraki clenches his jaw as a shiver travels through them. “Maybe if I do a better job this time, you’ll come to me first instead of picking on me in front of everyone and expecting me to figure it out.”

You’re going to touch him. Shigaraki can barely stand to remember what happened before on a normal day, but right now, when you’re practically pinning him to the door? He forgot that the process of you helping him get off involves making the whole problem worse. He can feel your breath against his neck as you lean in close. “Keep your hands to yourself this time,” you say. “I don’t want to have to steal another one of your hoodies.”

You stole one from him last time, after he ruined your shirt. Shigaraki realizes with some degree of horror that you’re wearing it right now. You pull his pants down roughly, freeing his cock, and he bites back a groan. He doesn’t have to look down to know that he’s painfully hard, and if he wasn’t leaking precum before, he’s doing it now, because he’s thinking about you jerking him off while wearing his clothes. He should have pulled you aside this morning. Should have dragged you back to his room. Shigaraki’s hips twitch, seeking friction, and you step back.

He hates the way you’re looking him up and down, and you’re not doing anything. “Don’t just stare. Touch me.”

“I am touching you.” Your hands are still grasping his hips, thumbs running over his hipbones until he squirms. “Like this?”

One hand dips between his legs, loosely cradling his balls. Why does everything feel so much better when you’re doing it? Shigaraki mumbles a curse, shifting impatiently as he waits for your other hand to leave his hips and curl around his cock. The hand on his hip stays where it is as you sink to your knees in front of him.

You’re – what? Shigaraki’s jaw slackens at the thought, let alone the sight of you down there, tilting your head to consider his cock. The pressure of your hand on his hip increases as you lean forward and drag your tongue across his tip, and Shigaraki’s focus narrows down to your hands and your mouth and nothing else.

He leans back against the wall, trying to stay balanced, but it’s hard to do when you’re making his back arch like this. You’re barely doing anything beyond playing with his tip, drawing him partway into your mouth so your tongue can caress the underside of his cock. Shigaraki’s hips jerk forward, seeking more, and your other hand rises to pin him in place. What is Shigaraki supposed to do now? Just sit back and take it? That’s what he did in the dream that fucked him over today – sat back on his bed with his hands tied over his head, while you sucked mark after mark into his torso and his hips and his thighs. You never touched his cock, and Shigaraki was still desperate when he woke up. Desperate enough to hump pillows. Not desperate enough to go to you.

He should have. He would have, if he’d known you’d do something like this. Shigaraki’s legs are starting to shake, and worse, he’s clawing at his neck again, trying to ground himself in the face of what you’re doing to him. It’s not possible. You told him to keep his hands to himself, but there’s nothing for Shigaraki to touch. Not you. Definitely not you. Shigaraki makes the mistake of glancing down again. You’re sucking on the tip of his cock, your eyes fluttering shut, and you’re wearing his clothes. Shigaraki lets his head fall back against the door and moans.

He’s never felt like this before, not even when you were touching him last time. Something about you pinning him. Something about the fact that you dragged him in here yourself. Shigaraki’s back arches again, stays frozen there, while his hands tangle up in his own hair and his jaw aches with the effort of holding back the sounds he wants to make. When you pull away, he actually whines in protest. “Don’t stop –”

“Are you sure you like this?” you ask. “You’re so quiet compared to last time.”

Shigaraki’s face flushes. “What do you think?” he spits, as you nudge his shaking legs further apart. “Do you need me to say it?”

“It might be nice,” you say, like last time. Your lips brush against Shigaraki’s stomach as you lean forward again, and you keep kissing him. Another whine forces its way through Shigaraki’s clenched teeth as your teeth scrape over his hip. “Yes or no is fine.”

“Yes,” Shigaraki says, hating how ragged his voice is becoming. Hates how his body spasms as your lips move along the crease between his leg and hip. “Yes. I like it when you – ah, fuck – fuck –”

Swearing isn’t as pathetic as moaning, but Shigaraki’s moaning, too. He’s too loud. The entire city can probably hear him. You let go of his hips, but only for a second – long enough for you to change your grip, to pull him forward against your mouth, close enough to press your nose into his hair. Shigaraki could thrust, but there’s no point. He’s all the way as close as he can get, and you wanted him there. You’re the one holding him in place as your throat convulses around the head of his cock. You’re the one who won’t let him go.

You aren’t letting go, but he begs you anyway – not to stop, to make him come. Your fingernails dig into his hips as you swallow hard, and Shigaraki comes in a shaking, whimpering, pathetic rush. Your throat convulses again, and again, your grip on his hips so tight that he’ll have scratch marks or bruises by the end of the day. Shigaraki can’t think about that, any more than he can think about the fact that you’re swallowing. All he can do is shudder in your grip, keeping his hands to himself, until you finally draw back and let him go.

Shigaraki falls back against the door with a thud. You sit back and clear your throat, then swallow a few more times, grimacing. No points for guessing why. Shigaraki untangles his hands from his hair and pulls up his pants, trying to string a sentence together. “You didn’t have to swallow.”

“No?” You cough again. “I thought guys liked that kind of thing.”

It’s hot to know that you’re willing to. Really hot. Shigaraki’s pretty sure this will be featuring in every single horny daydream for the rest of his life. Still – “I wouldn’t want to eat it, either.”

“Good to know.” You get to your feet, wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, then try to nudge past Shigaraki to the door. “Move.”

“Hey.” Shigaraki leans back against the door, then throws out his arm to block your way. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out. I don’t want to spend the rest of the day in here.” You try to get past Shigaraki again, and he refuses to move. “What?”

“You know,” Shigaraki says. There’s something you did last time that you forgot this time. You’re looking at him blankly, without a hint of recognition, and Shigaraki loses patience – with himself this time, which is new. “Fuck it. Don’t move.”

“Hands to yourself,” you warn, but Shigaraki doesn’t need both hands – or any hands – for this. He leans in, and you don’t move in time, and in spite of knowing exactly where your mouth has been, it’s still a pretty good kiss.

tag list: @shigarakislaughter @deadhands69 @xeveryxstarfallx @lvtuss @f3r4lfr0gg3r @evilcookie5 @lacrimae-lotos @warxhammer @agente707 @shikiblessed @atspiss @baking-ghoul @boogiemansbitch @cheeseonatower @koohiii @stardustdreamersisi @issaortiz @dance-with-me-in-hell @minniessskii @handumb @aslutforfictionalmen

[eclairemaire]

the sound of music pt.3

playlist | part 1 part 2

Pairing: Lewis Pullman x Reader Category: Fluff Summary: Stranded in a 24-hour diner in the middle of nowhere, you make an unlikely companion as you bond over the sound of music. Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Swearing, fast-burn??? (idk), No mention of Y/N, Nicknames & petnames, mechanic-ish reader, musician reader (Lemme know if I missed any) Notes: This is part 3 of this series. I hope everyone enjoys. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; all characters are just that, characters, and have no ties to their real-life counterparts.

Lewis puts his phone onto the dash as you plop into the passenger seat, you sigh and throw yours up there as well. He watches as you rest your elbows on your knees and stare at the floorboard for a minute. 

“Ok,” you say after a moment.

“Ok?” he asks in response.

“Yeah, Ok.” You look at him for the first time since you got into the car. “I will move in with you.” Lewis looks like he’s about to start talking, but you hold up a finger to stop him.

“But there are some conditions.” Your tone brooks no argument from him, so he nods and waits for you to continue. 

“First,” you hold up a finger. “I will NOT mooch off your wealth or take any freebies. Therefore, I will not just live with you; I will be paying rent, and you can decide how much that is later. But this is non-negotiable.” Lewis nods, but doesn’t look like he quite agrees with it.

“Second,” you raise a second finger. “You need to be aware that I am not very fond of people, so if you have a ton of people over or something to that effect, give me like a 30-minute warning so I can prepare myself.”

“I understand that.”

“Third,” you raise a third finger. “I know your family is very private about your lives, I ask that you extend that courtesy to me. I have no interest in being a public figure, I don’t want fame, I don’t want your money. I just want to be me, and if that includes being your friend or whatever, great. I respect your boundaries and you respect mine.” Lewis hums low in his throat and nods agreement.

“I think I can do those things, but I want to add something.” He says, “You continue to treat me just like anybody else. Not an Actor or an important Musician, just me, Lewis.” 

“I think you’ve got yourself a deal.” You put out your hand for him to shake, and he does. After that, he starts the truck, and y’all continue on your journey to Lewis’s home.

It’s a week after your initial move-in that you have a slight conundrum, it’s around mid-afternoon, and Lewis was just finishing up a call when you messaged him.

‘Hey, we need to talk when you get the chance.’  He read your message and let you know that he was free now for the rest of the afternoon.

Knocking on his office door, you wait for him to respond, “Come in.” He turns and smiles at you as you open the door and lean on the door frame. “What’s up?” 

“We need to figure out how to get my stuff from my storage unit.” You say.

“Okay, well, where’s your storage unit?” He asks.

“It’s a U-Haul unit in Oklahoma. Got all my shit in there, my piano, my violin and my car to name a few things.” You say as you walk further into his office. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to play violin,” he mused as you stopped in front of him in his desk chair.

“Believe it or not, there are quite a few things you don’t know about me.” You reply.

“Well, we could use a moving service, have them go to your unit, get your stuff, and haul it out here.” He said, as he turned to look one up on his computer. 

“Yeah, that’s where the issue comes up, I don’t think anybody we sent would know how to drive my car…” You trail off at the end of your sentence, and Lewis turns back around to look at you.

“Why wouldn’t someone know how to drive your car?” His gaze was curious as he eyed where you stood, fiddling with your fingers.

“Uhh… becauseitsavintagejapaneseimportedcar.” You said it so fast that he missed the majority of what you said.

“Care to repeat that slower?” He requested.

“Because it’s a vintage Japanese import car.” You repeated, slower, ducking your head down in slight embarrassment.

“You have a vintage import car?” He didn’t seem to believe you.

“Yeah, remember I said I’d been driving since I could sit in a go-kart. That later translated into working on and owning vintage cars. How do you think I made enough money to hitchhike for three months by myself?” You ask, putting your hands on your hips as you stared him down in his seat. He raised his hands in surrender before responding.

“Ok, so what do you suggest doing if we can't do the moving service?”

“I’ll probably call my dad to be honest, get our enclosed trailer, and meet up with him at the storage unit and drive back here with my shit. Then I can ‘officially’ move in.” You state matter-of-factly.

“Sounds like a plan, what do you need from me?” He asked, not seeing where he came into play in this situation.

“I need you to drop me off at the airport in a few days, and not be here when we get there. I know it’s your place and all, but my dad’s really overprotective, and I really don’t want him scaring you off, because then I’ll have to find a new place to live.” You state with a deadpan expression on your face.

“I uh yeah, when do you think you’ll be back?” He asked after checking his calendar for the next week or so.

“I’ll fly out in two days, it’ll be a little over 22 22-hour drive, so maybe two days after that, I can text you when we’re five hours away.” You say as you look at your phone, and then over to him. He nods, and then his phone rings, and you take that as your cue to exit his office and leave him be.

Four days later your unloading all your shit from your dad’s trailer and taking it into the house and putting the various boxes in their designated places, kitchen things in the kitchen, your toiletries in your bathroom, your tool box in the garage, and all your other possessions is going into your room the only thing you don’t know what to do with is your piano. 

So you call Lewis. He picks up after the second ring. “Hey Lew,” you say as you look around the living room.

“Hey, what’s up? How’s unloading going?” he asks.

“Good, only one thing left.” You answer.

“Oh, that’s good, what is it?”

“You wouldn’t be opposed to having a piano in the living room, right?” Your voice is soft as you ask.

“Why don’t you just put it in the studio?” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Um, because the studio is full of the bands equipment, I wouldn’t want to fuck anything up.” Was your answer.

“You wouldn’t fuck anything up.” He laughed, but you weren’t joking. If you somehow broke any of that equipment, you wouldn’t be able to face him ever again.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that, you’ve seen what a clutz I am sometimes,” you mutter.

“Here, how about this, you and your dad can leave it in the living room for now and when I get back, we'll move it to the studio?”

“Ok.”

“Great, see you later, Sweetheart.”

“Bye, Lew.” You sigh as you hang up the phone and shove it into your pocket, before going to the kitchen, where your dad is sitting at the table on his phone.

“We can put it in the living room, but we need to leave it on the furniture dollies.” You state as he looks up from his phone. “I’ll mail them back home to y’all, lord knows no one else is moving anytime soon.”

“When do I get to meet your new roommate?” He asks as he gets up, and y’all both go to get the piano from outside. 

“You likely won’t, they’re busy, and won’t be back for a day or two.” You say as you begin to push the piano into the house and towards the living room. Your dad doesn’t have a response to that, and you both carry on. He leaves an hour later after making sure you had everything, and goes to his hotel for the night before he leaves in the morning.

Lewis comes back home around eight pm to see you in your pajamas dancing around as you pull stuff out of boxes and put them in places around the kitchen. ‘Lover, You Should’ve Come Over’ by Jeff Buckley was playing throughout the house. The lyrics were ringing in his ears as he listened to you sing them.

“My body turns And yearns for a sleep that won't ever come It's never over My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder It's never over All my riches for her smiles When I've slept so soft against her It's never over All my blood for the sweetness of her laughter It's never over She is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever Oh, but maybe I'm just too young To keep good love from going wrong”

You spun around to get a box from near the door when you finally saw him, your smile beaming as your eyes lit up. You turned down the music but didn’t turn it off as you walked over to him, where he leaned against the door frame. He smiled at you as you came to a halt in front of him. He reached out and wrapped his arms around your shoulders and rested his chin on your head, as your arms wrapped around his waist. 

“How was the drive?” He asks, voice quiet.

“Long, but good, Dad’s heading out tomorrow morning.” You murmur against his chest.

“I missed you,” his voice was thick with emotion.

“Hey, I was only gone like three days,” you pull back and put your hands on either side of his face. “What are you going to do when you go on tour, or leave to film? Can’t just put me in your pocket and go with.” You giggle as he pouts at you.

“So where’s this mysterious car you were worried someone wouldn’t be able to drive?” He asked.

“In the garage, you can see it tomorrow. Right now, you have to help me move the piano into the studio.” You say as you pull out of his hold entirely to walk to the living room. 

You both got the piano into the studio successfully without damaging any of the equipment, but it was significantly more difficult than either of you thought it would be and took a whole hour; you both collapsed into a heap onto the couch after.

Over the following weeks, you and Lewis got to know each other more. You learned about how went to college to be a social worker, and he learned that you went to trade school and had a shit ton of certifications in different fields, so you could do odd jobs while you traveled. You both continued to bond over music, with him being the drummer for his band, and you as a ‘classically’ trained musician. 

During those weeks, your stuff had started to appear all over the house, goofy mugs sat on the drying rack by the sink, and in the cabinets, books of various genres littered bookshelves, and at least 2 of your blankets could be found in the living room, car parts were sitting in boxes in the garage waiting to be installed either onto your car or his truck, and sheet music could be found on almost any flat surface within the house. Your jackets and shoes had made homes in his entryway. And the number of plants around the home had skyrocketed.

~ 

Danny wasn’t sure he had the right house when he pulled up; the porch had a significantly larger number of potted plants than he remembered from his time living with Lewis. The garage door was open, and he could see a wicked-looking car inside that he didn’t think Lewis could ever justify buying for himself. But he double-checked the address, and it was Lewis’s house, and it was the day they had planned to meet up.

Lewis had told him that he could come straight in when he got there, and he did have his own key after all. He paused at the front door. He could hear music playing throughout the house, and he was sure that if he did have to knock, whoever was inside wouldn’t have been able to hear it. Unlocking the door, he was greeted by the smell of food coming from the kitchen and the sound of singing, which wasn’t Lewis's.

“Hey Lewis, I’m here!” He yelled into the house as he was taking his shoes off, before heading towards the kitchen. When Danny walked into the kitchen, he wasn’t expecting to see you at the dining table, in what appeared to be one of Lewis’s shirts and a pair of pants covered in paint. You were on a laptop and had a notebook next to you, and were chewing on the end of a pencil as you stared at the screen in front of you.

“Lew’s in his office,” you say, jamming a finger in that direction without looking up from your laptop. “Tell him lunch is almost ready and if he wants some he needs to get his butt out here in the next five minutes.” You add before you scribble something down in your notebook. Before you stand, crack your back and pick up your things, and leave the kitchen.

Danny was not expecting that to be how you would act, but he still wasn’t even sure who you were, and you left before he could even get a word in. Deciding to find Lewis, he goes to his office and knocks on the door. Lewis opens the door and up seeing Danny, smiles brightly.

“Hey man,” He pulls Danny into a hug.

“There was a random person in your kitchen who told me to tell you, quote unquote ‘lunch is almost ready and if he wants some he needs to get his butt out here in the next five minutes.’” Danny said after they separated.

“That’s my supposed stray I picked up a month ago.” Lewis laughed and started for the kitchen.

“Wait, they’re actually living with you?” Danny asked incredulously.

“Uh, yeah. Moved in officially like a week and a half after we got back.” Lewis answered. 

When they reached the kitchen, the music had been turned down, and you were pulling something out of the oven. It smelled even better than it did earlier. You set down the lasagna on a marble slab in the middle of the dining table, which had been set for three people. Once your hands were empty, Lewis decided to introduce you both.

“Danny, this is the stray,” He says, gesturing to you, “Sweetheart, this is Danny Ramirez.” You stick out your hand to shake Danny’s.

“Nice to meet you, Danny. Lew’s been singing your praises the past few days.” You say voice fond as you glance at Lewis.

“Nice to meet you as well, though I haven’t heard as much about you, I’m afraid,” Danny says as you release his hand and move to sit down. 

“Not surprising, I’ve asked Lewis to keep me under wraps, people aren’t my forte.” You reply.

“That explains why I haven’t heard about you since that first phone call,” Danny says, sitting across from you at the table. At the mention of the phone call, you shoot a look towards Lewis as he goes to grab drinks, you can see that his ears are slightly pink, from where you are sitting.

“I wasn’t aware that Lewis had told anyone besides the band that I was living with him.” Your tone was curious as you looked back over to Danny.

“Haha,” Lewis gave an awkward laugh as he sat down. “Well, it was before you actually agreed you’d stay. “ Lewis muttered.

“Oh, so that’s who you were talking to before I came back to the truck. Gotcha.” Was your response.

playlist | part 1 part 2

Taglist: @smoothdogsgirl @bmyva1entine @daisydark @sadpetalsstuff @articel1967 @xblueriddlex @louloulemons-posts

[namelessgakusei]

EP. 2.1 Lead us not into temptation

Devil May Cry x Reader Insert

Warnings: It's DMC. Based on the New Netflix Series. Spoiler warnings for the actual show. Not proofread. It's hard to find gifs so have a pic instead.

EP. 1.2 COMBUSTION (prev.)

EP. 2.2 And deliver us from evil (cont.)

Synopsis: Mercenaries are hired, and a bounty was put over your heads. Enzo still insists on being your Dad despite it being untrue.

"My God. It's worse that I imagined."

Inside a certain conference room in DARKCOM HQ gathered various kinds of mercenaries, from rugged and scarred to spotless newbies, all waiting for orders about their target. On the other side of the room stood the five members of the DARKCOM Elite Ops, watching guard as they practically sneered at the group of people in front of them.

"An entire horde of—"

"Monsters." A fight broke out between the mercenaries, making one of the Ops members sigh, commenting if this is really the species they are trying to save. Thankfully, the appearance of the Vice President shut the commotion down, leaving the mercs gaping as to why an important person in power is standing in front of them. But as the room dimmed, Baines disregarded their shock, opting to go straight to the point and reveal the primary objective.

A red shard serving as a pendant.

"It is an item of critical importance to our national security." All the mercenaries fell back to their chairs, focused on the briefing of their mission. "However, seeing as this item officially does not exist, we need it retrieved off the books." Baines' expression hardened. After providing the amulet's location, he too revealed the current owner, showing the estimation of his abilities. "He's a man the US government considers a top-level threat."

"He is extremely volatile and prodigiously gifted in combat. Engage him only with the full brunt of your firepower."

Baines' eyeglasses reflected the light from the dim room, and after a pause, raised his head up, showing his grim expression. "His name is Dante."

The sight of Dante's grin all over the screen made the mercenaries guffaw at his ridiculous portraits, clearly underestimating him, saying that this much number of hired men is an overkill. However, a burly man that sat at the farthest corner of the room spoke up, his body littered with metal prosthetics as he looked at his comrades in pity. "Laugh while you can... You won't be much longer."

"I met Dante once. Worked with him on a protection job." This mercenary recounted the events of his previous jobs, confirming that Dante indeed is on a whole another level from the usual men for hire, and that if it wasn't for Dante, he would've been long dead. "And you'll all be dead soon enough if you go after him. No... You won't even be able to take a step within a hundred foot radius if you have the intent to harm him, not when he has that monster with him at all times."

The Vice President's eyes narrowed, and another set of pictures appeared on the screen behind him, showing another hunter that's comparatively calmer in their photos.

You.

"You meant (Y/N)." The sound of your name made the mercenary wince, the memory of your meeting still fresh in his mind. That uncanny smile of yours that did nothing but unsettle seasoned men like him, those that are all too familiar about the underworld, whenever you look their way. You fight well, like you've mapped out every single possibility that could happen, and it creeps him out. You're too prepared.

He still remembers how your eyes bore to him, scrutinizing his worth in mere seconds, like he's nothing but an item for you to appraise. It's like you know too much but chose to keep quiet, waiting for the right time to use your cards, a bona fide information broker within the world of Devil Hunters. "I'm not risking my life by hunting the two crazy bastards." He grunts as he stands up, a look of resignation on his face as he meet eyes with Baines. "Ain't no amount of money you could offer that'd be worth—"

"Five hundred thousand." That much made the mercenary stop himself from opening the door. "The bounty is 500,000 for whoever brings in Dante with the amulet." Baines' expression is unreadable, the light from the screen casting shadows on his face. "An additional 250,000 you also bring in (Y/N)." He fixes his glasses as he continues to negotiate, already knowing how to piqued in their interests. "And a bonus if they're both alive for questioning."

That enough made everyone grin and behave, even the mercenary from earlier became enthusiastic at the amount.

"We will be deploying a civilian asset to keep them distracted as you move in." The screen changes from your face to Enzo's. But the elephant in the room wasn't about the bounty on your heads, it's about the presence of DARKCOM's operatives at the side of the room, barely moving nor reacting to anything. One of the hired men even questioned their use if they'll be doing the all work anyways, having the gall to ridicule them as the rest laughed. The lone hooded soldier narrows her eyes at one of the mercenaries, before breaking into a knowing smile.

"These soldiers will be in the field, overseeing the operation. You'll deliver the package to them." Baines explained while running his eyes around the room, giving one last look at the number of cannon fodder for this mission. "The contract opens as of midnight tonight."

"That's all." The light returned to the room and one by one, the mercenaries stood up to leave. There was shuffling just outside the door, leaving many irritated grunts and huffs from the passing men, the source is the overly eager soldier wearing a DARKCOM Special Ops uniform. It's Anders, having fully recovered from his previous injuries and is now the newest member of the unit despite their Lieutenant's skepticism. He brought along with him the asset that shall be used to aid the extraction mission, a noisy Enzo, who complains about not getting a decent food during his stay.

The broker immediately shut up when he saw the people inside the room he was ushered in, laughing nervously while asking for a clarification about what he should be doing later tonight.

The air was tense around the building that night. Inside your shared apartment was the unnerving stillness, devoid of the sound of the TV or Dante's arrogant claims that has something to do with pizza and arcade while you lounge on the couch, unimpressed. It was too dark and quiet, a sight that only happened whenever the two of you are away on long term missions, usually in another city or so. But Enzo knows that he didn't give you anything after the set-up job, so it's a surprise for him when he opens the door, only to be met with nothing.

"(Y/N)? Dante? You here?" Nothing. The weight of the briefcase felt foreign to him, even if it just houses the usual monetary reward for the job. "(Y/N)...! It's your Pa! I've go—" A gun was shoved to his temple, with an annoyed voice breaking the otherwise stillness. "You are not my Dad."

You sneered at him with faux-disgust as he stumbled backwards in surprise, chuckling nervously while trying to keep you calm, only for another barrel to hit the back of his head as Dante smirks at Enzo's predicament. "Y-you are here! Thank God!" Your "Pa" sputters while raising his hands in surrender, saying that it's a relief since he thought he missed you. But your obvious suspicion remains on your face, before lowering your gun and sighing, Dante didn't, however.

"Hey, Enzo. How've you been?" His sing-song tone betrays his own doubts about the broker's sudden appearance, one that didn't got missed by the latter as he spun towards the young man and tried to get him to lower his weapon with humor.

Dante didn't.

"Wish I could help you out there." Your calm stance greatly contrasts the uneasy atmosphere. Seated on the couch with your legs crossed and an arm lazily draped over the back, you smiled brightly at your mentor. "But see, I've heard something funny from the walls. About his last job."

"Our last job." Dante corrects you without looking, leaning closer to Enzo as he keeps the gun on the man.

"Of course." You chuckled lightly, instead of the usual smugness known to only by close confidants, before returning your gaze to Enzo. "It turned out to be a setup so a shapeshifting demon baby could try to steal my necklace." Dante finished your words, closing in and jamming the barrel of his gun to the older man's neck. The broker turned to you for help but all he saw was your knowing, closed-eyed, smile. "It's the most curious thing, isn't it? You know how possessive he gets with that pendant."

Enzo laughs nervously, finally confessing that he might have set Dante up. But that it wasn't really his fault, no! He's just a middleman, a nobody, he swears! "It was the guy who gave me the job! The White Rabbit!"

The White what? Your face scrunched in confusion as you cocked your head to the side. "Like Alice's?" There are demons with animal-like creatures, but most of them opted to learn to try to pass off as human, so for Enzo to use the word the, it means that this isn't some common demon. Your question made him nod furiously. "He's the one who set the whole thing up!"

"See, he comes into my office, talking all smooth, a-and I'm mesmerized!" Of course, you sighed in exasperation. With how sweating your adoptive father is, you're fairly certain that he's telling the truth. "So you're saying you only sent me into a trap because a demon that looks like a giant rabbit tricked you into doing it?" Dante emphasizes by pushing the gun to Enzo's mouth, despite the broker practically begging the two of you to believe him.

"Dante." You sighed and stood from your seat, going over to them with a disappointed look for Enzo. In response to your words, Dante's previously furrowed brows relaxed as he pulled his gun away and stands up. "All right, that checks out."

"What are you doing here?"

The older man nearly sagged to the floor in relief, before pushing the briefcase to the table, saying that it's the second half of the fee for the setup job. "Just 'cause the job was fake don't mean you don't get paid, right?" Enzo shrugged and beamed at the sight of the wads or cash inside the briefcase after he opened it, caressing the money with such gentleness. "Pure, uncut, American green. And all you have to do was fight a baby for it." He beams at the scowling Dante.

"And my brother." Dante's jaw squared as he frowned. "The shapeshifter showed up again later disguised as him." Meanwhile, you inspected the money the moment Enzo got distracted, closing the lid upon confirming the legitimacy before noticing something off. "Nothing like how he'd actually look now, but still, it was a good effort." There was a blinking device at the bottom of the suitcase. A transmitter or a tracker, you don't know, but you went over to the window to throw it away, catching glimpses of people moving around the rooftops. Typical. And as expected.

Enzo tried comforting Dante by reaching out for his arm but the younger man pulled away. "I keep telling you. What's my only rule?" He looked at the broker with annoyance as he rummaged behind his desk. You walked back to the couch while stretching, donning your coat and grabbing your own briefcase, equipped with weapons you made on your own. "I'll take any job that pays, especially if it involves killing demons. Just long as I can do it with (Y/N), and not care about anything else." Enzo heard it too many times that he parroted it back. "I know, I know. But I have you the job, not them." Dante lifted his head from the table with a deadpan, making the other shrug and drop the argument. "So you and me, we're all good now, yeah?"

"You know I look at you two as my own children." Enzo turned around to beam at you, faltering upon seeing you drawing the curtains close. "Not my dad." You replied with a flat tone, making him slump his shoulders. "I would take a bullet for you two! ...Maybe not a bullet but a blade, like a little jab." He nods and turns back to Dante with such... conviction. "Point is, I would never set you up like that on purpose."

"So there aren't multiple teams of mercenaries outside, closing in around us right now?" You cocked your gun and raised a brow to your adoptive father.

Dante grinned.

taglist!: @mischiefmanaged71 @tamashithe2nd @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @96jnie

[willoryn]

Waking up in the middle of the night to the feeling of someone spooning you in the darkness, pressed up against you from behind in your bed. You might have been startled if the sweet smell of smokey vanilla didn't immediately fill your lungs.

"Lucifer," you say, your voice groggy from sleep. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I couldn't sleep," came Lucifer's response in the darkness. His own voice ragged... though not from sleep. You felt his fingers trail over your hip and down your thigh under your blanket. "My bed isn't comfortable without you in it~"

All of a sudden you are wide awake when you feel his fingers dip under the waistband of your panties and through your short curls.

"Is that so..." you whisper, pressing your back further into his embrace.

"But the truth is," Lucifer says against the back of your neck as his hand dips slightly lower until he finds what he was seeking... a whine leaves you as his finger draws small, slow circles against your sensitive bud. "I'm craving so much more than sleep right now~"

[straylightdream]

getaway car

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: hansol vernon chwe x f.reader

↳ The ties were black, the lies were white. In shades of gray in candlelight. I wanted to leave him. I needed a reason.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: soulmate au??, neighbors to lovers, non idol au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mc boyfriend is a jerk, the mc ex is physically cheating, mc is emotional cheating, lots of emotions, smut warning below the cut

𝐚𝐧: my next story for SVT inspired by reputation songs by taylor swift. This is part of a loosely connecting series called “all for you” you can absolutely just read this as one shot. Thank you @whimsical-whatever for helping me figure out this story and listening to me ramble about it.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: oral (fem rec), fingering, protected sex, starting to have sex in the shower, multiple positions, this is very fluffy vanilla smut, lots of emotions

When people talk about being in love they always make it sound so grand and wonderful. They don’t talk about the heartbreak that can also be experienced loving someone who doesn’t deserve your love.

Laying in bed you stare at the empty spot that should be occupied by your boyfriend of five years, but instead he’s nowhere to be seen.

In the last seven months things have fallen apart. No matter how hard you think back you don’t think you can pin the moment when it all started. You’re not happy anymore by any means. You’re not even sure you’re still in love.

There’s only one gleam of light in your life. The boy who lives down the hall Vernon. Whenever you see him he instantly brightens your day. You had met when you moved in, but you didn’t really talk until one day he rode in the elevator with you while you were crying. Since that day Vernon has been a fixture in your life. He became a shoulder to cry on when your boyfriend hurt your feelings. He was also someone you could talk to when you wanted to pretend everything was okay.

You tried your hardest to not complain about your relationship all the time. Most of the time you would just say you were sad and needed a friend.

This last week has been bad. It’s quite obvious your boyfriend is cheating on you.

From the moment you met Vernon you felt drawn to him. At first you told yourself it wasn't a romantic feeling but the longer you knew him the more you realized you felt like you need him in your life to exist. You told yourself over and over you were faithful to your boyfriend that this was nothing more than a crush. But the more your relationship starts to crumble the more you let yourself realize you have feelings for the boy down the hall.

It’s another night of fighting with your boyfriend. He’s come home from work way later than he should have. He walks in after midnight and you instantly spot the stain of lipstick on his shirt collar. There is a stabbing feeling in your chest. No matter how hard you loved him he was never going to be faithful to you.

You’ve pointed out to him a handful of times that things he does makes you think he could be cheating, but this is the first time you have called him a cheater. You would think that maybe he would defend himself and tell you that he’s not cheating, but he doesn’t do that. He tells you he cheats because of you. He points all the blame on you.

You scream at him, you're done and it’s over. You feel utterly broken. Sobbing that he broke your heart as he storms out of the apartment saying he needs air.

You sit on the couch trying to gather yourself. Giving yourself a moment before you pick up your phone and rush out of your apartment.

Walking down the hall there is only one person you wanna see. It’s way past one in the morning now. Opening your phone you hit Vernon contact. Holding your phone to your ear it rings about five times before he answers the phone.

“Is everything okay?” It’s rare you call him let alone in the middle of the night.

“Not really. I’m outside, can you let me in,” you start to cry again.

“Yeah.”

Moments later he opens the door quickly. He’s just in a pair of boxer briefs. He must have been in bed already.

“I’m sorry,” you say as tears slide down your cheek.

He doesn’t say anything. He takes your hand leading you into his apartment he shares with Chan and Seokmin.

He shut the door, locking it. He hesitates for a moment before he rests his hand on your cheek and gently wipes away your tears.

“I told him I’m done. He came home after midnight with lipstick stained on his collar. I don’t wanna do this anymore. He doesn’t love me and I can’t love him anymore. I don't love him anymore.” You lean into his touch.

“I’m glad you left him. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. You’re sorry for so many things. You know he cares for you and that he probably has always romantically liked you for a while just like you have. And no matter what you do you hurt him in one way or another.

“Stop saying that. You have nothing to apologize to me for.” He gives you a gentle smile.

“Can we go to your room? I don’t want to bother the boys. It’s already so late and I already woke you up.”

Reaching down he takes your hand in his for the first time and leads you to his room. He shuts the door and releases your hand. “Would you mind if I stayed with you tonight?”

“Of course you can stay here.” You’ve never been so happy you stormed out of the house in your pajamas. “Did you want me to take the couch?”

“No, I was hoping I could sleep in your bed with you. I just really want to hold your hand.”

He can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips. You crawl under the covers and watch as Vernon turns the light on and crawls into bed next to you. You both lay there facing each other. There is a gap between you. Laying your hand there you want to be close to him. You want him to hold you and to kiss you and tell you you’ll be okay. But that is too much to ask of him.

There is always something about Vernon that he’s always been able to read you. He must notice you’re struggling. He reaches out, taking your hand in his.

“I don’t want to go back to my apartment. I don’t want to live in a building that is haunted with memories of him and I.”

He takes a deep breath squeezing your hand. “You don’t have to. I’ll help you pack your things when he’s gone to work.”

“Where am I supposed to go?” You can’t help the tears that are slowly falling.

“You can stay here with me as long as you need.”

“The boys won’t like that.” You can’t imagine either of the boys would be a fan of another person living in their three bedroom one bath apartment.

“They won’t care. Seokmin is back with his ex and barely lives here and Chan loves you. He won’t mind having you around.”

“Okay, I might need to stay here for a while. My lease wasn’t up for like six more months. Maybe I can find somewhere new by then.” Maybe Vernon has a friend who needs a new roommate.

“You don’t have to worry about that right now.” He wants to pull you close to his body and hold you like he has desperately wanted to.

There is a long moment of silence between you. “I didn't tell him I wasn’t coming home tonight. I just left after I told him we’re done.”

“That’s okay.”

“Thank you.” You’re trying to stop your tears.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he gives you a sleepy smile.

It doesn’t take long before you fall asleep with your head on his chest. His hand gently rubs your side soothing you to sleep. When you dream that night you dream about Vernon the boy who saved you. You dream about him finally kissing you the way you desperately want.

-

The next day you call out of work and send your now ex boyfriend a text telling him that it’s truly over. He’s luckily at work and away from the apartment. When he finally returned to your shared apartment last night he sent you seven texts trying to get a hold of you in the middle of last night.

You expect to receive an angry text responding to you telling him you want to break up but he leaves you on read. It’s probably for the best he does. You don’t think you could take arguing with him.

While he’s at work Vernon and Seokmin come help you pack up everything they possibly can. Seungcheol even brings his truck over to take some of your bigger stuff to a storage unit he has. You could cry at how kind Vernon and his friends are being to you. By the time five o'clock comes around basically anything that ever meant anything to you is long gone from your apartment. Seokmin and Seungcheol left you alone while you wrote a goodbye to your ex telling him he wouldn’t be hearing from you and that you would send him one more month worth of rent and that would be it.

Locking the door to your now former apartment stung. Tears brim your eyes thinking about how much you truly loved this apartment. Vernon takes your hand and brings it to his lips where he places a gentle kiss on top.

Moving on wasn’t going to be easy. You know that even though you have fallen out of love. This breakup is going to hurt. At least you now have Vernon there by your side. How much you desperately wanted to be with him, you wanted to heal and you didn’t want him to feel like he’s just a rebound.

Laying in bed that night, your head once again rests on his chest as he holds you close. “I wanna be with you fully,” you whisper.

“That’s good because I wanna be with you.” He’s slowly drawing circles on your arm.

“I don’t want to jump right into this. I think I need some time before we fully try this. But I’m begging you to be patient with me.”

Gently he presses his lips to the top of your head. “I will wait as long as it takes. I’m just asking that I can still hold your hand and hold you while we sleep. I don’t want to push you into anything else while you heal.”

After that night things stayed like this with Vernon for a while. You lived in his home and shared a bed with him for over a month and half. Vernon was truly your person. He was your rock and you have fallen for him even more.

-

Today has been hell. Anything that can go wrong is. You got yelled at at work, your ex has been trying to contact you all day and on top of that. The icing on the cake is getting stuck in a rain storm without a jacket or umbrella after getting dinner. Luckily Vernon is with you so you aren’t alone getting stuck in a rainstorm. After finding out about your terrible day at work Vernon took you out for dinner to cheer you up. Neither of you had any idea a rainstorm was coming. You had walked from the apartment about a mile to a cafe for dinner, but the rain was making it where you needed to get a cab home.

Running from the cab to the apartment building you can feel the water soaking through your clothes.

Opening the door to Vernon apartment you both instantly notice how quiet the apartment is.

“Chan is at work and I think Seokmin is with his girl. They’re fully back together now,” Vernon says. You’ve only met Seokmin ex a couple times when she came over to see him. She’s a sweet girl and seems like a good fit for him.

“Oh. I think I need a shower to warm up.” You pause staring at him for a moment. “Did you want to join?” You know this means things between you will change. But you desperately want more with him. It’s been a month and half of you living here sharing lingering touches, longing stares, and cuddling at night. You aren’t sure how much longer you could share a bed with him before you lose your mind.

“Are you sure?” He says staring at you with almost a concerned look on his face.

“Yes.”

Walking away from him you head off to the shower that is next door to his room. Luckily the boys aren’t home so you don’t have to worry about them interrupting you. You turn on the hot water waiting for him to walk in. Walking into the bathroom he locks the door as you strip away your clothes. He stands there like a statue as you open the sliding glass door and step into the steam. Your body feels an instant relief as the hot water hits your cold skin.

Standing under the warm water you watch Vernon through the frosted glass. You should feel embarrassed about him seeing you naked but you aren’t at all. This feels natural. You want whatever is going to happen with Vernon to happen. You don’t want to feel guilty for having a crush on him. He’s truly the reason you were able to walk away from your loveless relationship.

“Vernon?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to join me?” You step back under the warm water.

Through the frosted glass you can see him pulling off his shirt. “Do you want me to join you?”

“I want you to.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just takes off his pants and boxers. The glass door slides open and there he is naked in all his glory. You don’t know the last time you saw a man naked other than your ex. Vernon is absolutely beautiful. You hope in the future you can kiss your way across his beautiful skin.

The moment he slides the door shut it doesn’t turn into some lust filled moment. He stares at you for a long moment. A gentle smile on his face.

“Can you come closer to me?” You hold your hand out. Silently he takes your hand stepping closer. The warm water is washing over both of you.

“Thank you,” you don’t think you can ever thank him enough for giving you a reason to leave.

“Don’t have to thank me.”

Reaching up, his hand rests on your cheek, “I feel like you’re supposed to be in my life.”

“I feel like I need you in my life. I feel things for you I never felt for him in those five long years.” He leans down and rest his forehead against yours.

“You know Wonwoo and his girlfriend?”

“You mean the boy who is absolutely in love?” You’ve met all of Vernon’s friend in the last month and half and the moment you met Wonwoo and his girlfriend you realized he was head over heels for his girlfriend. She had told you one night when you were all at Seungcheol and Joshua’s house that Wonwoo made her believe in soulmates. Hearing her say that made you question if soulmates are real. Because if they were, you think you found yours.

“They always say they’re each other's soulmates, and I think you’re mine if they’re real,” he pulls away from you slowly.

Your body feels fuzzy as you process his words. You can’t think straight as you close the small distance between you and crash your lips into his for your first kiss. Your fingers tangled in his hair pulling his body closer to yours. You can feel him hardening against your stomach as you deepen the kiss.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this in the shower,” he whispers against your lips.

“Vernon?”

“Yes?”

“I want you in every way imaginable.”

Pulling away from you he turns off the water and steps out of the shower. He hands you a towel and starts working quickly drying himself off. The moment you’re both dry and wrapped in towels, you take his hand leading him towards his room.

Laying on his bed with your legs spread wide he’s kissing his way across your delicate skin. He kisses down your mound before pressing a kiss to your sensitive clit. His fingers part your folds as he licks your sensitive bundle of nerves. Slowly he pumps one finger inside. Your soft moans echo throughout his bedroom. He adds another finger earning a moan. Your finger clutch the sheets below you as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

Looking down at him you find him staring up at you through hooded eyes. He watches as you fall apart moaning his name.

Pulling away slowly he dips his fingers into his mouth wiping away your release. You stumble to sit up wanting to return the favor.

“What are you doing?” He asked, crawling off the bed.

“I was going to give you head in return,” you cock your head to the side.

“How much I would love that, I can’t think about anything other than being inside you,” he sighs.

“Oh-“

He reaches into his nightstand pulling out a foil packet. Tearing it open with his teeth. With lust filled eyes you watch as he rolls it down his hardened length.

Laying back on the bed you spread your legs waiting for him patiently.

Hovering over you he’s staring at you like you are the only person in the whole world. Reaching up, you rest your hand on his cheek.

“Do I sound like I’m crazy if I tell you I love you?” He whispers.

“No not at all,” you thought being in love again would be scary, but you think you have always been in love with him since you met him. He came into your life at the perfect time. You met him as you started to fall out of love with your ex. The moment you met Vernon in the hallway with your hands full of groceries you instantly felt something for him. Being around him made you feel like he’s supposed to be in your life.

“I love you,” he says softly. “I need you to know that before we have sex. I’m head over heels for you.” You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. “You don’t have to say it right now baby. I just want you to know how I feel.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Are you ready?”

You nod.

He slowly slides into you. The stretch feels amazing. Lifting your leg you open yourself up to him more. Everything in the world suddenly feels like it’s shifted. Your fingers claw at his shoulders as he thrust into you at a slow pace. His lips are yours kissing you like he needs you to breathe. This feels different than any other sex you've had before. Tangling your fingers in his hair you gently tug him away from your lips. You want to stare at him for a long moment.

“Oh my god-“ you moan.

“You feel like you were made for me,” he moans.

You hook your leg over his back just above his butt pulling him closer to you. His thrusts are incredibly deep with his slow pace.

“Please-“ you can only whimper and whine.

He rolls his hips a little faster. Your hands move down to his butt. Gripping his cheeks pulling him down closer to you. You feel as if you can’t get physically close enough to him.

“Baby do you want to change positions?” He must notice you want to have some sort of control. You seem like you desperately want to touch him.

“Please.”

He pulls out of you slowly and moves so he’s sitting with his back against the headboard. You waste no time straddling him. Slowly sinking down on his length. His hands rest on your hips helping you ride him. One of your hands rest on his cheek while the others rest on his chest right above his heart. Leaning toward you, press your forehead against his.

Silent gasps pass his lips.

“Fuck-“ you moan.

Your thighs burn as you ride him but that doesn’t stop you. Desperate to see what he looks like when he falls apart.

“Are you close?” You whine.

Silently he nods. One of his hands going up to take your breast. Squeezing it before rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers.

“Are you going to come?” He asked.

“Yes-“

You roll your hips a little faster. You clit brushes against his pelvic bone earning a wanton moan. Your second orgasm hits you harder than your first. Your hips stop moving as a white hot wave washes over you. Rolling your head back, you moan. His hands grip your hips as he moves your body up and down his length chasing his own release.

He falls apart moaning your name. You stare at him as he holds you flush against his thighs and he falls apart. The sight of him like this is absolutely breathtaking.

Your chest is heaving as you try to come down from your high slowly. Holding his face with both hands you slowly lean forward pressing your lips to his for a soft kiss.

“I love you,” you whisper the words that have been floating in your head for a while.

“I love you too.” He can’t help but smile.

“Thank you for giving me a reason to leave him.” You’ll never be able to thank Vernon for showing you that you could love someone else, and that someone could love you more than your ex did. He’s showing what it means to find your person. He’s making you believe soulmates could be real.

He pushes your hair away from your face. His thumb drags across your cheek slowly. “Falling in love with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

[katsukiizmoon]

╰┈➤ ꒰🕸🍒 ┊IN THE CAR WASH | Katsuki Bakugou꒱

『♡』 18+, F!reader, handjob, blowjob, mild overstimulation, cum eating, established relationship, you put a finger in his ass 『♡』 aaah this was supposed to be a drabble in tumblr mobile but ended up being a little under 2k. Happy kinktober lmao. -> I was listening to this

The car vibrates, music playing low in the background. Your hand under his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. You hum and chew your bottom lip. Cool air blasts through the AC and onto you, he makes a turn and slows down to stop for a red light.

You hit skip on a song and Katsuki frowns a little, turning his head to the side and sticking his tongue out at you. Studs in his ears glisten and his skin glows with the presence of the sunlight.The cycle has a while to go with another two sides set to turn green before yours. A thick hand squeezes your palm as the large man to your left taps his foot to the beat. His lips move slightly as he mimics the words near silently, merely hushed.  

Taking in the image in front of you, you sigh. The black compression shirt highlights every muscle he has. Perked nipples press against the fabric as if they’re begging to be put on display. Your eyes trail down his body for a moment, tongue flicking out to wet pretty lips. Something thick like honey starts to settle in your veins and slowly it begins to cloud your thoughts. 

You bring his hand up to your lips, kissing the back of it and setting it down near the gear shift. He doesn’t pay any mind to it, too preoccupied with watching traffic and listening to music. Nimble fingers slowly reach toward his thigh to slide over the fabric there. 

Katsuki’s tapping stops. His mind halts momentarily, carmine eyes glancing down, before he taps to the rhythm again. A horn blares in the distance and the AC is no match for the way his body is beginning to heat. The faint smell of caramel seeps into your senses and sets you on fire. It makes you bold, whispers little things to you. 

But Katsuki? His mind races and goes over every possibility on the planet of what you have planned. It settles on something innocent. You’re just wanting to rest your hand there, he thinks. 

He is wrong. 

Your fingers trail little circles over dark fabric in repetition, while moving closer to his inner thigh. The music changes and you feel the need to wet your lips again. Katsuki begins to get cotton mouth but he swallows spit down to soothe it.

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy, if it doesn’t you ain’t doing it right. 

Katsuki thanks his lucky stars that the light turns green with a fuzzy mind. The bottom of his shoe presses on the pedal and the car begins to speed up. He tries not to think too much about your movements. But he his only a man, who’s slowly being put into a trance. 

Lord save me, my drug is my baby. I’ll be using for the rest of my life. 

He swallows again and presses a button on the steering wheel, murmuring lowly to the slowed down song. The blonde beside you seems to be unaffected in your eyes. That just won’t do. He feels your fingers move upwards toward his clothed cock that’s beginning to chub in his pants and lets out a deep sigh. It goes on like that for a while, you brush your palm over him a couple times and feign innocence. And he just keeps driving, seeming unaffected despite your best efforts. 

You glance over at him, his jaw is set and eyes narrow. Tension makes the air thick like the hardening length beneath his belt. You look back at the road, then lean to the side and begin unbuckling his belt. That makes him freeze. His body feels like it’s on fire. 

God knows he’s at your mercy. Forced to drive while you’re toying with him, playing him like a fucking fiddle. He doesn’t even remember where he’s supposed to be going anymore, at some point he just kept driving without thinking. He lets out a slow breath to settle himself when you unzip his pants. 

“Babe.” Katsuki grits, only to hear an innocent hmm? Sound in return. 

He’s going to start leaking soon, cock straining against his boxers. And your start palming lightly at it like the little minx you are. He spots a massive car wash that appears vacant out of the corner of his eye and flicks on the blinker. 

Your hand’s started rubbing and palming at him through his boxers. The head of his cock smears precum on the inside of them, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His hand shakes while turning the AC on full blast, desperate for something to cool him off. Glancing at the mirror, he merges over a few lanes and turns into the car wash. 

When the car pulls in, you remove your hand and blink a little. Katsuki wordlessly grabs his wallet from the center console and shoves his card in, picking the most expensive and extensive wash he can. 

“I thought we were going home..” Your brows furrow, looking around a little. 

“Nope.” He pops the “p” and pulls in before putting the car in park and unbuckling his seat belt. His seat slides back a little to give him some leg room. Large sprayers begin to cover the car in foam and soap. The loud scrubbers going to work.

Katsuki tugs at the waistband of his boxers, setting his cock free. It springs up toward his tummy while slick substance dribbles from the tip of it. He gives it a little stroke as his head falls back, teeth digging into his plush bottom lip. His eyes are half lidded when he looks at you and grunts. 

“Get the fuck over here and suck.”  He reaches a hand under the side of his seat and leans the seat back a little more. You nod and unbuckle the seatbelt. 

Your fingers wrap around him and stroke in a wringing motion. His cock twitches in your hand and he pants. Heat spreads all over both of your bodies and the car wash is so loud you can only hear eachother. His breaths come out in short pants like he’s catching it. 

“Fuck, yeah, like that pretty.” His tanned jaw drops a little when your tongue lays flat against the head. 

You lap at the precum like it’s your favorite thing on the earth to taste. His fingers thread through your hair, tugging at the roots and pushing your head down. Katsuki resists every urge to buck up into your mouth the best he can despite the coil tightly winding in his tummy. But you’re doing so good.

Sucking him like a champ, slurping and making a mess. Spit dribbles down toward his balls but soaks into the waistband of  his boxers. And then you’re sinking down and humming, hand reaching down. He grabs at the side of the car door and braces himself. He can’t keep quiet, letting out long strings of groans and moans. The praise makes your pussy soak through your panties and you think about rubbing your clit for relief. 

“God, take it. Suck my cock, yeah, yeah, shit.” 

That’s all it takes to spur you on. You press a finger near his taint and watch his face scrunch. The car smells like his sweat and those stupid air refresher clips in the vents, leather seats becoming slippery from your fun. Your lips pop off him wetly and you look up to him with such pretty, doey eyes, that he almost cums then. His forearm veins peek out to play as the car door gets squeezed in a death grip. Your lips wrap around the head of his cock and you suck. Hard. Simultaneously you press the finger past the ring of muscle and up to a knuckle. Your hand strokes what you can’t fit in your mouth, trying to focus. 

And just like that the band snaps. Euphoria wracks his body and he fucks up into your mouth, head thrown back as he sings expletives and spills. It seeps from your lips, despite you trying to swallow it all down, but you use a tongue to swipe it up. 

“Oh god, god-” He whimpers out while riding out the high.

Katsuki feels like his entire body is strung high for a moment. His chest heaves and his fingers shake when you pull your mouth off him and give him a quick kiss.Your pussy is soaked and your clit throbs like it has a heartbeat of it own. Sweat has built at the back of his neck and his nipples stay perked. You glance at the lights in the carwash and see there’s still four other things left. Something about scent and bug shield— you don’t know, there’s suds of different colors all over the windows.

You swipe a thumb over his nipple while keeping a finger still in his ass. He whimpers at that and presses his lips into a thin line, gripping your arm so hard it might bruise if he squeezes any tighter. But you persist and stroke his cock with fever.

“I can’t, oh, god baby I can’t it’s-” Katsuki whines out and shakes. His voice goes up in pitch for a moment while desperately trying to hang on to his sanity. You tighten your fingers around him and start pressing the finger inside him upwards. 

His body spasms then goes completely still. Katsuki’s entire body is tight on a string, the only thing keeping him on this god forsaken earth being your pretty hands. Heaven wraps him up in a blanket and makes his chest wrack. Carmine eyes roll back, the hand that was once gripping your forearm now dragging nails down it. Your pussy clenches around nothing and the breath is knocked out of you in awe.

Hot white ropes spill all over your hand. You quickly move the finger out of his asshole and instead use it to anchor you on the seat while you suck the cum off of his cock. It twitches in your hand and mouth with sensitivity. You’re addicted to him, is reactions, his cum— like they’re a drug. 

Lust clouds your mind heavier than it possibly ever has when you look into his half lidded eyes. He’s swallowing your pretty little soul whole and making it a home, making it his. Cum dribbles off the corner of your lip and Katsuki leans forward to lick it off for you. 

His breathing slows and he tosses his head back with a breathy laugh. The car begins to be rinsed and you reach into the console for emergency wipes and toss one on his softening member. He cleans up with a wince and wipes some from your neck while you focus on your hands getting clean. 

“We should come here more.” Katsuki suggests wit a cheeky grin, brow raised and pants now buttoned again. 

“Absolutely. For now.. Let’s get home before I make you pay for another round and eat me out.” You buckle your seatbelt and roll your eyes with a snicker.

You look at him with a fire in your eyes and puffy lips. You grab his hand and kiss his knuckles again, this time linking your fingers together before he pulls out of the car wash and heads home.

[scarapanna]

do the feathers ever get itchy

100%

He's been "dormant" for years and years, def still needs time to get used to em

[lunarbun-ships]

nobody look at me!!!!!!!!!

[scary-grace]

hands-off, hands-on - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

This was inspired by this art and a comment left on it about the risks of trying to jerk off with a quirk like Decay. It was also inspired by @obsessedtomone and @scarlettcryptid, who encouraged me to write it and then to post it. The pun in the title was my idea and not their fault.

Shigaraki's quirk makes life difficult in a lot of ways, but there's only one he can't find a way around, and since you joined the League of Villains, it's gotten even worse. When the truth comes out at last, he's expecting it to be a disaster and nothing else. He definitely isn't expecting you to offer to help. (cross-posted to Ao3) Canonverse, one-shot, smut.

Shigaraki Tomura’s quirk is everything to him. It’s how he found himself alone in the world as a five-year-old, even if he can’t remember the details. It’s why Sensei took an interest in him, why Sensei took him in, why Sensei chose him to carry on his work. It’s the perfect tool for someone like Shigaraki, who hates everything, who wants nothing more than to destroy everything he doesn’t like. Decay is the best thing that’s ever happened to Shigaraki. And at the same time, it absolutely, categorically sucks.

Shigaraki might hate everything, but he doesn’t hate it all the time, and the times when he doesn’t hate it are times when he’d love to be able to just have whatever it is without being one wrong move away from ruining it. Name a thing he likes, and his quirk is ready and waiting to fuck it up – gaming, eating, sleeping, even reading the fucking newspaper. He can do all those things four-fingered, if he stays focused. It’s the stuff he can’t stay focused on that’s impossible.

He can’t stay focused when he’s horny, at least not enough to keep from potentially Decaying his dick off. Shigaraki doesn’t actually know if his quirk works on himself, and he’s not interested in finding out. And that means that no matter how horny Shigaraki gets or how many poorly timed boners he pops, jerking off is permanently off the table.

That’s not to say Shigaraki’s never finished. He has. He’s spent so much time humping pillows that he had to learn to do his own laundry. But there’s something really pathetic about being twenty years old with two working hands and still be stuck grinding on a pillow to make himself come, and it always takes so stupidly long. Now that Shigaraki’s got the League of Villains, now that he’s got plans to make and Sensei’s legacy to fulfill, he doesn’t have that kind of time. When he wakes up with the world’s worst morning wood after a dream he doesn’t remember clearly, there’s nothing he can do but wait for it to go away.

It fades – enough – but the feeling doesn’t, and eventually Shigaraki doesn’t have a choice but to drag himself out of bed. He slinks from his room to the bar, hoping it’ll be empty, with the rest of the League out and about preparing for the mission and Kurogiri somewhere nearby if Shigaraki needs him but not actually right there to ask him what’s bothering him. Shigaraki can pour his own drinks. Maybe he can get out of this if he gives himself whiskey dick on purpose. Kurogiri’s not in the bar, just like he was hoping, but it’s not empty, either. You’re there, sprawled out over the bar with a sweating glass of water on a coaster in front of you.

Shigaraki’s jaw clenches at the sight. “What are you doing here?” he demands, and you look up. “Don’t you have something to do?”

“I did it already.” You yawn. “Using my quirk tires me out.”

“Really?” Shigaraki can’t keep the irritation out of his voice. “Making people stupid is that exhausting?”

Your quirk is a weird one. It lets you increase or decrease a target’s ability to plan, reason, problem-solve, remember things, and learn – in other words, their intelligence. “From this distance, for as many people as you need me to hit?” You yawn again and drop your head back down to the bar. “Yeah. Remember, I have to keep them all being stupid the same way, right up until it’s too late. Or your plan won’t work.”

Shigaraki had the pieces of the plan before he made you use your quirk on him, but once you used the quirk on him, he did some fine-tuning on the strategy, and he came up with the idea of using your quirk the opposite way, too. While the rest of the League is planning to make the attack on UA’s summer training camp a success, you’re using your quirk every day on the heroes in charge of planning the camp itself. Shigaraki’s not actually going to know if it works until after the attack, and that pisses him off. “Go nap somewhere else, then.”

“I’m not going to bother you,” you say. “Where else am I supposed to go, anyway? Your room?”

Shigaraki’s this close to saying yes, just to get you to leave, before he remembers what his room looks like – and remembers that he spent a while trying to see if grinding one out would work this time. He can’t kick you out of the hideout. You look like shit, and you’ll attract a lot of attention. “Fine. Shut up.”

“Yep.” You fold your arms on the bar and rest your head on them, shutting your eyes.

Even when you aren’t looking at him or talking, your presence bothers Shigaraki. It’s bothered him since the beginning – as much as he’s bothered by the others, in a different way than he’s bothered by the others. While the others can at least manage to avoid pissing Shigaraki off, there’s nothing you do that doesn’t cause some kind of problem. If you’re talking to him too much, he’s annoyed because he doesn’t know why you’re talking to him. If you’re not talking to him, he’s pissed about that, too. If you’re not around, he’s mad that you’re avoiding him, and if you are around, he wishes you weren’t. The fact that you’re here was a big problem for him even before he started having the dreams.

Shigaraki can’t remember the details of last night’s dream, but he knows you were in it. He pours himself a drink, takes the bottle with him, and sits down at the far end of the bar from you. You don’t look up again, and Shigaraki finishes his first drink, then half of his second, with no improvement on the situation. He shifts on the barstool, trying to get more comfortable. He needs to find something else to do. Something that will distract him from how stupidly horny he is.

You’re right there, and being irritated with you for doing anything at all is as good a distraction as anything else. “If all you’re doing is making a couple of heroes slightly dumber, you’re not really pulling your weight, are you?”

You don’t stir, but Shigaraki sees your shoulders stiffen. “What else should I be doing?”

“More,” Shigaraki says. You lift your head to look at him dead on, and Shigaraki hates that so much that he loses his train of thought for a second. “I don’t want them slightly dumber. I want them so stupid they can’t walk in a straight line. You have to get closer to them for that? So get closer. Get out of here and –”

“If I make them that stupid, the heroes will know that something’s wrong,” you interrupt. “My quirk’s in the government databases. If I do anything too obvious, they’ll know I’m working with you, and they’ll change their plans. Or they’ll change who they’re using to execute those plans. For my quirk to work on someone, I need to know who they are.”

Shigaraki knows how your quirk works. He’s not stupid. “I could do what you want me to do, but it would ruin your plans,” you say. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I wanted to take a nap,” you say. You sit up straight on your stool, get to your feet and start towards Shigaraki. “Now I want to know what I did to piss you off.”

You’re coming closer. Shigaraki feels a surge of panic. “Get away from me.”

“No.” You sit down one barstool away from Shigaraki, but still way too close for comfort. Shigaraki’s skin feels hot, and in spite of the fact that he left his room wearing sweatpants, they’re getting tight. “You let me join the League, but ever since I got here, I can’t do anything right. You’re mad at me all the time, and today you’re even madder than usual.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” you say. You keep staring. Shigaraki looks away, and you say the first thing he’s ever heard you say that makes you sound like a villain. “Either you can tell me the truth, or I’ll use my quirk on myself and figure it out.”

Shigaraki’s stomach lurches. “I thought you were too tired to use your quirk.”

“Not on myself,” you say. Shigaraki glances back at you. You’re almost smiling. He’s seen you smile before, talking to Toga or Magne, but not like that. “You can tell me, or I’ll find out on my own. Your choice.”

You’re not screwing around. Shigaraki thinks fast. He could Decay you, but – Shigaraki writes off the thought before he can even complete it. He has to tell you something, and it has to be convincing. But he doesn’t have to tell you everything to keep you from using your quirk. It’s going to be humiliating, but nowhere close to as humiliating as the whole truth, and he opens his mouth and spits it out. “I’m horny.”

You blink. “So jerk off.”

“I can’t.” Shigaraki sees your eyebrows lift, skeptical as hell, and loses patience, even as his face heats up. “My quirk. Anything I touch with five fingers –”

“And you can’t jerk off without –” You break off mid-question, looking just as uncomfortable as Shigaraki feels. “So you’ve never –”

“No, I have, I just –” This is way more information than you need to know. Shigaraki grits his teeth. “You wanted an answer. There’s your answer. Leave me alone.”

You don’t leave Shigaraki alone. You actually move over onto the stool next to his. “So you’re just going to be a dick to me any time you’re horny.”

It’s your fault Shigaraki’s horny. Before you showed up, he could deal with things on his own, but now instead of videos and games to fixate on he has fantasies – because he can imagine about what you’d look like under him, what you’d sound like, what you’d feel like. All of which are the worst possible things for Shigaraki to be thinking about right now. He’s completely hard, again. Maybe you can tell, or maybe you’re using your quirk on him after all, because you’re making a really weird face. “If you’re going to be a dick any time you’re horny –”

You break off. Shigaraki thinks, fleetingly, about Decaying you. At this point he’d rather Decay himself, because if even he kills you, he’ll still have to remember that this happened. You take a deep breath, let it go. “Do you want help?”

Shigaraki’s mind blue-screens for a second. “What?”

“If this is why you’re like this, then it’s easy to fix,” you repeat. Your hands are clenched into fists on your thighs, and you slowly uncurl them. “Do you want me to help?”

“Help with what?”

“Jerking off,” you say. You make an awkward gesture, and every muscle in Shigaraki’s body goes tense as he imagines your hands around his cock. You have to be messing with him. There’s no way you’re actually offering – that. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Shigaraki finishes his drink and stands up before he can think any more about it. He grimaces as his cock strains against the fabric of his pants, and feels a surge of embarrassment when he realizes you’re looking at it – but it’ll be over soon. In the face of getting some, and getting it from you, nothing else matters. “Let’s go.”

Shigaraki’s nerves kick in on the walk back to his room. Not enough to make the hard-on he’s coping with fade even slightly, but enough to remind him that this is probably a bad idea. But you’re following him, and you haven’t changed your mind. Shigaraki’s not chickening out first. The nerves get worse when he opens the door to his room and realizes what a mess it is. “Uh –”

“Where do you usually sit?” You don’t look impressed – or disgusted, now that Shigaraki thinks about it. “On the bed?”

Shigaraki sits down on the bed – which he didn’t make, because he never makes it – and you sit down next to him. You don’t do anything. “I thought you were going to help me.”

“Show me what you do,” you say. Shigaraki stares at you. His heart is racing, his pulse hammering so hard that he feels it everywhere. “Go as far as you can, and then I’ll keep doing what you do.”

That makes sense, probably. Shigaraki’s mind is startling to scramble. He decides to think about it later and catches the hem of his shirt, hiking it up and out of the way. He knows from experience that it’ll slide back, so he pins it between his teeth and reaches down to his waistband, shoving at it until his pants are down around his thighs and his cock is free.

His hard-on looks like it feels. Uncomfortable, leaking, hot to the touch when he wraps three fingers and his thumb around his shaft. Shigaraki tries a few of the same insufficient strokes as always and feels the muscles in his abdomen and thighs clench. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. A frustrated sound edges out around the fabric in Shigaraki’s mouth. Aren’t you supposed to help him? He looks at you. You’re looking away.

“Hey,” Shigaraki says, the hem of the shirt falling from his mouth, and you look at him. “You wanted to help. Pay attention.”

Your face is flushed. You nod, and you reach out – but only so you can grasp the hem of Shigaraki’s shirt and pull it out of the way again, your knuckles brushing over his abdomen in a way that makes him twitch. You’re sitting closer to him now than you were before, close enough that he can almost feel the heat of your body, and imagine how it would feel to have you pressed against him. One of your hands is holding his shirt up. The other comes to rest on his lower abdomen, fingertips brushing through his hair, centimeters away from the base of his cock.

Shigaraki squirms involuntarily, trying to move your hand lower and jeopardizing his own strokes at the same time. Even when he lifts his hips to meet his own hand, he can’t lose control the way he wants to, can’t chase the feeling he needs. He needs it. He needs it and he’s never come even close to having it, until now. Shigaraki tries to focus. You’re only going to help once he’s gone as far as he can, so he’d better get there as fast as possible.

He shouldn’t have told you to pay attention. Now you’re watching everything, your face still flushed and your eyes glued to Shigaraki’s every move, taking everything in. Do you like this? Do you like watching Shigaraki’s pathetic attempts to get himself off? Whether you like it or not, you’re still touching him when you don’t have to. Shigaraki’s fingers tighten involuntarily around his cock, his fourth finger almost coming down, and he loosens up in a hurry. But that’s no good, either. He tries again.

It’s the same as always. Shigaraki makes it one or two strokes before it gets dangerous, enough to show him what he could have and not enough to get him there. He’s sweaty and his heart is beating too hard and the same frustrated tears as always are stinging his eyes. He curses, lets go – and a warm hand slides between his legs to replace his.

Shigaraki almost comes on the spot. It takes every ounce of willpower he has, and he almost blows it again as he watches you adjust your hold on him, shaping your hand more closely around his cock. You’re slow about it, but you sure as hell aren’t hesitant. Shigaraki can’t look for longer than a few strokes. It’s too humiliating to see the intensity of his own reaction, precum oozing from the tip of his cock and his hips jerking upwards into your hand. He clenches his jaw and shuts his eyes.

“Hey. Pay attention.” Are you making fun of him? Shigaraki opens his eyes and finds you looking at him. “I need to know if I’m doing it right.”

“What do you think?” Shigaraki forces the words out through gritted teeth. “Do you need me to tell you you’re doing a good job or something?”

“That might be nice,” you muse. Your hold on him loosens slightly – not enough to complain about, more than enough to read as a threat. “Since I can’t do anything else right around here, I at least want to be good at getting you off.”

Your grip tightens again, and you run your thumb lightly over the tip of Shigaraki’s cock at the end of the next stroke. Shigaraki couldn’t pull a move like that if his fucking life depended on it, which it would. He was going to tell you not to ask stupid questions, like if you’re good at getting him off when he’s two seconds away from blowing his load all over himself, but instead he moans, so loudly that people can probably hear it two streets away. You replay the same stroke, slower this time, pulling Shigaraki’s back into an arch to match the upward motion of your hand, and then you spend a few seconds just toying with his tip, barely touching him at all.

Are you trying to make him squirm? Shigaraki hates that it’s working, hates that you won’t just give him what he needs – but then you’re back to stroking his cock again, and Shigaraki relaxes, as much as it’s possible to relax. It feels good, even better than he thought it would. And even better than that, because he doesn’t have to do anything. All he has to do is sit back and enjoy it.

“Hold your shirt up,” you say, and Shigaraki grabs it clumsily. Your now-free hand traces quickly down Shigaraki’s chest, along his stomach, skidding sideways over his hip before sliding between his legs. There’s not room for both of your hands. Shigaraki spreads his legs without thinking twice.

You make a weird sound – maybe a gasp. “Stop that,” you say, but now you’re cradling his balls in addition to stroking his cock, so Shigaraki’s not interested in stopping much of anything. “It’s working.”

No shit it’s working. Shigaraki’s entire body is wound tight, so much that he can’t even twitch or thrust or squirm – all he can do is strain, agonizingly tense, every atom of his body focused on the motion of your hands. Shigaraki squeezes his eyes shut. His shirt crumbles away as he claws at it, the sheets on his bed going the same way a second later as he fights to ground himself. He needs more. Shigaraki needs to come right now, before he grabs onto something he can’t replace.

The word struggles out of his mouth sideways, twisted and strained just like the rest of him. “Please –”

You don’t answer him, but Shigaraki feels you shift closer to him. He opens his eyes and you’re right there, close enough that he can feel your breath against his skin. You’re watching him, head tilted, lips parted, so close. Shigaraki’s so close, and he needs more from you. He seizes the front of your shirt to pull you down to him, only for it to Decay when you’re halfway there. But Shigaraki gets lucky. You lean in the rest of the way and press your lips against his.

It’s not because of that. Shigaraki’s coming hard enough to see stars, hard enough that he blacks out for a second, but it’s not because you’re kissing him. His cum spills everywhere, onto his sweatpants and his stomach and over your fingers, and you keep stroking him with slick hands. You don’t pull away until Shigaraki’s whining against your mouth and you’ve drawn out every drop of cum he has to give.

And then you sit back, and let go, and look away. “I need a new shirt.”

You’re sitting next to him, on his bed, in just your bra. The sight would get Shigaraki hard again in an instant if you hadn’t just made him come hard enough to disconnect his spine. He raises a shaky hand and points to his hoodie, slung over the back of his computer chair, but you don’t go for it. Instead you get up and head to the bathroom to wash your hands.

Shigaraki needs to wash everything. His sweatpants, himself – the stupid mattress, since he was dumb enough to Decay the sheets off it right before he blew what feels like the biggest load in history. What else was he supposed to do, though? No way was he going to be able to control himself while you worked him over. No way is he going to be able to think about anything else the next time he sees you do anything with your hands. Or with your mouth.

It occurs to Shigaraki vaguely that while he’s solved the initial problem of being too horny to function, he’s set himself up for something even worse – more dreams, made all the more vivid because he’s got experience to back them up. He might be good to go for now. Probably for the rest of the day, since it’ll be a miracle if he can do anything other than clean up and take a nap. But he’ll be right back where he started the next time he wakes up from another dream about you.

The water from the sink shuts off, and a moment later you come back out, snagging Shigaraki’s hoodie off the chair and pulling it on over your bra. Shigaraki feels a faint twinge of foreboding at the sight, but it fades fast. Sure, he could wake up tomorrow morning with the boner from hell and it’ll be all your fault. But now he’s got a way out of it, and the way out of it is so good that what it takes to get there barely even matters. And he’s in a good enough mood to admit to himself that you do things right a lot more than you do things wrong.

Which reminds him – “Hey,” Shigaraki says, still humiliatingly breathless, and you pause in the act of pulling the hood up. “You did a good job.”

He might still be out of breath, but your face is still flushed. “Good,” you say, and you turn to leave. Shigaraki doesn’t hear you speak again until you’re already out the door. “Next time I’ll do better.”

Better might kill him. Next time. Shigaraki pulls up his sweatpants so his dick isn’t hanging out, makes no other effort at cleaning up, and falls asleep with something that feels like a smile on his face.

[stupidlittlespirit]

Idk if this is too much of an ask (but my fiancée and I are huge fans of your MTB series and we're getting married today! Teehee) (and my ass is on tumblr rn instead of getting ready)

Do you have any fun facts that you'd be willing to share about Ford that wouldn't otherwise be brought up in the fics?

Idk if that's a dumb question lol sorry if it is

OMG NO WAY?!!!!!!!!!!!!! CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!!!!! That's so amazing, also mood being on tumblr when you're supposed to be getting ready lmaooooo!

I hope your day is incredible, I'm toasting my cup of tea to you rn <3

In terms of facts, hmm..... I don't necessarily have anything I can give you in that sense but seeing as it's your freaking WEDDING, I can offer a measly gift of a tiny little unpublished fic for you both. It's really not much, it was just an exercise I did based on puns but.... Fresh from the pages of the Library of Alex-Stan-dria (aka my warm up doc) :

Rating: NSFW (implied) Type: Drabble - part of the Maid to Be AU Pairing: Ford Pines x reader Tags: Word play (??), drinking, teasing, car talk, Stan Pines, Ford Pines Word count: 1422

Tonight, the summer air is thick and cloying as you sit out on the porch of the Pines' house, your feet kicked up on a spare crate and a half empty bottle of cheap beer dangling from your fingers. 

The working day is finally done and every chore has been ticked off of your list just in time for the setting sun to finally recede below the distant horizon. Your back aches and you'd planned to head straight home to soothe your muscles with a warm shower, but life rarely goes as planned whenever you're in the presence of this family. You'd barely even gotten a hand on the front door before Stan had deployed his disarming wiles to sweet talk (see: bully) you into joining he and his brother for a nightcap, and those aches had melted away in the face of an easy time with two of your favourite people. 

The four generously large bottles you've already tanked down are sitting warmly in your stomach and the edges of your vision are ever so slightly skewed in a familiar, pleasantly boozy way. 

Stan is lounging like an overfed housecat in the wicker chair in front of you, a thick lit cigar perched between his lips as he too settles into the effects of a few too many drinks himself. Acrid smoke plumes up and around his head as he brags about his beloved car for the fifth time tonight and his words mingle amongst the crickets and cicadas that sing from the forest’s edge. 

You'd made the mistake of bringing up your personal driving opinions in his presence and now you're being subjected to an earful from him on everything car-related. They're his own personal PhD specialism and you really should have known better than to have tempted the bull with such a red flag.

To Stan's left, his brother sits leisurely in his own weathered rattan chair, watching you both with amused, if glazed, eyes. Ford's been working hard all week on some fancy paper he expects to publish soon and this is his miniature reward for taking a break: a casual kickback free of complex biology and laden with his sibling's charm. You're sure he'd rather be working but when he'd become aware you'd be joining them, it had been enough to seduce him into a few hours of down time. 

Part of you thinks he'd been looking for an excuse to take some time away, but another, prouder part thinks it's sweet that your presence is enough to tempt him into some minor truancy. It doesn't happen often and you're willing to privately take a little credit for it, just this once. 

Ford's usually-prim posture is slackened tonight; the exhaustion wears heavily on his handsome face and though he hasn't had as much to drink as you or Stan, it seems tiredness is enough to mimic mild intoxication. He sprawls in his seat, slumped down, legs open wide, taking up space that he might otherwise be inclined to save. He still looks dashing, though, in your humble opinion. 

His dark eyes flick from Stan to you as you parry one another's quips, but his gaze lingers on you for longer than he might normally allow in such a public setting. It isn't heated, he isn't that far gone just yet, but it's indulgent and it makes you feel hot under the collar all the same.

“No way,” Stan is saying, vigorously shaking his head as he disagrees with your assertion about the drive-ability of your own claptrap car. “My Diablo is the finest old girl you've ever seen. Nothin’ runs as smooth as she does.” 

“You're biased!” you accuse him light-heartedly, pointing a finger at him. “You've never even driven anything else!” 

“That's a valid point,” Ford chimes in helpfully, smirking. “Statistically speaking.”

You toss him a pleased smile and Stan rolls his eyes. Ford's ears tint rouge.

“You drive a shitbox van,” Stan snarks. “What do you know about good cars?” 

“First of all," you say haughtily, offended on your car's behalf. "She isn't a shit box, she's a classic from 1984 and you'll treat her with respect if you want me to keep hauling your stuff about in her.” You stick your tongue out at him as Stan mutters something under his breath about how '84 barely qualifies as historically classic.

“And," you go on with a huff, “I have car knowledge too, thank you very much. It's not like I intend to keep the same car until I die, unlike some people.” 

“Oh yeah?” Stan teases, sounding tickled. “And what do you want? A little Fiat? One of those prissy ass electric cars? You look like the type.” 

Clumsily, you lift your foot off the crate and kick him gently in the side of his shin. He kicks you back. “No, asshole, I want something big. Like a...." You wrack your brains through the rolodex of classic cars adverts you keep saved on your laptop for if you ever win big one day. "An F1-50. A 1950 model with a big fat engine in it.” 

Stan guffaws, gravelly and charmingly demeaning. “That? You're too small for one of those, you'd never be able to handle all that.” 

“What about a Capri? Or a ‘69 Mustang?” you argue back. 

Ford’s smirk grows. It’s less out of understanding (Stan’s the true gearhead here) and more from pure mirth at the fight you’re valiantly putting up. 

“You got a world of options out there, kid, why not expand into something more exotic?” Stan says, punctuating his sentence with a solid puff of his cigar. The gold signet ring on his finger glints in the low light as he flexes his grip around the stem and smoke billows out from his mouth.

You shrug one shoulder and, under the cover of his puffing, your eyes flick to his brother as you say with a smothered smile: “I don't know, I just think Ford's offer the best ride.” 

Stan laughs at the comment, his tipsy mind sailing clean past the double entendre in favour of needling your choice with more dismissive laughter. But your shot hits its mark when Ford almost sloshes his tentative mouthful of warm beer down the front of his sweater at your words.

“No chance,” Stan scoffs, none the wiser. “I bet you've never even driven one.” 

It's your turn to scoff now. “Of course I have,” you say assuredly. “I have plenty of experience.”

No one else knows of the covert sins you commit with the not-always-so-sweet doctor sitting just across from you and the two of you intend to keep it that way for the time being. Still, that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt in the face of danger every now and then. It’s fun to keep Ford on his toes and though you know (hope) you’ll pay for your brazenness later, the opportunity is too enticing to resist. 

You’ll blame that squarely on the drink.

“Oh yeah?” Stan says, swigging his beer. “Like?”

“All sorts. The bigger the better, in my opinion.” You smirk. “But I prefer vintage, myself.” 

To the left of his brother, poor Ford is forcing himself to hide his laughter with a tactfully placed hand over his mouth as he leans on the arm of his chair. He's fortunate that it's dark out here beyond the candles on the patio table because you can tell his face is burning brighter than an ill-prepared sunbather at your words. He shoots you a look (one that is most definitely heated) when Stan pauses to rub smoke from his eyes, but you only return it with a quick, coy smirk that serves to darken his blush further. 

“Vintage breaks down if you don't know how to take good care of it,” Stan says confidently. “I do all my fine tuning myself, y’know.” 

“I rode mine pretty hard but it always held up well,” you say, trying to bite back the grin that threatens to take over your face. “I’m a gentle hand when I want to be. I’d do just fine with something like that, trust me.” 

Stan’s nose wrinkles in annoyance at the smoke and he chases its burn away, smartly, with more drink. “Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t think you’d be able to deal with that much raw power.”

You spare Ford a very subtle, well timed look that he meets with equal revelry.

“You know, I think you’d be surprised at what I can handle….”

MAZEL TOV! Sorry it's not much but I hope it's enough for you to glance at when you get the chance! <3 Sending you all the love in the world!

[silentstyx]

We Were Jet-Set, Bonnie and Clyde

sum! Make them pull off a heist.

tw! jacobs skinny jeans.

yall i saw this on perchance.org and had to do this bro like you alr know. ALSO IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!!!

So this is how you were gonna meet his friends, through a game?

"It's not a game! It's a very specific routine we do every Halloween. We become criminals." He said all of this with no underlying joking tone. Just an 'evil' smirk. Finger tips touching each other as he rests his forearms on the table as he tells you his plan.

"Ah so New York's Finest are really the worst ones, hm? You become criminals annually?" You say jokingly, only he didn't find it funny even a little bit.

His shoulders slumped as he let his bottom lip pout the tiniest bit, his voice becoming whiny as well, "Do you wanna help me or not?!"

You only could chuckle at the sight. He looked so adorable when he was frustrated.

You let out a dramatic sigh, a playful smirk staining your lips, "Fineee, I guess I'll help you publicly embarrass your coworkers."

His pout turned to a smile of amusement and pure joy, "Perfect!"

So the plan was...

The award was to be held in a plastic box again this year. You didn't work there so buy a janitor costume, they'll never realize. Except, they can check purchasing history at the station. So you bribe a janitor-

"We're taking the clothes off of a janitor's back?" You ask with faux-concern, "Why don't I buy janitors costume at like a costume store thats like an hour away if you're so concerned about it? I'll use cash."

You could've sworn his eyes lit up when you said that.

The day of the heist went just according to plan and you had the award the whole time until the last 30 minutes when you pawned it off to Jake, where he kept it in his desk (a place no one would dare to go or search). It was perfect. He played dumb and was as feisty as ever, acting like he had no idea where the trophy could possibly be. That Holt must have the award because who else would?

After the heist was officially over and he was bragging about winning is when they all started asking questions.

"How'd you even pull this off, we checked all around your desk and you're wearing skinny jeans so you can't hide anything?" Rosa asked, arms crossed.

"Well first of all, was it necessary to bring up my super cool and super stylish jeans?" He playfully whines, "second of all, let me show you my partner, in more ways than one."

He points to you and you stopped the fake sweeping you were doing in the corner, taking the hat off. You smile at them and wave, "Nice to meet you all! Jake has said so much about you."

[warcats-cat]

Confinement

Summary: In Hermes’ incredibly correct and not at all humble opinion, humans should have stuck with horses, but then humans went off and invented cars. Awful... Hermes loved you; he really did. He adored you. But he loathed your car.

A/N: I'M ALIVE I SWEAR!!! I'm still writing for Hermes and this fandom!!! I love you all and I've MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! TLDR - I was in a car accident right after my birthday at the beginning of April, and while I wasn't badly injured, I've been mentally all over the place since then. Recovery-Scatter-Brain and Stress-Scatter-Brain are real... ANYWAY the irony is that I have had this one written for like forever and I was gearing up to post it right before I had my accident. So I guess Hermes was just trying to warn me in his own loving, mysterious, mischievous way. Also I linked to a song within the fic; it is one of my favorites to sing and one I sang as a part of my Senior Recital when I graduated university; if you take the time to listen I really do hope you enjoy it! (ALSO also, because of this, the reader does refer to themself as 'female' but only in the context of the song!) I hope you guys enjoy this one and hopefully I will have another edited/polished and posted for you before the two month mark... as always please let me know if I've missed any tags and have a truly lovely day, darlings!!!

Read on Ao3 Here!

-----

In Hermes’ incredibly correct and not at all humble opinion, humans should have stuck with horses.

Really, it was the altogether better option, compared to other modes of transportation, although he'd never tell his uncle that. Especially now, in the ‘modern era’ as humans called it, when things like capitalism and pollution and climate change hung over humans’ heads like a guillotine.

Horses didn't need oil from hundreds of cubits underground; they could just graze the grasses around where they were. Horses still went pretty fast over land compared to walking. Horses didn't stink like death-plastic-smoke that was worse than Tartarus.

But humans had gone and invented cars.

Awful.

Sure, cars went fast. Not nearly as fast as him, but Hermes was the god of speed; nothing went as fast as him. Cars could go a lot faster than horses, and in America, where the land was so massive and everything spread out so far, Hermes supposed it was nice to get to the grocer as quickly as possible.

But cars were also considerably small.

Therein lay the problem.

He wasn't necessarily claustrophobic, but Hermes didn't like small spaces. He didn't like feeling trapped. And cars did exactly that - with heavy metal doors that slammed and locked like prison cells, rough, scraping straps that pinned one in place (for safety, of course, which he couldn't begrudge; but he didn't have to like it), uncomfortable seats that pretended to be the ‘luxury’ of real leather even though he could smell the oily plastic layered in to make it cheaper.

And the windows only made things worse somehow - opening them made the winds beat the inside of the car and the unfortunate rider’s ears, easily causing hearing damage with the constant concussion. He’d tried pushing his head out, once; curious at seeing some teens in a car ahead of them do so, but the same beating effect applied; making his eyes sting and his ears ring from the force of it.

He didn't even have that problem when he was flying.

Hermes loved you; he really did. He adored you. But he loathed your car.

“I could get us to the craft store a lot faster,” he said to you, the barest hint of a whine in his voice. If he played it just right, with a little pout and a little whine, maybe he could change your mind.

“You would have to carry me, not to mention anything we bought, and I don't want to lose my supplies in your bag-of-holding.” You replied, not even looking at his big, slightly watery puppy-eyes. 

No luck…

He sighed, and let his face drop back to normal. At least he understood the reference you made this time - you’d called his messenger bag a bag-of-holding a few times before he asked about it; it was a bag, it was supposed to hold stuff? But you were referring to a game you liked to play on nights he was away; a special bag that could hold almost anything a person put inside it, and was nearly endless. He’d had to admit after that that it was a fair nickname.

And it wasn't necessarily that things got lost in his bag; he could call up any paper or item that was in it by just thinking about it. It was that he could conveniently forget to grab some things back out. Or slip things in to hide them for later.

He was the god of thieves and master of tricks. Sue him. 

He stared down the door handle of your car as if he could make it cower like a mortal he disliked. You slipped easily into the driver's seat and grinned at him; the cute, slightly devilish grin that he loved so much. Damn.

Hermes grumbled a Greek swear and submitted himself to the confinement.

Thankfully, you weren't an overly cautious driver going 10 under the speed limit.

The drive would take approximately 20 minutes; 18 if you pushed the speed limit a little and 16 if you managed to pass through the traffic lights without them turning red. Ugh. Traffic lights.

When horses had to cross a road, they could just go across. You didn't have to worry about being catastrophically slammed into from the side because horses had brains. …most of the time…

Hermes clicked the seatbelt into place. His feathers ruffled as he shuddered, but he felt your hand slip into his and squeeze in sympathy, and that made it a little better. The car rumbled under his feet like an angry animal as it started, and you began the drive, switching on the radio as it connected to the phone in your pocket.

Frankly, there was only one reason Hermes tolerated car rides at all.

  “When I was a girl, I had a favorite story...”

Every time, he got to hear you sing.

    “Of the meadowlark who lives where the rivers wind…”

In Hermes' very correct and not so humble opinion, you had the most beautiful voice. And he bragged to Apollo about you all the time, how he had found you and won your heart before the sun god even heard a single note. Hermes loved listening to you sing - singing along to movies you watched, singing quietly while you worked on a project, and yes, even singing in the car.

Car singing was the second-best singing, only because you weren't afraid to be loud . Your voice filled the little space with warmth, wrapped around Hermes like a safety blanket. If you had to stop at a traffic light, you liked to wiggle in your seat like a little dance. It felt like a secret, shared only between the two of you; the little moments he tucked away in his memory like shining jewels.

And you sang everything - regardless of the original musician’s gender. Musical Theater tended to be your favorite, but your phone shuffled through rock songs and pop songs and a few electronic melodies; indy and songs about video games and even (very rarely) a country song you said you kept because it was silly. Hamilton, and SpongeBob; Wicked, and Phantom of the Opera. Lately, you’d been fixating a bit on some songs from Next to Normal that made you tear up as you sang, and Hermes would reach over and pat your shoulder or take your hand, knowing that the music meant more to you than he could really understand. Songs full of stories that you knew by heart and told to yourself (and him) over and over again.

It felt extra special, sometimes; knowing that you were comfortable enough to sing with him around. Apollo had asked, several times now, but you had stammered and said you hadn't done any warm-ups and didn't know what he would like; maybe some other time. You’d confided in Hermes after the third time; for anyone else, it felt like a high stakes audition, especially for the ‘literal god of music’ as you had said. But Hermes made you feel comfortable, like you were singing with him, even though most of the time he wasn't actually singing; he joined in subtler ways. His head bobbed and swayed along to your music, and occasionally his wings ruffled and flapped for a particularly high or long or powerful note, and he savored every single second of it.

And then all too soon the show was cut short, as you slowed to a stop in the little store's parking lot, and Hermes became aware once again of the sensation of being trapped.

He all but ripped the seat belt apart - he actually had ripped the seat belt the first time, which you had been very upset about. He hadn't meant to, and thankfully you understood after an explanation (and when he offered to pay to fix the car - a full “work up” as you said. He’d kinda shrugged it off; money was a mortal thing.)

This time, he was out of the car before the belt had the chance to fully retract back into its hiding place, hopping a little from foot to foot to shake the phantom feelings of chains. You gave him a look of apology, and offered a hug, which he graciously accepted.

Finally, after a minute to fix his sunglasses and steal your hand for holding, the pair of you headed inside the craft store.

And if he slipped a few things that you seemed to like into his bag when you put them back down upon seeing the prices, well. That was his own little secret. He just couldn't resist the way your eyes glittered when he gave you presents.

You didn't need to know where they came from… 

(If you enjoyed, please reblog!!)

[sillygoose067]

Sports Car

"I think you know what this is. I think you wanna uhh"- Sports Car by Tate Mcrae

Synopsis: You and Richard Grayson have circled around each other for years. What happens when the tension is too thick one night?

Warnings: MDNI, pining, softdom Richard Grayson, making out, smut but not explicitly written.

Gotham was suffocating in its usual way, cloaked in darkness but pulsing with a quiet undercurrent of energy. In the apartment, though, time moved at its own pace—slower, drawn out, deliberate. The world beyond the thick windows might have been bustling, but in here, there was only the sound of steady breathing, the subtle rustle of clothing, and the intoxicating weight of his gaze.

Richard Grayson had always been a master of silence. He was confident—no, assured—so much so that his very presence seemed to fill every inch of space. His demeanor was calm, but there was something more underneath: a palpable intensity that never fully dissipated. Tonight, it felt more like a simmering volcano ready to erupt. He stood against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you as you paced the room. The tension between you was so thick it was almost a living thing, wrapping itself around your ribs, constricting your chest.

For a moment, you caught your reflection in the window: your tousled hair, the flush on your cheeks, the way your breath had quickened since you walked in. You knew you were being affected. But Dick—He was always so unreadable. Always so in control.

And that only made the pull between you stronger.

You could feel his eyes on you, steady, unwavering, like a hunter waiting for its prey. It was infuriating, almost, how easy it was for him to get under your skin. It wasn’t just physical. It was emotional, mental—he was a challenge. Always a challenge. And you were in the mood for one tonight.

You turned, meeting his gaze, offering him a little smile that felt more like a dare than anything else. “You know, you’ve been looking at me like that all night,” you said, your voice teasing but the underlying heat undeniable. “If you keep staring at me like that, you’ll make me think you actually want something.”

Dick’s lips quirked into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He pushed off from the doorframe, crossing the space between you two effortlessly, as if he was always in motion, always just a step ahead. He stopped just in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. “Oh, I want something,” he murmured, his voice rough with an undercurrent of something darker. “I just haven’t decided if I’m letting you have it yet.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the challenge in his words. He was good—so good—at playing with you, at keeping you on edge. But you weren’t going to back down. Not tonight.

You leaned in, just close enough to feel the heat of his breath against your skin. “And if I don’t let you decide?” you whispered, fingers lightly brushing the fabric of his shirt. “What happens then?”

His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, his voice low and teasing. “Then we’ll find out.”

The words were like a match to kindling. Suddenly, everything between you two exploded into an inferno. The space between you was gone in a heartbeat. Dick’s lips captured yours in a kiss that was raw, primal—a storm that had been building between you for weeks. There was no tenderness here. No soft, slow approach. He kissed you with an intensity that spoke of everything he wanted but had never asked for, everything he had been holding back. His hands cupped your face with a possessiveness that sent a thrill through you, like he was marking his territory without saying a word.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, no longer holding back the flood of desire that had been building inside of you. His hands moved down your body, pulling you closer, until there was no air left between you. You could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of your clothes. The roughness of his touch sent sparks through you, igniting something deep inside that made you crave more.

It wasn’t just physical, though. You could feel it in the way he held you—like he wanted to consume you, like you were both part of the same fire. You pulled him closer, hands desperately trying to remove the barrier between you—the coats, the shoes, anything to make contact, to feel him against you. There was nothing that could have stopped this—no hesitation, no second thoughts. You were both lost in this moment.

When you pulled away just enough to look at him, your chest heaving, it was only to catch your breath. But you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him—his tousled hair, the way his eyes were dark, lit with an unspoken fire. His hands rested on your hips, gripping you tightly, as if anchoring you to him. The air between you was thick, heavy with need, and yet there was something else there too—a challenge. It wasn’t enough for him to just have you. He wanted to see how far you’d let him take you.

Richard’s voice broke through the haze of desire. “You know,” he said, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes, “I like when you fight back. Makes everything more interesting.”

You smirked, the rush of adrenaline only feeding your need for him. “Who said I’m fighting?”

Dick let out a low chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “I’m not one for guessing games, you know. You either give in… or you don’t.”

The weight of his words made your pulse race even faster. His hands moved, shifting down to your waist, his fingers grazing the edge of your shirt before lifting it up, inch by inch. Every movement was calculated, deliberate. You didn’t want to break eye contact. You didn’t want to lose this power struggle.

But Richard, always a step ahead, made the decision for you. With one swift motion, he pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly aside. Your breath caught as the cool air hit your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him. His gaze was sharp, studying every inch of you as if he were savoring the moment before he made his next move.

“You’re so damn perfect,” he murmured, his voice rougher than before, filled with something darker, something hungry. His fingers traced the curve of your collarbone, down the center of your chest, and you swore your heart stopped beating for a second.

You were lost in him, completely taken in by his touch, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his body pressed against yours. The fire was burning now, out of control, and there was no going back.

“You’re not going to make me beg,” you breathed, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath your fingertips. His breath hitched, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes held yours, searching for the answer to some unspoken question.

“I don’t need you to beg,” he replied quietly, but there was a certain edge to his voice—like he was holding back just enough, giving you just enough space to make your next move. “But I’m damn sure going to make you want it.”

You were barely able to process the words before Richard kissed you again, this time harder, deeper, as if trying to erase any distance that remained between you two. You couldn’t help but respond with the same fervor, pulling him closer, your hands sliding down his toned back, feeling the warmth of his skin. Every touch was electric, sparking more fire, more heat. There was no room for anything but the need to feel each other, to lose yourself completely in the moment.

His lips trailed down your neck, the sensation of his mouth against your skin sending jolts of pleasure racing through you. “I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmured, voice rough with hunger. “You have no idea how long.”

The admission sent a thrill down your spine, but it only made you more determined to keep pushing, to keep fighting this pull between you. You kissed him harder, if only to remind him that you were in this too, that you wanted this as much as he did. That you were just as much a part of the fire that had started between you both.

His hands moved once more, now pulling you closer, lifting you slightly to allow him to press deeper against you. It was a slow burn, but it was building to something that neither of you could hold back. There was no stopping now. No hesitation. Just the steady rhythm of your heartbeats, syncing together in the heat of the moment.

Dick, ever the master of control, let his hands slide lower, tracing the curve of your body, testing the limits of your patience. “You’re not getting away that easy,” he growled, his lips grazing your ear.

“No one’s trying to get away,” you whispered back, breathless, surrendering completely to the pull between you. You had never been more sure of anything in your life than you were in this moment, in this fire that neither of you could stop from burning brighter.

The room seemed to pulse with the thrum of your heartbeats, the silence between kisses louder than anything either of you could say. Every touch, every word, felt loaded with more meaning than the last. Dick’s hands were everywhere, exploring the curve of your back, the outline of your shoulders, the place where your neck met your collarbone. It was slow, agonizingly slow, the way he traced the path of his fingers as if savoring every inch of your skin.

But it wasn’t just physical—it was something deeper. Something that couldn’t be put into words.

There was a history between you two that stretched far beyond the walls of this apartment. There was the teasing, the tension that had been building for months, the stolen glances and the fleeting touches that left you both wondering what it would be like if you didn’t hold back. Tonight, it felt like everything had led to this. All the subtle moments, all the charged silences—it was all culminating in this single, undeniable need.

You pulled back slightly, breath coming in shallow gasps, looking at him, really looking at him. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide with desire, but there was still something behind them. Something deeper. A vulnerability, a rawness that made your chest tighten. You knew this wasn’t just about the physical. This was Richard Grayson, the boy who had spent his life hiding behind layers of jokes and smirks, afraid to let anyone see the cracks. But tonight, with you, all the walls were coming down.

“I think I might be losing control,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, raw. He had always been in control—of his body, his thoughts, his emotions. But right now, in this moment, that control was slipping. And that truth, coming from him, made your pulse spike.

“You’re not the only one,” you replied, your voice a breathless whisper, a challenge in the words. “But maybe it’s time to stop pretending we don’t want this.”

Dick leaned in, his forehead pressing gently against yours, the distance between your bodies nearly unbearable. His hands were still roaming, but now they were gentle, almost reverent, as if unsure whether you would pull away. His lips brushed against your skin, soft at first, then with more force, as if claiming you, taking what he had been craving for so long. The air was thick with desire, suffocating, but neither of you cared.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your jawline, your chest—and each kiss sent a jolt of warmth coursing through your veins. The way he moved against you was perfect—controlled yet demanding, like a dance you had both been practicing without realizing it. The way his hands found the curve of your hips, pulling you closer, reminding you that this wasn’t just a moment—it was the beginning of something far deeper.

You gasped when his lips found their way to the sensitive skin just below your ear, his breath warm against your flesh. His voice was low, barely above a whisper. “Do you want me to stop?”

You wanted to laugh—wanted to tease him, tell him that if he stopped now, it would only make everything worse. But the words didn’t come. Instead, you pulled him closer, your hands gripping the back of his neck, pushing him further into the kiss. “No,” you breathed, your voice trembling. “Keep going.”

And he did.

Dick’s hands were on your waist again, pulling you against him, lifting you effortlessly until you were pressed up against him fully, the hard line of his body grinding against yours. The feeling sent a wave of heat through your body, and you could feel the desire in every inch of him. The urgency, the need—he was just as consumed by this as you were.

The kiss deepened, and the world outside seemed to vanish entirely. There was only Dick—his lips, his hands, his body—everything else faded away. It was as though the universe had narrowed down to this single point in time, this moment where nothing mattered except the feeling of him against you, inside you.

And still, there was a push and pull, a tension between you both, like neither of you wanted to give in completely. Like neither of you wanted to be the first to lose yourself.

But he wasn’t backing down, and neither were you.

The coolness of the room seemed to disappear as the temperature between you soared. Dick’s hands roamed lower, and you couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped your lips as his fingers brushed against the waistband of your panties.

“You sure about this?” he asked again, the question more of a dare than a hesitation. He wasn’t asking for permission. He was testing boundaries, pushing to see just how far you’d let him take it. And that was part of the allure, the game you were playing with him.

You gave him no answer, just a kiss that was filled with the promise of everything you both wanted. Your body moved instinctively against his, hands working to undo the belt at his waist, eyes never leaving his. It was a game now—no words, just touch. Just the urgency of wanting more.

Dick let out a breath, a shaky exhale as you pushed him backwards gently, feeling the coolness of the room meet the heat of his skin. His body was just as solid, just as sculpted as you had imagined. There was nothing between you now. No distance, no walls. Just skin against skin, breath against breath.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered against your neck, his voice thick, almost pleading. There was nothing composed left in him, nothing calculated.

“Good,” you whispered back. “I like it when you’re lost.”

The words hung between you like a challenge. And this time, he didn’t hesitate. He didn’t pull back. Dick’s hands slid under the hem of your panties, pulling them down, the soft fabric brushing your skin before falling to the floor. The urgency in his movements mirrored your own, both of you so desperate to close the gap, to feel the friction, to feel something real.

His lips found yours again in a kiss that felt too good to be true, and yet here you were, tangled together, both of you burning with an intensity that could not be ignored. Every touch seemed to make the world outside fade further, until there was nothing left except this.

Dick’s hands explored your body, sending shivers down your spine, and you could feel the same heat rising in him. His breath was ragged now, his chest moving against yours with each shaky inhale.

“I want you,” he murmured, his lips tracing the outline of your jaw. “Now.”

And something inside you snapped. The control you had tried to maintain, the teasing, the back-and-forth—it was all gone. You were both past that point now, past the games. This was no longer a test, no longer a challenge. This was just raw, undeniable need.

You pulled him closer, your body arching into his as he leaned down to kiss you once more, this time with all the force of everything that had been building between you two. Your fingers worked quickly, pulling at the last of the clothing between you, and within seconds, there was nothing left but the heat of his skin against yours.

Dick groaned, a sound so low and rough that it vibrated through you, igniting something deep inside. He was all muscle and heat, his hands guiding you, pulling you closer as if trying to bury himself inside you completely. You didn’t want to fight anymore. You didn’t want to hold back. You just wanted to feel him. To lose yourself completely.

And just like that, there was no more space between you.

The rest of the world faded away. The chaos of Gotham, the noise, the pressure—it all disappeared into the background. There was only Richard, only the way his body felt against yours, the way his touch made your heart race, the way he moved inside you.

And it was everything you had imagined, everything you had wanted, and yet it still felt too much to handle. Every kiss, every touch, every movement was an endless spiral of pleasure, leaving you both gasping for more, always wanting more.

When you finally reached the peak, your bodies entwined, lost in each other, it was like the world had finally fallen into place. It wasn’t just about the physical release. It was about everything else—the desire, the tension, the emotions that neither of you had dared to acknowledge until now.

As your bodies slowly began to relax, Dick collapsed next to you, his hand gently brushing through your hair, his fingers caressing the skin of your shoulder.

“That…,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, “was insane.”

You smiled, your body still humming with energy, still alive from the fire he had sparked within you. “Yeah,” you breathed

His lips curved into a smile that was half amusement, half challenge. “I didn’t think you were the type to play fair.”

“Who said anything about playing fair?” you whispered, your hand brushing his chest.

And as you both lay there, entangled in the aftermath, the fire between you hadn’t burned out yet. The air between you two was still charged, as if every breath you took was laced with electricity. Richard’s chest rose and fell under your touch, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. His touch, though gentle now, still felt like an anchor, holding you to the present. To him. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and satisfaction, but there was something in his gaze that didn’t quite fade. A hunger, still simmering beneath the surface, ready to ignite again at a moment’s notice.

You shifted, pressing closer into his side, your head resting against his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, drawing you nearer. The space between you, that once-feared distance, was gone—replaced by something far more intoxicating.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook yet,” you whispered, a teasing lilt in your voice as you ran your fingers along his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch. “I’m not done with you.”

Dick chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in his chest, sending a fresh wave of warmth through your body. His fingers trailed lazily up and down your spine, like he was marking every inch of you. “I’m starting to think I’ve unleashed a monster,” he said, a mix of amusement and something else in his tone—something darker, more playful.

“A monster?” You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “I was just getting started.”

He turned his head to look at you, his expression soft but with a wicked gleam in his eye. “I know,” he said, his voice a velvet whisper. “But don’t think you can win every round. You’ve got a lot to prove if you want me to keep up with you.”

That spark of competition flared between you two once more, this unspoken challenge hanging in the air, thick with anticipation. Neither of you was ever one to back down, especially when the stakes were so high. The adrenaline from your previous encounter hadn’t fully dissipated, and now, in the stillness of the room, it simmered beneath the surface, waiting for the next spark.

“I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” you responded, your fingers trailing down his torso, feeling the tense muscles beneath his skin.

Dick’s hand gripped your wrist gently, but there was a hint of firmness to it, grounding you, forcing your attention to shift back to him. “You know I’m always up for a challenge,” he murmured, his lips barely brushing against yours, as if he was offering you an invitation, one he knew you wouldn’t refuse.

It was like you’d been waiting for this moment, for him to pull you back in, for the next round to begin. You could feel the shift in the energy between you, like a switch had been flipped. Everything about this—about him—was unpredictable, and that was part of what made him so intoxicating. Richard Grayson wasn’t someone who let you get too comfortable. He kept you on your toes, always.

Before you could respond, he was kissing you again, his lips pressing with a new intensity, his hands pushing you back against the pillows. The air around you both was thick with urgency, and this time, you didn’t bother with the teasing. You met him with the same fire, the same raw desire. There was no more waiting. No more holding back. You needed him, needed to feel the heat of him again, and he was right there, just as eager.

His hands roamed again, possessive but gentle, as if trying to memorize the curve of your body, each touch making you ache for more. His lips found your neck, and you couldn’t suppress the soft moan that escaped your lips, the sound only fueling the fire that was building between you two.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin as his lips grazed your collarbone. It wasn’t a demand, but a claim, a promise—one that wrapped itself around you, binding you to him in a way that felt like home and like a spark about to catch fire all at once.

You closed your eyes, letting the words wash over you, feeling the possessive edge in his tone go straight to your core. “I’m yours?” you asked, voice breathless, a little amused, a lot breathless.

His eyes met yours, and there was no joking in his gaze now—only something fierce, something raw, something that made your heart stutter. “You know it. And you’re not getting away anytime soon.”

You didn’t need to respond. You couldn’t. Words weren’t enough to explain the way your body responded to him, the way every inch of you burned with desire when he was close. Every breath, every touch, every second of this was more than you had imagined—more than you had hoped for.

The world outside the room didn’t exist anymore. There were no responsibilities. No distractions. There was only Richard Grayson and you, a connection that felt like it was unspoken but understood in every movement. You moved with him, against him, in perfect synchronization. The tension between you two didn’t let up. If anything, it intensified as he pressed you further into the bed, his body a weight above you, yet not oppressive, just right. The intensity of the moment made your pulse quicken. This was it. This was what you had both been craving, whether you’d admitted it to yourselves or not.

His lips were back on yours, soft, yet demanding, like he couldn’t get enough of you. His hands gripped your hips as he shifted his weight, sliding his body against yours with a fluid, practiced ease that made everything inside you tighten. His kiss deepened, more urgent this time, and you could feel his heartbeat matching yours, the rhythm of it like a drum, calling you to follow.

“Don’t stop,” you breathed against his lips, unable to stop yourself from pulling him closer.

And he didn’t. He kept going, every movement more desperate than the last, a steady push and pull between you two that was almost hypnotic. The heat between you two was unbearable now, and there was no way either of you could escape it. No way you’d ever want to.

Every inch of your body ached for him, every touch igniting a fire that could only be doused by him. His hands were everywhere, pressing you closer, lifting you just enough to feel the full length of him against you, driving you to madness with every movement.

You arched into him, your body a tangled mess of want and need, and the moment you felt him inside you again, it was like all the pieces finally clicked into place. He groaned against your lips, and the sound only made you more desperate, more hungry for him. The rhythm between you was perfect, like an unspoken dance that neither of you wanted to end.

It was no longer about teasing, no longer about waiting—it was just pure, unfiltered connection, every sensation heightened, every breath taken with a new sense of urgency. The tension that had been simmering for so long finally erupted in a wave of release, and the world outside ceased to matter once more.

As you both collapsed together, breathless and tangled in the sheets, Dick held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you like a shield, as if protecting you from the rest of the world. His lips brushed against your forehead, soft and tender now, the heat of your connection still lingering between you.

“I wasn’t lying,” he whispered, his voice low and soft. “You’re mine now. And I’m not letting go.”

You smirked, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw as you pressed a soft kiss to his chest. “I never planned on letting go.”

[flowersforthosewhoneeds]

"Forgive me, my mortal."

part 5 of " I wish i was her "

I recommend listening because this chapter is full of angst,,

.............

Last Time...

The mission had gone horribly wrong. The pain hit like a wave, and you fought to stay alive as blood poured from your wound. In those final moments, you had tried to reach out just one last time. Your voice cracked as you sang the words that echoed in your soul, knowing it might be the last time you’d ever speak.

"I’m ridin' in a getaway car, I was cryin' in a getaway car, I was dyin' in a getaway car..."

With your last breath, you managed to send out a signal, alerting the Avengers. You hadn’t called for help because you couldn’t bear the thought of Loki seeing you like this broken, bleeding, so very mortal. You managed to say, “Mission accomplished, sir. Goodbye.” The words slipped out like a final surrender, knowing the end was near.

Then... nothing.

You passed out, and the world around you went black. The last thing you heard was Loki's voice calling your name, distant but full of urgency. But even then, you weren’t sure if you could make it out. You weren’t sure if you would survive.

Now...

Loki stood frozen, his eyes fixated on the screen. The last footage of you the blood, the struggle, the brokenness played on repeat. Tony’s hands trembled as he pulled up the footage again, but Loki couldn’t tear his gaze away. He couldn’t process it. He couldn’t believe it.

“Where is she?” Thor’s voice cut through the tension, his usual calm demeanor replaced with concern. Loki’s fist tightened at his side, his jaw clenched.

“She’s not responding,” Tony said, his voice tight with panic. “Her signal’s lost. Friday’s trying to track her coordinates, but..”

“I don’t care about the signal!” Loki snapped, his voice low but sharp. “I need to find her now.”

The Avengers scrambled, preparing to leave, but Loki was already moving, a whirlwind of motion as he summoned his magic. A green mist surrounded him as he turned to the others, his expression hardening.

“We’re going to find her. Now.”

Without waiting for anyone, Loki vanished, leaving the Tower in a blur of light.

The Scene at the Mission Site

Loki arrived at the location where the last signal had been traced. The place was a desolate wreck, debris scattered across the ground, signs of a fierce battle everywhere. The dust still hung in the air, and the scent of destruction was thick. But something was wrong.

“Where is she?” Thor asked, his eyes scanning the surroundings, trying to locate any trace of you. But the silence was deafening.

Loki’s heart pounded in his chest as he moved swiftly, his eyes glowing with a barely-contained fury. His gaze darted from one corner to another, his mind racing. You had been here. You had to be.

But when he reached the spot where you had fallen there was nothing.

“No…” Loki’s voice trembled, a whisper of disbelief. His hand reached out, trembling as he touched the ground where you had bled. The earth was still warm from the magic, the signs of the battle still fresh, but you were nowhere to be found.

Thor, Tony, and the others arrived just as Loki dropped to his knees, his eyes wild with a mix of confusion and anger.

"Where the hell is she?" Tony demanded, his voice sharp.

Loki stood up, his face a mask of fury and confusion. His magic flared, but the surroundings didn’t change. No sign of your body. No trace of you.

“She’s been taken,” Loki muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His voice was cold, controlled, but there was an underlying rage that no one could ignore. “Whoever did this… will pay.”

Tony’s eyes flickered to the ground, his expression darkening. He stepped forward, his voice softening slightly. “We’ll find her, Loki.”

“I don’t need your help,” Loki spat, his voice venomous as he turned to face Tony. “She was mine to protect.” His fists clenched again, his power crackling in the air around him. “Whoever took her is a fool to think they could steal her from me.”

Thor placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder, trying to calm him. “We will find her, brother.”

But Loki didn’t respond. He only turned away, his eyes glowing fiercely as he sought out the magic that had taken you. He was already in motion, leaving the Avengers behind to follow his trail.

A Few Hours Later Back at the Tower

The Avengers were back at the Tower, regrouping and trying to formulate a plan. The screens were filled with footage of the scene, but still, no answers.

Tony paced, his hand running through his hair. “Friday, any updates?”

“I’m sorry, Sir. There’s still no signal,” Friday responded. “But the last known location shows a powerful surge of magic possibly dark magic.”

Loki was in another room, alone, consumed by the search. His thoughts raced as he tried to connect the dots. Who could’ve taken you? Why?

He didn’t care about the why anymore he just wanted you back. His mind kept replaying that last footage of you, your final words, your broken form. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t get the image out of his head.

"I left you in a motel bar, Put the money in a bag and I stole the keys, That was the last time you ever saw me..."

His chest tightened, his breath growing ragged. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

Meanwhile, You

You were no longer at the site of the explosion. The magic that had taken you had whisked you away to a place that was dark and unfamiliar. You could barely move, your body still recovering from the injury and the loss of blood. But you were alive barely.

The darkness around you felt suffocating, and you could feel the pull of magic surrounding you. Whoever had taken you wasn’t done with you yet.

And somewhere, in the distance, you could almost hear Loki’s voice a whisper of desperation, laced with the kind of fury only he could possess.

But you were fading again, the pain unbearable, the fear consuming you. All you could do was hold on, hoping that Loki or anyone would come for you before it was too late.

<3 @bailandotuki @tinytroublemaker @angelkat1013 @paryl @wannabe-oblivion @lokisgoodgirl @fantasyfan4life @saisbaldhead @xicr <3

[selfshrimping]

This would fix me actually