#Digital is hard when you have only your phone but I think I manage pretty good

[annachronisme]

reading Three caballeros fanfic boost my motivation so when I was taking breaks between writing my next fic I tried my hand in drawing the human version of the three caballeros and a redraw of the kids also (Sorry for the mediocre picture my phone is bullshit)

the colored version of Donald Duck under the cut!

[mommypieck]

𑄽୧ mutual masturbation with yuuji𔓘 ᰍ

kinktober day 13: touch me please!!!

✿ aged up!yuuji itadori x jealous!reader

✿ warnings: masturbation, fingering, jerking off

You and Yuuji have been best friends ever since you were little. He was always the bubbly golden retriever, and you were his shy black cat. he always stood by you when you were little, and he always stands by you now.

"And then she asked for my number," he exclaims, showing his hands all around. His smile is bright, and you're happy for him. He's so delighted that a girl hit on him for the first time. But there's something inside of you, that tells you it shouldn't be that way.

"What do you think of her?" Yuuji asks, almost breaking your nose with his phone. The girl in the picture is pretty, but you feel like Yuuji could get someone even prettier. For example, you think you are way cuter than that girl.

"Do you think I could lose my virginity to her?" The questions throw you off guard. Of course, you know that Yuuji is a virgin, but you didn't think he would lose it to someone he just met.

"Maybe we can practice," you mutter shyly, you don't want him to go and fuck some other girl. He kissed you when you were little, and even though you're both adults now, you can still feel that kiss on your lips

"Like to have sex?" he asks you, his eyes wide. You snort at him, "Of course not sex, but you probably don't know where the clit is."

He almost looks offended by your statement. Of course, he knows where the clit is, he thinks to himself. Gojo told him it was another name for the pee hole.

"You can just teach me a bit," you tell him, looking at him skeptically. His face suddenly turns serious, and you can see the wheels turning in his head.

"Okay." he breathes into your ear.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his hand traveling up your skirt. He almost whines when his fingers meet the warmth of your pussy. Yuuji rubs you over your panties, he's inexperienced, but he thinks he has an idea of what he's doing. You let out a surprised moan when he finds your clit.

"Did I find it?" he shoots you a teeth-full smile. You nod, he, in fact, found it so quickly. he hooks his fingers on the hem of your panties, pulling them down your legs. It's awkward with you sitting next to him, but he managed to do it.

"Oh my god." he moans, staring wide-eyed at your pussy. You want to slap him at that moment.

"What's the matter?" you ask him as you bite your lip.

"It's my first time seeing real pussy." he confesses, making you roll your eyes. You open your legs a bit more for him to get a better look, earning a whine from him.

"Do you want to touch me too?" he asks you, grabbing the tent in his pants and shoving it in your direction. You nod shyly, unable to look at him.

Your hand reaches out to cup him over his own hand, moving your hand with his own. he pulls down his pants, giving him a perfect view of the bulge in his boxers. You suppose he's big even though you have never seen a dick before.

Your hand slides into his boxers, fingers just gazing against his hard-on. You feel the veins on his dick under your fingers flexing. Your hand finds his tip, and you cringe at the slimy precum on the top.

He pulls his boxers down, finally revealing the hard-on you were playing with. You shut your lips shut, he's so pretty. He's pretty pink with his tip being a bit darker than the rest.

Your body shuffles closer to his, and you lay your head on his shoulder. Your hand cups his dick again, and you wrap your fist around him. Yuuji moans, and you can't help but think about how perfectly he fits in your hand.

While you're occupied with studying his cock, his own hand finds your pussy again. He tries to look for your clit again, and after a few swipes, he finds it again.

You lay side by side, your hand on his cock while he is between your legs. Both of you don't say anything. The only sounds are heavy breathing and moans and whines.

His fingers tease your opening, collecting all your juices on his digits. You jump a little at his gesture, closing your legs around his hand.

"Come on, let me touch you inside," he whines, pulling your legs apart so he can touch you again. You shake his head, there is no way you are gonna let him finger you.

"I'm gonna give you a kiss if you let me put fingers inside." Yuuji offers you, and your ears perk up. Maybe if he kisses you, he's gonna forget all about that other girl. You think for a moment before pecking his lips in a quick kiss, catching him off guard. He smiles at you, and he plants a kiss into your hair.

He carefully pushes one of his fingers inside, making you wince in pain. even just one digit is too big for you. Your hand speeds on his cock, trying to find some distraction from his hand. You have to agree that his finger doesn't feel as bad inside of you. It's a bit strange, but the spot he massages makes you see stars.

His whole palm is pressed against your pussy, adding pressure on your clit while he discovers your insides.

You can feel his twitching in your hand, indicating he's super close. Your focus is set on his cock, you wanna see how it looks when he cums. You grip him a little tighter, jerking him faster. It takes a few tugs before he's cumming all over your hand.

His hand between your legs doesn't stop, in fact, it gets rougher, trying to bring you to your orgasm too. Your stomach feels weird, and your whole body tenses as you cum. Your body jerks on its own as you ride out your orgasm.

You don't realize you closed your eyes until you see him smiling up at you. He looks like an angel, his eyes screaming a worried look.

"Did you like it?" he asks you, making you hide your face in the crook of his neck. He can feel your hot cheeks telling him that you did.

"I am not gonna answer that girl. I liked being like this with you."

taglist: @mcharris747 @huuuuut30 @krispsprite @bejewelledd @cawwn @veryninjanacho @jamayah @dngerwayz @nwptune @universlypiratecolor @ffakegucci @merachannie @d1lf-luvr @th3girln3xtdoor @nobody289x @iheartpieck @gia999 @kawasgirl @st4rrlighttt @candyeyeroll @7haze @banchangsbbbg @nigthmar3moon @softlilpeachxx @d1gitalbath @jaenniii

@satorustar @balenciagarette

[astayinwonderland]

SKZ Han hard thoughts... | +18 MDNI

the brain rot with Han is strong atm so let’s go with some smutty thoughts on perv!han 

perv!han who can’t keep his eyes off you while you savour that lollipop. the way your pretty mouth sucks the tip as you innocently put it all in your mouth makes him painfully hard. that should be him in your mouth, crying, begging for you to continue-- "yes, please just like that--ugh!"

perv!han who gifts you beautiful mini skirts and short dresses-- not only because he absolutely loves your legs, but because that grants him easy access to your cute pussy. he gets hard when you get all excited and try them on for him-- most of the time it ends with him railing you against the nearest surface.

perv!han who in the middle of dinner with friends, let his wandering hands under the table and under your mini skirt. it makes room under your thong to tease your now wetting cunt-- just a little bit. he brings those same digits to his mouth as he looks at you, raising his eyebrows "so good..."

perv!han who eats you out like a starved man. he is desperate, you feel so warm, your taste is heaven-sent. all he wants is to drown in you, to have your juices all over his face. he grunts and moans as he slurps every single drop of your arousal. your legs tremble around his head, cumming for the second time in his mouth. when he finally releases you, he's drenched in your arousal. he licks his lips again and again, trying to imprint your taste and smell on his brain.

perv!han who has to excuse himself when he's recording-- he calls you from the bathroom stall. "please baby, I just need your help... i can't think straight i need you so so fucking bad". so you after teasing him for a bit you ask him to touch himself, to picture how his cock would be ruining you in that very moment. you hear his heavy breath over the phone as you request a video call. somehow manages to accept only to see you touching yourself. "you're so hot, baby i-- i-- ugh want you so bad" he closes his eyes, his face expressing exquisite pleasure as he cums with a loud moan you're pretty sure chan heard all the way to the studio.

perv!han who loves it when the boys are over and he convinces you of having a quicky. he rams his cock inside you so deliciously as his hand covers your mouth, drool slips from the corner of your mouth as he whispers the nastiest things-- "your pussy is so fucking wet, bet they can listen how wet you are... shit, baby-- best. fucking. pussy. my dirty, dirty girl. gonna cum? cum for me, baby. bet they can hear your muffled cries as well... fuck-- I'm gonna cum..."

------------------------------------

a/n: gosh I am lost after writing this...

this is pure ✨fiction✨ ˜ masterlist

[thedollhousediaries]

The Dollhouse Diaries

Real Life In Plastic Tip #6:

ෆTime Management for Neurodivergent Girly Girls and Boujie Hyperfemmesෆ

This is the pretty girl era of having time management under control. The key is to learn how to live in the moment while also being discipline enough to move on to the next task as needed. I know that sentence was as daunting to read as it was for me to write ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა I guarantee I gotcha *Chaeyoung voice*

First Things First: Go 1 Week At a Time!! (every 3 days if an entire 7 is too much or your schedule is unpredictable, like mine)

Build a simple list of all the things you have to do and that you would like to do. Its much easier to get it all out on the table so you can donate more of your brain power to sorting things, rather than holding things.

Put all of the things listed on a calendar: Most important first things first! This means things like health appointments,work schedule, birthdays, holidays that you celebrate, classes, or anything that involves not only your time but other’s as well. Then after that put the elective things second; Nail appointments, shopping trips, dates with friends, etc. Lastly, put the things you would like to incorporate into your daily routine; We talking skincare, any hobbies you may have like drawing/painting/sculpting/reading/blogging, any form of exercise, etc.

Once the week or however much time you have scheduled out is done on your overall calendar, then its time for marrying it to your life.

Marrying your schedule: Planner apps, Physical Planner, Dry Erase Boards and Bullet Journals

Choosing your medium at keeping up with your schedule is very important. You may have to try them all before you get comfortable with something. I have tried them all and I’ve found that the main one that truly stuck with me was the app/website Notion. I like it because its fully customizable and you can use it at your own pace. Every week or every day may not be super eventful and so it drops the guilt and shameful feeling of not filling up pages every single day.

Here is what all I use and the way I use them:

Notion <3 I use it as my overall journal. I use the apps on my ipad/phone to check if I’m not home and I can use the website on my PC when I’m home and relaxing. I like it because its very versatile. Think of it as a digital journal combined with similar mechanics of tumblr. I use it for literally everything. There are a lot of videos that can show off all of the cool things Notion can be used for but this is the video that personally helped me learn it quickly

Bullet Journals <3 I have about 3 journals and I love them because I get to customize things with cute stickers and it gives very fun scrapbooking vibes. Because I use Notion as a all over planner I can use my BUJO’s for more fun and creative things. I usually use these for all of my cute ideas and things thats in my mind and aesthetic wishlists and such. Its very therapeutic to take time out to be kawaii and glamorous and just put cute thoughts on to paper! I mainly use it for kpop inputs, my fav shows, wishlists, dates and etc.

Dry erase board <3 I use this as a overall daily top important to-do list! Sometimes I dont always open my notion if I dont have anything extremely important coming up but there may be some things I need to keep on my mind to do for that day. The way my neurodivergency is set up I need to keep the most important things always in my face or I could forget everything. So, I put things on there like get a new tire, pick up order from bath & bodyworks, put clothes in the dryer, wash dishes, and etc. Daily tasks like that usually goes on my dry erase board

Remember at the end of the day dont be too hard on yourself and your schedule! Move at your own pace and always set yourself up for success. Scheduling is ideally suppose to calm you and be a tool to improve your life; not stress you out. If at any point you begin to feel overwhelmed just stop and recenter yourself and your life. I felt overwhelmed at first myself and that was because I was trying to keep up with a hyper organized and productive version of myself that I needed to give more patience to develop. Let this come organically to you and not because you are trying to keep up with what u feel everyone else is doing, or to the future self you are going to inevitably become. Happy scheduling, Dollmate!

[chrollohearttags]

for the 5k ask?? do u think musician eren and his gf would be into roleplay??? yk to spice things up a little

yes I do and it’d be so hot. As of their sex life couldn’t already be more adventurous, implementing role play only makes it ten times better. The best part is that Eren would get super into it and make the experience one to remember. Pulling out all the stops to really play up the fantasy. For example, you pretending to be his pretty little housekeeper and he catches you masturbating atop his counter. He’d get you some skimpy little maid outfit, toys and come strolling into the kitchen with a silk robe on..acting all shocked and disgusted by what you’ve done. ��I mean, this is very unprofessional, miss. I don’t know if this can be overlooked.” And you so hopelessly beg him to let you keep your job. “I’ll do whatever you want, please don’t fire me.” Finding himself getting hard at the sight of you pathetically pleading with those cute doe eyes; on your knees where he finds the perfect use for you. “Anything I want, huh? Well, I guess we can work out something out.” Turning you into his own personal fuck toy for the rest of the evening. Instructing you to suck him off as he sloppily fucks your throat; making certain he doesn’t stop until you’re gagging and coughing up. “I think this might be your real talent, damn…if only you could clean the way you swallow this dick..” it’s when he sets you back on the marble countertops, hoists your leg on his shoulder, slides his cock into you and gives you those deep strokes that things get really fun. He specifically loses it when that hand cradles your throat and he begins pounding your little pussy to the point that smacking noises erupt throughout the room and you’re telling him how good it feels. “Thank you, sir! Thank you so much for fucking me like this.” Crying oh so sweetly and soaking him with faint splashes of your squirting. Until he withdraws and let you flood his tile floors.. But only shortly thereafter, filling you to the brim with sticky ribbons of cum. “We’ll call it even if you let me come inside you..let me fill that pretty pussy up.”

or when you find yourselves at a five star hotel, pretending to be total strangers..having an affair on their significant other. You sitting pretty at the bar, nursing some Merlot from the half empty glass when Eren walks your way and strikes up a conversation. Asking what a beautiful woman such as yourself is doing here all alone on a Saturday evening. “Here with my boyfriend. Why do you ask?” To which he offers up a smirk and replies so smugly. “My mistake. I figured you’d be looking for a husband…” not failing to notice the bare right ring finger, which adds a subtle touch. He manages to convince you for a little more of your time where he whisks you away to his suite, claiming to be there on business..saying he’s only in town until tomorrow but he’d love it if you spend the remainder of the evening by his side. “Forgive me. I know it’s not right but it’s been a while since I’ve been with a woman like you.” After a couple glasses of wine, you’re all his and your ‘boyfriend’ is an afterthought. Eventually leading to him to slide a hand up your dress, finger fucking you slowly as he forces you to keep eye contact with him. “I promise I’ll make you feel better than he ever could.” It’s as you’re coming for him that he tugs those digits out and let’s them drip onto your mouth. He can’t help but to hit you from the back when that ass was sitting so nicely underneath that evening gown with the high slit. Leaving your heels on as your legs are suspended in the air…even picking up your phone when someone calls, pretending it’s your pathetic boyfriend and tossing it aside. “She’s a little busy right now.” Not even trying to muffle your loud moans. It’s such an amazing experience.

[secretgamergirl]

When I said the “AI” projects grifters are pushing were search engines, THIS WAS NOT THE INTENDED TAKEAWAY.

I wrote a blog post a bit ago trying to explain what the things people are presently trying to call “AI” really are, and how the whole thing is a big ol’ grift you shouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole... and I don’t think anyone actually really read that, but since I’ve written it, there sure has been a sharp uptick in stories about people you’d really hope would know better treating them like Ask Jeeves and expecting to get accurate answers to random questions. So... let me try this again.

So first let’s just cover how a search engine actually works. Or at least a simplified version of my personal understanding which is probably a bit out of date so you know, grain of salt.

While we’re used to accessing the internet through handy little URLs like, say, https://www.tumblr.com, those are just sort of handy aliases managed by this whole database setup (domain name servers) which browsers are set up to check if there’s text in there, basically, and what those match them to is numerical addresses. It’s a bit like every website has a phone number. Just as an example, open another tab and just type in oh... 74.114.154.18 and watch it bring you somewhere. They expand things a bit now and then, but basically, much like when a video game has a safe with a 3 digit combination and you don’t feel like solving a puzzle, you can totally just sit there, punch in every possible number, and doing so you’ll eventually see every website there is. It’s only what like 1,000,000,000,000 possible combinations? People who are actually serious about running a search engine will just set up a script that does that, throwing some real processing power at it, locally save every thing that comes up, and also search all those files for every file they point at, links, images, databases, whatever, and save those locally to. A whole lot of computing and a whole lot of storage later, and you literally have a local mirror of the entire internet saved to a huge pile of hard drives. Really this is such a costly endeavor it’s honestly just a handful of people who really do it and everyone else just... quietly passes your searches on to them like some kinda middleman.

Anyway, once you have your local copy of the entire internet, and entirely too much processing power to hit it with, you can do things like... look at every individual page on the entire internet and count how many times every given word appears on them, and if you’re feeling real bold, phrases, getting nice little running tallies to jam into your huge database. Then when a request comes in to give you a web page about seagull poop, you just figure well, there’s this one page that says “seagull” 49 times, “poop” 37 times, and specifically says “seagull poop” 35 times. That seems pretty on-point so you search that up as result number one.

You’ll notice there’s no thinking anywhere in here, just saving files, counting words in them, and doing some data processing on those counts. There IS a bit more to everything of course, like giving extra relevance points if something is in a title or header tag, or how somewhere along the line we all agreed to add these meta tags where people can just say outright what sort of information is on a page on the honor system (extra relevance points if people actually click links too), and someone just deciding wikipedia articles are always good so if there’s a wikipedia article, that gets a ton of bonus relevance points. Having the search string in the URL of the site of course also helps, and somewhere along the line things got gummed up with people abusing the hell out meta tags and also just giving major search engines money in exchange for bonus relevance points. Then much more recently you’ve got software engineers and suckers trying and utterly failing to “improve” results by doing dumb things, like Street Fighter 6 is out, and there’s lots of people looking for info on that, so if someone types like, “Street Fighter 3rd Strike Remy move list” into a query, well, part of that string says “Street Fighter” so let’s give all the results people searching for just that are enjoying lately, and forget the other terms.

Anyway, that’s your standard search engine. People with these sorts of “AI” projects do not, in fact, generally have a local copy of the entire internet saved. Some would like to, but you need a LOT of storage, and also there’s quite a lot of laws and security measures specifically to prevent people from doing that, and even preventing the people we as a society generally agree should be mirroring the whole internet have to leave certain parts out. Now partly they get around that by just completely ignoring that those laws exist and banking on nobody actually enforcing them in any meaningful way. Largely though they want to either avoid blatantly breaking those laws/circumventing security, so they buy “training data” from whoever’s willing to sell it, and also taking measures to obfuscate that it’s all stolen.

Anyway, you know about Markov chains? The basic idea is you have a large body of text you’ve done some statistical analysis on like we have when we archive the whole internet or what chunks we can get our hands on, and we break down the percentages of how likely every word is to come after a given word we’re looking at. Doesn’t have to be words either, you can do it with whatever. But the basic idea is, let’s say your data set is a bunch of tedious nerd posts from the year Portal came out. Now if I start off giving you the word “The” there’s all sorts of things that could come next. “The end” “the next” “the only” or maybe “the cake.” This is totally how that predicted next word thing on your phone works by the way. Anyway to really do this properly you like map out the entire web of phrases you can end up with, but for now let’s just look at that pretty popular combo of “the cake” and keep looking that way, and huh, people sure do follow “cake” with “is” these days, and especially “the cake,” I can look this up in my database easy. So you just keep hitting that next suggested word on your phone, we’re probably getting “The cake is a lie!” out of it. Someone I know loves doing stupid little things with these if you want an example.

This is totally how these “AI” things do the natural speech things, plus maybe some hard rules like “when the prompt is a single word pre-prep the chain by putting “[whatever term] is” into a standard search engine routine and just wholesale life the first sentence you can find that starts with that at the top of a block of text, then Markov chain from there.”

And we want to obscure that we’re doing this so let’s also have a rule like “OK you can go with the best match for the best work so many times in a row, but after that you have to mix it up by taking the second best word. So again, still at the height of Portal fever, we start off seeing this common word sequence, but OK let’s switch it up after “the cake is” and not go with “a” what else do we have? Well, there’s no “the” at the start, but “cake is so delicious and moist” is also real common. That’s another long string of direct quotes though, so again, let’s flag it after so many top matches and use a slightly less common one. And you end up spitting out like, “The cake is so delicious and nutritious.” Hey, that sounds like natural language, AND it’s variations on commonly said things, so it’ll probably read as legit. We’re done here, ship it.

Of course cake ISN’T nutritious, it’s like, pure sugar and gluten. But we don’t have any capacity to think or understand we’re just stringing words together based on how commonly they follow each other. Because again, there is no actual intelligence, creativity, or understanding in here, just data sets and strict procedures on how to pop words from them.

One amusing thing about this is that basically by design, it’s practically guaranteed that this is going to spit out any block of text you can imagine at you, except for the ones that are completely true and coherent. It’s intentionally avoiding ever doing that because you’d spot the plagiarizing immediately.

Oh and the whole “AI generated art” scene is doing this exact same thing. Only difference is there’s an extra step where after they download literally every image ever posted on DeviantArt, they have sweatshops full of people where for like one shiny penny a day, destitiute people pour over things, hacking them up with lasso tools and painstakingly adding meta tags for every possible thing you could for every single image they have, so the program can pull up a bunch of images that all have all the search text and then go like “OK start with this as a base, this has the 20x10 pixel blue right eye tag, does anything else in the batch have that exame tag? Cool, let’s select one of those and paste it over this eye, now, how are we on 30x40 slightly reddish upturned nose tags?” etc. etc. etc. More impressive parlor trick to pull off, but it’s still prettty plainly theft.

Anyway, this is all a thing, as I think I said, because all the people left holding the bag when everyone realized crypto/NFTs/the metaverse/etc. was a gigantic pyramid scheme have absurd amounts of processing power in big warehouses and it’s all going faulty and looking bad from being under too much heat and running too long so it’s hard to sell on eBay, so, what other scam can we do with it? Aha, fake AI.

And all the people who continue to fall for that hook line and sinker should not have the jobs they do because that level of being a gigantic mark proves them unfit to do really anything that involves any sort of decision making, do what you can to have them removed.

Also maybe give me money? I’m at risk of death otherwise.

[softichill]

Yesterday was suck. But I got a card and figured out what phone service I use. Not a complete loss of a day. Thanks for letting me vent. You should be able to vent too, anything you want to rant about? I'm all ears! Not literally that sounds like a horror game. I'm still on the search for a horror game that has Cricket friendly parameters. Who's Lila? sounds like it may be. Still haven't gotten through it or even an essay on it. Damn. Finding horror games with these stipulations is hard. Faith is a good one but I'm not sure if it's got rule A or B in it. I think not, but I could be wrong. You have no idea the sheer want that someone other than me can handle JATPM. I can handle pretty much everything. Been thinking of getting Fear And Hunger just to get Spooked! Either way, Glitter And Gold by Barns Courtney. I've got it stuck in my head!

Np!! Also being all-ears is an scp concept I believe (that walking teddy bear that built other walking teddy bears made one that was entirely ears iirc)

My current animation class teacher honestly kind of sucks. I've only had a fee classes with her so we'll see if that opinion changes, but so far she has been unclear and doesn't actually answer questions very well. Just the other day we had to do an assignment where we were put into groups of 4-5 and had to plan out a short through pre-production, production, and post-production on a giant sheet of paper. However, she didn't actually specify what that entails, so we had no idea what we were supposed to put down. We asked her, and she said something along the lines of "write down your idea in the sections and color it when you're done". We still had no idea what the specifics were, so we asked again, trying to specify asking what we would write down. She said the same thing. Eventually we asked the assistant, who brought out some examples for us to follow (and we weren't the only ones who needed it– half the class walked over to look at them) and we finally knew what to do, but then the teacher got mad and said the assistant wasn't supposed to do that, and "I was planning to tell you, you just had to be patient". The material of the class is fun and I've made a friend there, so it's not a hated class or anything, but I am not looking forward to working with this teacher.

On the bright side, it'll get me used to future bosses that will act like this (my dad has informed me that managers and bosses tend to act like this a lot, especially in the art side of things)

If it helps, I'm a very big fan of psychological horror games!! Digital and analogue horror are pretty up there too (some of the only things that can truly consistently freak me out! In a good way) and I can stand some gore.

Dreaming from Coraline! Recently watched the upscaled version of the movie in theaters, it's still really good

[husbandhoshi]

frat boy jeonghan and fucking in between classes OH M YFUCK making you suck on his fingers to keep you quiet

[part two]

your phone buzzes on the desk, abandoned with your backpack and your favorite shirt, which jeonghan had so unceremoniously stripped off you the moment the door to the classroom closed.

how'd you know i love flowers? he had said, before promptly bending you over the front desk.

didn't know you were such a romantic, yoon jeonghan.

only for you, sweetheart.

now, with his dick so far up you, it's hard for you to think, nevertheless be upset, no, humiliated, jeonghan was able to easily convince you to fuck in an empty classroom, in the middle of the day, with your skirt flipped up and your tits pushed out of your bra for the world to see. plus, your goddamn phone is so loud in the quiet room, and it seems to amplify the sounds of the table rattling, your labored breathing, the slick of your cunt sucking him in.

"fuck, it-it's my roommate," you manage, eyes watering from pleasure. "was s'posed to — fuck — lend her my— " your train of thought leaves the station when he pulls out and uses the head of his cock to slap your clit a few times. your eyes wrench shut, a pitiful moan replacing the end of your sentence.

"will you shut up and let me fuck you?"

"m-my calculator," you sputter, feeling helpless to the waves of pleasure overtaking you. he bottoms out again, and your head goes positively blank. "oooh, fuck, right there."

just then, you hear the chatter of students passing by the classroom.

is this where they moved class?

soonyoung, does this look like room 354 to you?

jeonghan immediately slaps a hand over your mouth, which is currently (embarrassingly) hanging wide open in a silent moan, and he stills his hips long enough to have you whimpering against his long fingers.

your phone buzzes one last time, as if right on cue.

"you want them to hear how good i'm fucking you? want your pretty pussy on display for the whole school to see?"

you tearfully shake your head, wanting desperately for him to start moving. instead, he kicks his hips up into you even further; the fat head of his dick digs so well into your sweet spot that you don't think you've ever felt anything as good as this. not even close.

"thought so." you can't see him with your cheek flush to the mahogany like that, but the grit in his voice makes you wonder if he, too, is as affected as you are.

you know if any of your friends caught wind of this, it would all be over for you, the man-hating, honor roll student who said she wanted nothing to do with frat boys. but you just had to meet yoon jeonghan, who had poor you under his spell the night he ate you out at that cursed stoplight party. 

pity you don't have anything red, he had said, spitting on your throbbing clit. how're they gonna know who made you cum so hard? and all you could do was grind on his tongue, begging for him to do it all over again.

he punches up into your ass again, and you gasp, muffled by his hand, which normally seems so small and unassuming but is relentless against your lips, almost like he wants it to hurt. fuck, you're trying so hard to keep quiet, keep an ounce of your dignity, but he fills you up so well, it's like you can't, won't, want anything else but for him to make sure you can't walk to your next class.

before you can make another sound, you feel jeonghan's other hand connect with your upper thigh, the slap dull and muted as you keen against him. "am i fucking you too good, sweetheart? can't keep it down?"

and, being the wicked person he is, he pushes your lips open with his thumb, then promptly shoves god knows how many fingers into your hot, wet mouth. maybe it's how his cock has your eyes rolling to the back of your head or how his fingertips are coated in your slick, but you instinctively, pathetically start sucking on them. your moans thread out to tiny little whimpers as you tongue the digits, the action somehow grounding you as you feel like your mind is floating out somewhere in space.

"so fucking cute, should have my fingers in your mouth all the time," he coos, but however sweet you might want it to be, it doesn't last long, because he slides his fingers in that much deeper so you gag around them, presses on your tongue like he doesn't want the taste of his skin to leave your mouth.

what a foul man, you think. but that thought doesn't last long either, because before you know it, you're fluttering around his cock, moaning around his fingers as your body gets impossibly tense, and you feel like your soul leaves your body for a split second before you're brought back by the feeling of his hot cum on your ass, still sore from how he was squeezing it earlier.

"god, jeonghan, didn't i tell you to keep your cum to yourself?" you whine. "fuck, i have class in 3 minutes."

it is almost ironic how tenderly he wipes his cum off your skin with the kleenex he stole from a desk drawer and flips your skirt down, smoothing his palm over your aching ass to cop a feel.

"same time next week?"

once, twice, shame on him, but three times makes you the fool, and you definitely feel like it as you nod yes, yes please, yet again.

and jeonghan, intoxicatingly, plants a kiss on your exposed shoulder, then slings his bag over his shoulders. "prof hates when we're late," he says. "hope your roommate gets whatever the fuck she needs from you."

and just like that, he's gone, leaving you breathless and cum-soaked. you're not even mad, and that's the worst part, you think, as you pull your bra back down and make a mental note to call in sick for your class next week.

[malfoysstilinski]

mirror pics | draco malfoy smut

draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: based on a tiktok. draco has other ideas for some poses for your instagram feed.

warnings: unprotected sex, cum-play/breeding kink, fingering, slight mirror sex, praise, choking kink if you squint

a/n: i saw a tiktok of a girl talking about this and i knew i had to write it straight away.

“Draco, please can you take this picture for me?”

The blond glanced up from where he was scrolling on his phone, his back against the headboard of his bed. You were standing in the full length mirror, adjusting the white tennis skirt that you were wearing. His eyes trailed up and down your figure, darkening. Draco sat up, crawling off of the bed to accept your phone.

“What happened to only relying on Pansy for your Instagram photos?” Draco asked, fiddling around until he found your camera app, swiping it open.

“Pansy’s busy,” you replied, moving to stand by the huge windows inside his childhood bedroom and fiddling with your hair so that it fell perfectly. “Besides, you’re not too bad at taking pictures. Just be honest with me rather than saying ‘everything looks good.’”

“But everything does look good on you,” Draco insisted, causing you to roll your eyes and smile as he raised the phone once again.

You changed poses every few seconds as he snapped away photos of you, his grey eyes straining in concentration and his lips slightly pursed. You giggled a little at his expression, causing him to glance up from the screen and smile.

“What?” Draco huffed.

“You,” you replied, “You look so cute when you pull that face.”

“Cute?” Draco huffed, “I prefer hot.”

You raised a brow at him, a small smirk on your face. “Well, you’re both, of course.”

“Hmm, am I?” Draco lowered the phone. “Tell me more.”

Instead of replying, you moved forwards and wrapped your arms around him, tugging him down so that your lips met in the middle. Draco grinned against you, your phone falling onto the bed nearby as he grabbed you by the hips, tugging you as close as humanly possible. You hummed, feeling his tongue gently swipe across your bottom lip.

“I would love to tell you more, but I have pictures I need to take,” you whispered against him.

Draco groaned in annoyance, his hand sliding down your back and reaching to grab at your ass. You squeaked in surprise, his thigh moving between your legs and parting them. You were pinned against the post of his large bed, silver eyes looking down at you, glinting mischievously.

“I think we can easily do both,” he murmured.

Excitement swirled inside you and your underwear dampened as Draco’s hand moved underneath your skirt. He removed his thigh, your legs remaining parted for him as he hooked a slender finger through the waistband, tugging it down. Your head fell into his chest, pants escaping your body.

“Draco,” you whimpered, feeling as though your body could collapse against him.

Draco supported you with his other hand, the hand in her underwear dipping down into her folds and finding that she was soaking wet. He groaned in approval and spread her slick across her, adoring the way that you gripped his arms tightly.

Draco’s bicep bulged as he dragged his finger from your entrance to your clit. He began to rub it at an agonisingly slow pace, listening to the shallow breaths that escaped you. Your forehead was against his chest still, so he gently grabbed your neck and forced you away.

“Nuh-uh,” Draco murmured, not stopping the actions on her swelling bud. “I wanna see your pretty face, Y/N. Wanna watch the way you look when I bring you to the edge.”

“Please, Draco,” you nodded eagerly, feeling the thumb of the hand he had wrapped around your neck begin to trace your jawline.

The blond boy quickened his movements on your clit, his other thumb slipping into your mouth. He nearly moaned when you started to suck around him, your eyes bleary. He rubbed at your bud before he pressed his fingers against your entrance again. Finding you more wet than before, he pushed his middle finger inside of you, watching the way you faltered against him, his thumb retracting from your mouth. He brushed the spit across your skin until he had a hold on your neck again.

"You want another one?" Draco asked, sliding in and out of you with ease.

"Yes, yes," you nodded quickly, your words failing you for a moment or two. "Please, more. Inside me."

"Anything you ask, princess," Draco breathed against your ear as he slid another finger inside of your hole.

You already felt so tight around him, your eyes flickering shut as you squeezed his digits unintentionally. Draco worked to scissor you open better, fingers rubbing your walls and thrusting in and out slowly. Pants were falling from your lips and pretty soon he was adding a third finger and you were gasping, hands slinging behind his neck. Draco let you fall into him for a moment or two, feeling your legs shake beneath you.

His hand was back around your neck as he pushed you against his bed post.

"Eyes on me," Draco instructed.

He began to thrust the three fingers even faster, much to your relief. You squealed when he hit the spot inside you that you loved, your hand reaching to grab his wrist wrapped around your neck.

"Faster," you begged. "Please, faster. Draco.."

And then, all at once, it was ripped unfairly away from you. Draco tugged his hand away from your dripping sex, a smirk on his face as he lifted his fingers up to slip into your mouth. You sucked your juices off of him eagerly, watching him smirk.

“C’mon, let’s get that photo you need,” he whispered.

“I don’t want a bloody photo anymore--”

Draco ignored you, picking up your phone from the bed. He swiped to find the camera again and then sat down on his bed, opposite the full length mirror. Much to your surprise, Draco unbuttoned his trousers and pulled out his hard cock, swollen and leaking with precum. He glanced over at you, raising his brows.

“Are you coming or not?” He said.

In a mixture of excitement and confusion, you wandered over, only for a strong arm to be hooked around your waist as you were tugged onto his lap. You felt him adjust you before you were slowly sliding down onto his cock, gasps escaping both of you. Your head rolled back to land on his shoulder, your back pressed against your chest as Draco gave a couple of lazy thrusts up into you.

“So fucking tight for me,” he whispered against your ear.

You made a moan of agreement before Draco forced you to straighten up and reached around, shifting your skirt. You watched in the mirror as he made sure that you were covered and he lifted the phone. Your eyes widened when you realised what he was doing-- taking pictures of you sat on his cock, although nobody but the two of you would ever know. You managed to relax on him, your walls squeezing at his cock as he wrapped an arm around your waist and rested his head on your arm, his other hand taking the mirror pictures.

“Fuck, Draco,” you whispered, arousal making you wetter than you thought was possible.

He finished taking pictures and then tossed the phone behind him, grabbing you by the hips and driving you up and down on his cock. Your moans filled his bedroom, his fingertips digging into your flesh and his lips connecting with your neck to bite and nibble and suck. He felt huge inside of you, his cock hitting spots inside you that made you realise that this would be over in a matter of minutes.

Sure enough, you were cumming around him maybe three minutes later, his fingers lazily playing with your clit before he bit down onto your shoulder and came, his hot seed shooting deep inside of you. You moaned at the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut as he breathed against your arm, panting.

Soon, he lifted you from his lap and moved you around so you were bent over the bed. He watched his cum slip from your entrance, a groan leaving his lips. He grabbed your phone and took photos as he began to thrust his fingers into your pussy, shoving all of his seed back inside of you.

Then, he reached down to where your panties were around your ankles, and pulled them up to cover you again, pulling your skirt back down. He kissed your back where your oversized shirt had ridden up, his hands sliding up and down you as he pulled you to stand back up.

“You were so perfect for me,” he whispered, taking your lips into his again.

“Draco, Y/N, dinner!” Narcissa’s call made you jump.

“Great. You can sit down there like that,” Draco grinned mischievously, smacking your ass as you turned to leave the room.

Hours later, on your Instagram that night, were the pictures of you standing by Draco’s gothic-like bedroom windows, dressed in one of your favourite outfits and smiling.

On Draco’s Instagram, however, was a picture of you sitting on his lap, earning dozens of comments over how cute the two of you were-- but nobody would ever know what you were actually doing.

[drakenology]

Game Over 👾 - Kenma Kozume

gamer!kenma x gamer!reader

summary: kenma works at gamestop and this cutie came in to buy a new game. wonder if she’s single..

author’s note: kenma simps come get yall juice 🥵! we love a gamer boy. hope yall like dis. 🥴

warnings: smut (obviously), softdom!kenma, hair pulling, fluffy stuff, shitty rom-coms and kuroo being a hype man.

Slow days at GameStop were the worst. No one comes in anymore; who the hell still buys disks when you can buy all your games digitally now anyways? Still, it was easy money and something to do over the summer other than sit around and binge play League of Legends all day.

Kenma sighed as he pretended to look busy in front of the manager by fixing the poster wall for the eighth time all shift, mundanity floating through the store as three customers left after just leisurely looking around.

As Kenma’s restocking the playstation game wall he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Um, excuse me do you work here?” A feminine voice asked.

“No. I just wear this fucking uniform shirt because I like it.” Kenma thought to himself before turning his head to face what was possibly the cutest girl he’s ever seen.

Kenma’s not really used to seeing too many girls in the store when he worked so he was a little shocked. But god she was pretty. She was wearing red; one of his favorite colors with these jeans that hugged her legs and thighs so nice he almost choked on his tongue before speaking.

“Uh.. yeah. How can I help you?” He finally responded.

“Hi! Um, I just wanted to know where I can find Fallout 4 for xbox? I’ve been looking everywhere for it and I can’t find it.” She sung. Her voice was like a symphony of everything good in the world. Kenma started to wonder what she’d sound like underneath him while he-

“Yeah. I’ll show you, I had to move them for a while so I could make room for newer games.” Kenma said, leading her towards the wall with all the xbox games were. He reached up high and grabbed the game off rhe top shelf and handed it to her with a meek smile.

“Thanks! I see you’re the only one working so I’ll look around and let you know when I’m ready to checkout.” She said smiling back. Kenma nodded and continued his work slowly so he could stare at her through the shelfs and hangers around the store.

The way she picked up things as she looked at them was adorable; her nose scrunching up as she giggled at the pikachu plushies. Kenma blushed as he watched her look around the store as if it were her first time visiting. She gamed, so it’s not like she’s never been in a gamestop before. But the way she looked at things she liked with fresh eyes was something to ponder on. He had to know her; at least her name.

Anyone who knew Kenma would know he’s not the type to go oogling at some girl and ask for her number, he’s hopelessly shy. But he couldn’t risk not seeing this girl again. As he walked to the counter, he gulped up his reluctance and took a deep breath.

“Hey. Ready when you are.” He said, getting the girl’s attention. She smiled and walked over with her game and a pikachu plushie; of course. She’s so fucking cute.

“Heh. Pikachu?” He teased, hoping he didn’t offend her. She simply laughed and put it on the counter for him to ring up.

“What can I say? I’m 12.” She said, sticking out her tongue with a smirk. Fuck. Kenma gulped again, pathetically blushing right in front of her and hoping she didn’t notice the tint of his cheeks turn bright red. He grabbed her stuff and rang it up, bagging it all nice for her before handing the bag to her.

“Want a receipt?” Kenma asked. She nodded, standing at the counter as she watched him print it out. Shit. The exchange was almost over and he hasn’t even asked her name yet. He had to before it was too late.

“Hey uh.. c-can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Kenma said, looking down at the screen and not into her gorgeous eyes.

“Yeah? What’s wrong, sir?” She asked. Fuck. Sir? Really? What’s she trying to do?

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N, why?”

“I-I wanted to know if I could have your number? And like maybe take you out- o-only if you want to I’m not-“

She laughed, and wrote her name and number on the back of the receipt and handed it back to him.

“Call me. I’d love to go out with you. You seem cool.” Y/N said. She squinted her eyes a little to read Kenma’s name tag.

“Ken..ma? Right? I’ll see you around, Kenma.”

And so began his helpless fall for her.

“Yo! Kenma, how’s it going with Y/N? Been a couple months now, right?” Kuroo asked over the discord server. Kenma blushed and looked down at his phone to see that you texted him.

“We’re good. She’s actually coming over in a bit so this will be my last game.” He said, smiling a little at your sweet message.

“Hey, Kenny! I’m on my way over. I’m raiding your kitchen btw I’m hungry 🤤 .”

“Ooooh, Kenma’s ‘bout to get some pussssayyy!” Kuroo teased. Kenma cringed and covered his flustered face as if anyone could see him.

“Shut up. Sh-she and I are taking it slow. I dunno if we’ll even go there today. None of your business anyways, perv!” Kenma explained, nervous about you coming over for the first time like ever.

You two had been on a few dates now, he had even met your roommate and your other friends. You two got so close after that day you had met at the GameStop and he was so grateful he came to work that day instead of calling out to binge play videogames. Kuroo erupted in furious laughter and continued his games with Kenma, enthused about him about finally getting some.

“Gotta hand it to you man, you managed to get yourself a hottie. And a gamer at that. I’m jealous.” Kuroo added, Kenma rolling his eyes.

He knew it too though. Kenma wasn’t necessarily a ladies man so it was a mystery what drew you to him. Still, he’s grateful he could spend his time with you even if you guys weren’t set in stone just yet.

Just as the game wrapped up, he received a call from his new favorite person.

“Hey, Kenma. I’m outside! Lemme in!” You giggle into the phone before the front door flung open, Kenma scooping you into his arms.

“Hey, you. Missed you.” He said into your hair. You smile and hug him back, following his lead inside. His little apartment was so cozy, gamer memorabilia all over the place as it screamed “Kenma”. It was so him. You smile and walk into his bedroom, thinking nothing of it as you gawk at his gaming setup.

“Woah. Didn’t know working at gamestop could get you a $1,000 set up!” You exclaim. Kenma laughed.

“Oh, I guess I didn’t tell you. I game professionally. GameStop is just another way for me to be close to videogames. Discounts are nice too.” He explained.

“So you’re a streamer?”

“Yup. You should watch me sometime. I-If you want.” Kenma said flustered. You smile and hook your arms around his neck and give him a peck on the nose.

You two spent most of the day talking about games and the lastest on manga you were both reading. Everytime you talked to him, he gave you something new to read and you’d talk about it next time you talked about it together.

Soon, you two were cuddling and watching shitty rom-coms; making fun of them became your favorite past time. You chuckle as the female protagonist says something completely cheesy about loving her love interest forever and gag at the kissing scene, Kenma covering his face in second hand embarrassment.

Then he took one look at you, snuggled up against him with your ass poking out against his groin. You were the little spoon, his arms around your waist as you look up at him from time to time to make a comment on the movie. Kenma was in love. But he had no idea how to tell you without scaring you off. What if it’s too soon? What if she doesn’t feel the same?

A cheesy sex scene displayed on the T.V causing you to get a little hot. Sure it was pretty lame but the thought of having sex right now; especially cuddled up with a cute boy, wasn’t too bad of an idea. Kenma’s sweating a little too, his dick growing hard as he realized the girl he really liked was laying in bed with him while watching borderline porn together; his face red as tomatos.

“Shit, I hope she doesn’t feel my dick poking against her. Fuck, she’s just so pretty.. I just wanna-“

“K-Kenma..?” You breath out, wet and face full of embarrassment.

“Yeah?” He said.

“I-I uh.. I don’t know how to say this but.. I’m h-horny.” You whisper as if someone else was in the room other than you two.

“A-Are you really?” Kenma asked, his dick growing more at the thought of how wet you were under your sweatpants, how hard and perky your nipples were under your bra. Fuck, he had to have you.

“Yeah.. I don’t know why but this scene is.. kinda turning me on.” You said, turning to face him to see his face bright red and eyes full of lust. You gulp, just as hungry as he is.

“Me too.” He said, staring down at your plump lips.

“Yeah?” You ask with seduction coating your tongue unintentionally, licking your lips as you bit down lightly as you looked up at him.

“Yeah.”

Kenma inched closer to your face, you following his lead as your lips finally met; your first kiss. The kiss was heavy, hands exploring and groping each other as you both moan into the kiss.

Clothes are shed and thrown to the side of the bed, Kenma drinking in the sight of your half naked body and savoring it. He pulled you back into the kiss, his tongue searching your mouth as you received him eagerly. You were making out so heavily, foreplay almost wasn’t even needed with how wet you got from his touch and kiss. You became so needy for him, the spot between your legs aching as your heart skipped eight beats.

“Kenma I-“ you said breaking the kiss, interrupted by a feral Kenma.

“No. I-I wanna take my time with you. Don’t rush.” You nod, Kenma grabbing your chin to pull you up to kiss him again.

You gasp, his hands a little cold as he touched your breasts. He groped and squeezed them, playing with your nipples as your squirm to gain friction in your panties.

You’re whining against Kenma’s mouth, desperate for him to touch you where you needed him most. As Kenma pulled away, he took a brief moment to look down at your body as he climbed on top of you.

“You’re so pretty.” He gushed, causing you to giggle and reach up to move his hair from his face.

“You too. U-Uh I mean, you’re handsome.” You said weakly, aching for something more than just kissing. He smirked at you, like a switch went off in his mind. He wasn’t the sweet and shy Kenma he was a second ago, feral lust changing his demeanor as he took a nipple into his mouth. You moan, your breath shaky as he ghosts his fingers over your panties; him feeling a wet spot on them as he hummed.

“You’re so wet, angel.” He moaned, you surprised at your new nickname. Kenma’s fingers are pulling your panties aside expertly and coating them in your slick in seconds, your moans filling his ears as he prodded them at your entrance. Your breathing becomes uneven as he slids them inside, suckling on your nipple as he looked you in the eyes.

You’re a moaning mess for him, the sounds of the movie playing were drowned out by your pathetic little moans as Kenma fingered you with his slim fingers.

“Hah.. Uuugh, K-Kenmaaa.” You gasp, an orgasm brewing in the pit of your stomach. Kenma chuckled, pulling away from your breast to coax you; talking you through the orgasm about to wash over your body as his fingers hooked to find that spot you like.

“Am I making you feel good, baby?” He asks, you unable to answer as you hold his arm for dear life. “Answer me.”

“Y-Yes! God, Ah! I’m gonna-“

“I know, baby. Cum for me. Cum all over my fucking fingers.” He cooed, rubbing harsh circles into your clit as your legs nearly jolt closed, the pleasure becoming too much as you boil over.

“Yeahhhh baby. Good girl.” He mumbled, rubbing your clit slowly to help ride out your peak, leaving soft kisses on your forehead to soothe you.

You let out a deep sigh, warn out from fingering alone. No one has ever made you feel this good using just his hands. Imagine what he can do to you with his dick.

“Bend over, baby.” Kenma said, motioning for you to turn over on the bed by tapping your outer thigh. You blink dumbly at him, your high still lingering as you flip yourself over on the bed and lay flat.

“Ass up.” He demanded, striking your ass with just enough power to snap you out of your finger-dumb trance. You yelp and arch your back, bringing your ass closer to him as he grabbed your hips.

Kenma stayed still for a while and marveled at your ass bent over for him, rubbing your ass with his big hands and smacking it every so often. He bit his lip, mumbling fuck under his breath as he teased his dick against your already worn out pussy.

You turn to look back at him, lust in your eyes and a face Kenma would never forget.

“F-fuck me. Please Ken, I n-need you.” You beg, tearing up at the feeling of Kenma’s smooth dick brushing up against your sensitive clit.

“Say no more, baby. Gonna fuck you so good.” He hissed, nearly shoving himself inside. You gasp, the feeling of him stretching you so deliciously forcing a guttural moan from your chest.

Kenma started his pace hard yet slow, making sure you felt every inch; every vein of his dick, giving it his all as he ripped your noises from your mouth.

You’re panting, unable to keep up with him as you grip onto the sheets. You shoved your face into his pillows, screams uncontrollably leaving your lips as Kenma started brutally pounding into your poor pussy.

“Uhhnnn! I-I love you Kenma!” You shout, biting down on the pillow as you feel your chest get hot in embarrassment. God, why did you have to say love? Surely he doesn’t feel the same just yet.

“Fuck, I love you too, Y/N. Hah, I wanted to say that to you for so long.” Kenma admits, grabbing a fist full of your hair and yanking you up to him as he hummed sweet praised into your ear as he fucked you stupid. You sob, relieved he felt the same way.

The ultimate exchange of love between two people emerged as he threw you back onto the bed and raised on leg up onto the bed to gain a better angle on that sweet spot of yours causing you to shriek and clench around him as you come close to cumming. Suddenly, the searing hot pleasure stops as Kenma pulled out of you. You whine, your entire body shuddering from the extreme loss.

“Get up. I want you over my desk.” Kenma said, pulling you off the bed by your arm. He was being so rough with you right now you almost thought you were fucking a completely different person; Kenma the shy and awkward gamer boy transformed into the sexiest Dom you’d ever been with.

Your legs wobble as you stood bent over his desk and gaming set up, your naked chest pressed against the cold wood as you wait for him to fuck you again. Kenma prodding himself at your entrance and leaned down close to your ear, sliding himself inside you once more with a grunt.

“You feel so good, you know that? Ugh, I’m gonna ruin you.” He huffed, you answering with a whine. He’s plowing you into his desk before you can respond properly, your hands glued onto the sides of it for dear life. Sooner than late, your orgasm is knocking at your door. Tears bubble in your eyes as you cry out for Kenma.

“C-C-Can I cum now? P-please godd let me cum Ken, ahhah!” You babble, almost unable to hold yourself back for much longer as he pummeled you nice and hard.

“G’head, baby. Cum nice and hard for me.” Kenma granted, giving your ass a hard smack to make you clench around his dick harder as you came. It was amazing. It was like a volcano erupted inside you, loud moans and sobs filling the room as your chest heaved in and out.

Kenma ruts into you one last time and pulls out swiftly, stroking his dick to release himself onto your ass as you sigh from the loss. You both stand still for a while, Kenma staring down at your coating ass cheeks and you at your fucked out reflection of his monitor. You feel him step away, too drunk off your orgasm to even care what he’s doing as he cleans you up and leads you back to bed.

“I dunno where I threw your shirt so I’m just gonna grab one of mine, okay?” Kenma says, rubbing small circles into your back. You nod, eyes closed as you hum into the pillow in comfort.

You tried not to doze off as Kenma dressed you in some clothes of his that you were totally going to steal, his scent coating the fabric of his t-shirt. After a little while, Kenma’s in bed with you lacing his body with yours as he stroked your back to soothe you to sleep.

“Can I sleep over?” You ask cutely. Kenma smiled and kissed your forehead.

“Duh.” He said. You giggle and nuzzle your head into his chest, taking in his scent as you start to doze off.

“Kenma?”

“Hm?”

“Did you mean that? What you said when we were... you know.” You ask, unsure. Kenma grabbed your chin and turned you to face him.

“Of course. I-I uh..” He paused. “I knew loved you the day I met you, Y/N.”

You tear up, pulling him up to kiss you.

“Same.” You say, holding him impossibly closer.

“So does this mean we’re-“ Kenma’s interrupted by the sound of you falling fast asleep, small snores driving Kenma into cuteness overload. He sighs, kissing your forehead as you slept on his chest.

Moments like these are truly ones to cherish.

Tags!

@officialvanitype

wanna be tagged? dm me!

[secondhand-trash]

(Young Nekomata is hot and you agree too, just admit it)

A/N: is this a joke or is this not you decide after taking a look at this and tell me you don’t get why I’m doing this to myself now, also @bobawithpomegranate i hope you’re proud of yourself

Pairing: YOUNG!YOUNG!YOUNG!Nekomata Yasufumi x f!reader (he’s aged DOWN, D OWN)

Word count: 1207 (god fucking damn it)

Warning: I think the pairing tag is enough of a warning on its own, semi-pubilc (you’re in an alley), vaginal fingering

It was not your fault that the assistant coach for your younger brother’s volleyball team was very attractive. 

“They are waiting for us- unh!” you clasped your hand onto your lips when you pulled away from him only to have him slamming his lips back onto you in an instance. Nekomata did not seem to be happy about the deviation of your attention, his hand roughly groping your hip as he held you up. For a man of his size, he was surprisingly strong, holding you in place as your knees bucked when he left you breathless from kiss after kiss.

“They’re all drunk,” he whispered as he tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth, slanted eyes glowing at you like a predator as his hand inched up your skirt, “they won’t notice.”

You tried to find the slither of rationality in you, reminding yourself that you were here to celebrate the Nekoma volleyball club’s recent win, not to mess around with the young coach at the back alley of the izakaya. “But-” you whimpered, letting out a pitiful whine when he shoved his knee between your legs, nudging it at your clothed cunt. His lips ghosted at your neck, nibbling along his way as he settled on your collarbone. 

Nekomata chuckled, the soft touch of his lips making you shiver when he rode your skirt up until he could see the lace of your panties just from the corner of his sharp vision. You felt so soft, he could already feel you heating up. Under his hands, above his knee. He knew he would like you the first time you showed up at a practice match, cheering the loudest when the team scored and even louder when your brother was up on the court. 

Smart boy, that kid, but he was not ashamed to say that he was far more intrigued by you.

He struck up a conversation with you when they were packing up, thanking you for always supporting the team. You smiled, saying that you were mostly there for your brother. He nodded understandingly, and proceed to tell you more about how the boy acted during practice, how he thought the kid had potential (it wasn’t a lie), how lucky he was for having such a lovely sister there to cheer for him.

He was grinning ear to ear when you gave him your phone number when he offered to tell you about matches they might have soon.

One thing led to another, he started talking to you more and more. First about your brother, about the team, then eventually more about himself, more about you. It was his idea to invite you to the post-match get-together, even more so when the kids were getting tired and he told you about how the teachers and coaches were gonna have an after party without the kids.

“You should come,” he noticed the way you shudder when his hand brushed against yours when he turned to you at the table, and flashed you a smile, “it’ll be fun.”

Sure enough, you were a lot less cautious when your brother was finally not around and he was no longer just your brother’s coach but “Nekomata kun”. God, how pretty you sounded when you said his name all giggly, leaning over onto his shoulder when you were laughing over some joke another person made. You didn’t move away when he swiftly put his hand on your waist, holding you there as you laid against him. He could feel your chest pressing up against his side, all warm and soft and oh so tempting. 

You stiffened up when his hand moved lower and lower, stopping where your hip bone jutted out. He was smiling like nothing was going on when you looked up at him, all doe-eyed and trembling breaths as your pupil dilated. You darted your glance away, looking around the table and realised that you two were the only ones still sober at the table.

Your eyelids fluttered, looking at him behind your lashes as he continued to smile at you all while having his hand on your hips.

You gulped, and mustered up the bit of courage inside of you.

“Do you want to go get some fresh air outside?”

The air at the meek alleyway was nowhere near fresh and it was not like you were taking many breaths with his lips chasing after yours. Your hands dug at his back when he held your thigh up, lifting it and hooking it around his waist as his other hand snaked down to the crotch of your soaked panties. 

“Is this all for me?” he chuckled as he nudged the lace to the side, running the pad of his middle finger along your folds. Your eyes were half-closed, lips swollen from how eager he had been. He had yanked down the collar of your shirt when he pressed your back against the brick wall, the swell of your chest now barely visible to his hungry gaze. 

He made a mental remark to himself that he needed to leave some marks on you later when you were somewhere more private.

“Ngh!” you moaned when you felt his digit pushing into your cunt, the slender finger pumping experimentally all while its owner was drinking in your lustful expression. The wetness coating his finger sent a rush to his core, his face heating up in thrill when you slowly lose the control to hold your voice in the moment he added another one.

He started off slow, dragging the calloused pad of his fingers along your spongey walls to test the waters. You clawed at his back for dear life, whimpering his name as you tried to hide your fast into his shoulder. Your entire body jerked when he brushed past a particular soft spot and he licked his lips, taking you by surprise when he gave a sharp flick of his wrist. The sound of squelching bounced off the walls of this empty alleyway, sending shame and arousal straight to your head as he only got rougher and rougher with you. 

“You’re already clamping down on me so hard,” you could feel the vibration from his chest as he spoke, “how will you manage if I try to put in something bigger?”

You whined at the thinly veiled hint and he chuckled at how you shook your head so helplessly. “No?” he said, pulling his fingers out of your briefly to spread your juices onto your clit, rubbing the bud between his fingers gently, “Do you not want more?”

You shook your head again, this time much faster and much more desperately. He cooed, forcing down his urge to just take you right then and there when you snapped up at him with such teary eyes as he pulled away completely. 

Your face burnt when he brought his fingers to his lips, swirling his tongue around the glistening digits that were covered in your slick.

“Be a good girl for me tonight,” you shivered when he pulled you into his chest, his hand wandering everywhere as he tugged your clothes back in place all while whispering into your ear, “and I’ll make sure you get many more.”

[dashielldeveron]

and i’ve gotta crow | takami keigo

hawks x pro-hero! reader. quirk unspecified.

summary: “You’re suffering from amnesia,” says Hawks to you, in your hospital bed.

No, you are not.

“We’re engaged to be married.”

No, you are not.

After an accident that was that bastard Hawks’s fault, you decide to play along with your diagnosis of amnesia, among other things, because how far can you make your former bully bend over backwards for you?

fluff/trickery??? completely avoidable angst, bc reader is a little shit. hawks is a scumbag bully at first. reader is honestly kind of violent. dealing with acne in a scene.

When the first things you saw after groggily blinking your eyes open were multiple IVs in the back of your hand, you flipped over and snuggled farther into your hospital bed to deal with it later, but against your will you were forced to lie flat on your back to stare into the hospital fluorescents.

When the nurse fiddling with your IVs came into focus, he said, “You need to lie on your back. You have deep gashes on your lower abdomen, and tossing about too much could open the stitches.”

That sounded like bullshit, but you were too out of it to care. “Yeah, okay,” you said through a croak, “Oh, fuck.” You wrestled a hand to your throat, massaging it. “Am I waking up from a coma? Don’t let anyone see me until I’ve done my eyebrows.”

The nurse laughed through his nose. “No, don’t worry. You’ve barely been—” He cut himself off and frowned. “The news should probably be broken to you when you have emotional support. I’ll be back soon.”

He left.

Emotional support? Wouldn’t that fucking gash on your stomach be—ooh, ouch, don’t move.

Where’s your phone? Where’s your goddamn phone; where’s any of your personal belongings? If they got crushed, you’re killing Hawks on sight.

Hawks, oh, my God. Where is he? He’s dead. If he still has the audacity to bully you professionally—fuck.

He’d cornered you on patrol earlier—whenever that was—and cut into you in that casually, negging-type way that wasn’t enough to report but enough to make you stay up late and freak out about being good enough. It hurt your chest whenever you thought about it.

But this was the first time he’d gotten seriously physical.

He’d alit on the top of the warehouse next to you, landing what would have been haphazardly for anyone else (the arch of his feet against the edge, his toes barely touching roof) and had crouched next to you, his scarlet wings completely blowing your cover as they stretched and shuddered.

“What’s a little girl like you doing in this part of town?” Hawks had propped his chin on both his fists. “Thought shoplifters were more your calibre.”

“Hawks, this is actually really important to me, so please, please leave,” you’d said, keeping your eyes on the group you could barely make out through the skylight. They’d already been partially concealed by crates, so they were hard to see.

“Someone else give you a tip for their location?” He’d tapped your opposite shoulder with the end of his wing, but you hadn’t even flinched.

“Bruh, you know I’ve been on this for weeks,” you’d said, shifting away from him, “I even shared intel at your last briefing.”

“Is that what you were talking about?” Hawks had scratched his chin. “I zoned out. Usually the little cases female heroes present aren’t in my circle, and I like to unwind when brain power isn’t needed.”

You’d planned to rip his wings out feather by feather while you’d gritted your teeth. “You can’t talk to me like that, Hawks.”

He’d laughed, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “C’mon, babygirl, have a slice of chill, won’t you? I thought you were one of the cool girls. Relax. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“Leave me alone, Hawks. You’re not gonna bully me into joining your agency. You’re not gonna bully me into quitting being a hero,” you’d said, inwardly screaming, “I’d tell you to go talk to someone who’d fall for your shit, but then, she’d have to suffer, too. So, fuck off into a sewer, jackass.”

“Oof,” Hawks had said, placing a hand over his heart and shaking his head, “You don’t have to be such a bitch, sweetheart. I’m only looking for my better half. Didn’t think it could be you, but I’d thought I’d give you a chance to prove me wrong. Don’t take yourself too seriously; just be along for the ride like the rest of us.”

“Huh,” you had said, and you’d stood and strode to the edge of the warehouse to your harness and rope, and you rappelled down the side of it as stealthily as you came up.

“I’ve been watching you all these years, sweetness, and I know you by now; I know how you really feel,” Hawks had said a bit too loudly while he flew downwards at your speed (braggart). “Strip away all of your busy work, your so-called hero trappings, and we’d mesh together just fine. We may be rough around the edges, but we clean up really nicely, don’t we?”

You’d unclipped your carabiner and stepped out of your harness, stashing it in your pack. “Fuck off.”

You’d moved towards the back entrance, but Hawks had slammed a hand against the concrete wall in front of you. You’d ducked under it and carried on, and he’d grabbed the back of your shirt.

“C’mon, if we didn’t know each other, and our eyes met from across the room at some hero gala, you’d be all over me, wouldn’t you?”

You had swiped his hand away. “I’d be putting a lid on my drink.”

His arms behind his back, Hawks had followed you through the door and behind the exposed pipes and closer to your targets. “Saw you coming onto Todoroki at the last one. You looked fine in his colours, but you would’ve looked better in mine.”

Don’t grace him with an answer; don’t grace him with an ans— “I wasn’t coming onto Shoto,” you’d said, pulling yourself up a couple of pipes for a better view—and you’d hit him when he flapped his wings to hover the few feet you’d ascended, because the noise might alert them.

“Yeah, you just simp for him, right? Then you didn’t step outside your comfortable ice queen act?” Hawks had gripped onto a pipe just underneath your ass. “You’re too much of a natural tease for that.”

How can you report him when he’s the head of his own agency? You guess the commission might listen, but what can they do besides slap his wrist? There’s really no one who can stop him, is there?

You hadn’t replied but instead crawled onto the iron catwalk. If you could position yourself about three-quarters of the way across, you’d be able to effectively activate your quirk and get this over with—wait, why would you think like that? You’d been waiting for this for ages.

A hand spreading across the small of your back had reminded you.

You’d flipped over with fire in your eyes and kicked him away as quietly as you could, but all he’d done was sit back on his knees to grin down at you, army-crawling your way through a dirty warehouse.

Would he take credit for your work again?

You’d shaken yourself. Eat my entire ass, Hawks. And with that, you’d continued inching towards your targets. When you’d gotten into position to watch them, Hawks had merely watched you.

You had scowled. “I’m gonna tear you a—”

“You had a hard childhood, didn’t you?”

A chill had unfurled up your spine, simple as that. Hawks now not only had the annoying air of an arrogant pick-up artist but also gave you an intense sense of danger. You’d moved away from him, regrettably away from your target, but Hawks had followed you, getting closer until his body heat had seeped into yours, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his dumb face.

“I could take suuuuch good care of you, little girl,” he’d said under his breath, “if only you’d let me. No one else is crazy enough to call me out or want more than the bare minimum.” His wings had folded in on his back, making themselves as small as possible to get closer to you. “If you give in, tell me yes, say please, you wouldn’t have to let any worries cross your pretty little mind. All you have to do is let me in.”

“Yikes,” you had said, sucking in through your teeth, “God, you’re a creep.”

Hawks had slammed you down onto the catwalk, iron reverberating through the warehouse as it struck your head, and your targets had looked up by the time the catwalk hinges had loosened and had come crashing down in the midst of their meeting.

You’re really not supposed to shoot guns inside. Don’t they know that’ll ruin their ears? No matter, really. You had fought them anyway, amidst crates splintering open from whatever they were shooting at you—fuck, that was a big hole. What’s oozing out of that? Gross, don’t step in it.

One with a normal revolver—his arm had given a woody crack when you’d bent it backwards—God, that was nice. Good sounds. If you could sample them into a rap track, you would.

You’d been planning a collab with a popular rapper while you’d hurled yourself at another villain, sawdust flying—just to keep your mind busy, really, but fucking—fucking Hawks had bested whoever he’d half-assed to the ground and had shouted your way.

“C’mere, you little shit—”

He’d scooped you up while you’d been taking care of it by yourself, and he had pinned you down behind a stack of crates that reached the remains of the catwalk, straddling you but keeping most of his weight off, his wings outstretched yet still hidden from the cloud of sawdust rising with deep gurgling on the far side.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” he’d said over the chaos, spit flying, “You can’t handle this; you’re gonna get fucking killed. I can’t babysit you all the time.”

“Get fucked; I’m the number fourteen hero,” you’d said, deadly still, but twitching in fury, “I can handle anyth—”

“Aww, fourteen. And one day babygirl might reach the single digits.” Hawks had sneered in your face. “If she manages to fuck her way through them.”

Your jaw had dropped, and you pretended to cough on sawdust and kicked him off in the confusion. Hawks had grabbed a hold of your calf, grappling for your thigh, while you’d scrambled to climb over crates to the gurgling mess on the other side; you could handle it, and you would.

You’d slapped his hands away, wrestled out of his grasp again and again, and you’d launched yourself into the dust—

Yeah.

While the fluorescent lights flickered overhead, you picked at a hangnail. You hadn’t braced yourself for the explosion, so, you guessed you deserved whatever was wrong with you now. Big-ass gashes on your stomach. Probably broken ribs. Something felt off in your left leg, besides—oh, ho, what had the doctors thought when they’d seen Hawks’s scratches?

What an idiot.

When the door creaked open, the nurse returned with a mug of water for you, but—what? Who’s that bitch following him?

You blinked, twice. With his hands in his pockets and his nasty little wings tucked in behind him, Hawks meandered to your bedside, his gaze on your throat as you swallowed down water.

God, you’re too tired to deal with him. Let’s get this over with.

The nurse glanced over his clipboard. “I’ve already told your partner this, but I thought you would want him here.”

Maybe if you ignore Hawks, he’ll leave.

“You were very brave today,” said the nurse, “Your work as a hero is greatly appreciated. You’re on temporary leave to heal, though. Like I said, you’ve got three, major gashes on your stomach, and your leg’s broken—the fibula split, if you want to know. You’ll be on crutches for a while. You have four broken ribs, and—” The nurse bit his lip and softened his voice. “You hit your head pretty hard. Nothing’s broken, but you should have amnesia, with the trauma you’ve endured.”

Should have? They don’t know? You sure as hell don’t fucking have amnesia. It barely happens in real life, and it definitely hasn’t happened to you. You remembered every fucking infuriating thing Hawks did to ruin your mission, and if he doesn’t square up—

“I’m so sorry, baby,” said Hawks, grabbing your hand. He stroked the back of it with his thumb, and then he took his glove off to hold you skin-to-skin. “You remember who I am?”

You just stared at him.

“Your fiancé’s been a real presence in the waiting room,” said the nurse, “He hardly stopped pacing the entire time you were in surgery. He wouldn’t even talk to fans.”

Oh, my God.

Holy fucking shit.

“Oops, sorry,” said the nurse, covering his mouth, “I know you were keeping it a secret. Don’t blame him, please; he only told me to be able to see you immediately.”

Shutting your eyes, you took a deep, deep breath. You have been handed a golden opportunity on a fucking Hawks-shaped platter, holy fuck, and by God are you going to take advantage of it. Imagine how much you can fucking humiliate him, how far you can take it. How much you can make him pay for how he treated you, and now, if he says he’s your fiancé, then he’s gonna fucking worship you. You’re going to mould him into your little bitch, and he’s going to thank you for it. And you’ll get endless dirt on him just by seeing his place.

Don’t fuck this up.

Exhaling, you opened your eyes, blinking a bit. You curled your lips into your mouth, biting the lower one. “I remember you’re Hawks,” you said in a nervous voice, “and I remember, uh.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” Hawks squeezed your hand, his tone kind. “It’ll come back in time.”

You clutched Hawks’s hand while the nurse rattled off instructions and gave you your crutches, and Hawks squeezed your hand back, softly smiling at you.

When the nurse left, you turned to Hawks and said, “I’m so, so sorry, but I—I feel like there’s something big missing that I can’t remember.” You scratched your forehead with your free hand, dragging the IVs with you.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Hawks tilted his head, still gazing decidedly down at you.

“Oh, God,” you said, “Oh, fuck. I don’t know. Um.” Take it back. Take it way back. That way he’ll dig himself into a deeper hole. The more lies he has to create, the funnier it’ll be. “Let’s see, I, hm.” You already weren’t speaking like yourself, but you looked upward as you faked combing through memories. “I don’t know how things work chronologically, but the most recent memory I have of you is—it’s after a press conference, and I’ve never been in the building before,” you said slowly, “And I can’t find the bathroom, but some press keeps following me, and I—I faceplant in between your shoulder blades, right between your wings. You—” You lowered your voice, shrinking a little in the hospital bed, “You got rid of them so easily, with just a gesture, and you put your arm around me. You were—” You shook your head, staring at both of your hands. “—so warm.”

Was that too thick? That was too thick, wasn’t it?

His free hand shot to his mouth, and he bit his knuckle. “But sweetheart, that’s,” said Hawks, his eyes watering, “That’s only around the third time we met.”

You know.

“Shit,” you said, widening your eyes, “How long ago was that?”

“Three years.” Hawks squeezed your hand and kept the pressure longer than was necessary. “Three fucking years. You don’t remember anything past that?”

You pretended to be scared to look at him. “I’m sorry; I’m so sorry—”

“No, no, you don’t have to be,” said Hawks, and he leant towards you to lift your chin, rubbing his thumb against it, “It’s not your fault.”

You had to hand it to him: Hawks was a good actor.

But so were you.

***

Hawks disappeared for a while after that, but he manifested the day you were loosed from the hospital, more than giddy to carry all of your shit all the way to your flat. He was probably getting some sick pleasure from watching you hobble on your crutches.

“I can help you, if you lean on me,” said Hawks, giving you an easy grin, “I don’t want you to be in any more pain than you have to.”

“This is something I should do myself,” you said in what was hopefully a tough-it-out voice, “I’d like to be able to walk without depending on anyone.”

“I honestly think you ought to be in a wheelchair.” His wings bristled. “But what do I know? I could fly us to your place, if you like.”

“I don’t like. I’ve gotta concentrate on limping. Stop talking, Hawks.”

You got to your flat, and Hawks had guessed which key opened the door on the first try. Drat! He was already doing a good job of acting like he’d been here before, like he’s not surprised that the number fourteen hero lives in a pretty shitty apartment (you started living here as a student and got too damn comfortable for your own good—plus, you didn’t want your cat to endure the trauma of moving).

Hawks plopped your keys in the bowl by the door with a clatter, and he shut the front door behind you, flipping one of the locks.

He set your stuff neatly on the kitchen table—your purse, your tactical pack, your ropes—and lay your dry-cleaned hero suit over the back of a kitchen chair, and his hands were on you the next moment to guide you to your tacky, sunflower couch. Removing one crutch, he put your arm over his shoulder instead, one hand planted on your lower back above your bandages, and he eased you down onto the cushions.

Hawks then stepped over your legs to sit on your opposite side, and he brought your legs to rest in his lap, his hand gripping your non-casted leg. “Gotta keep it elevated, chickadee.”

You let yourself giggle. Time to get this shitshow started. “Thank you so much for helping me, Hawks; I know I’ve been a real hassle these past few days, and you shouldn’t have to deal with that sort of stress. You’re already under so much. I don’t understand how the commission would let you date anyone, let alone propose.”

“Oh, I know,” said Hawks, spreading himself out on the couch. He shifted himself to face you in addition to accommodate his wings—he was now positioned so that they’d drape over the arm of the couch instead of being squished against the back cushions. That bitch, he probably wasn’t used to couches that weren’t custom made to his special body requirements. Spoiled fuck.

“The commission was really pissed when they found out. Do you remember how, sweetness? Right, I’ll tell you,” said Hawks, running an ungloved hand through his hair before shaking it loose. “You remember up to the press conference with the faceplant. Short version is that you hated me for a good year before something clicked. You started acting awkward whenever I was around, avoiding me, and stuff. Sometimes getting red. I thought it was cute.”

You ducked your head. Flustered. He probably likes easily flustered women.

Wait. That’s not who you are. And he’d like you for who you are, if you’re engaged.

But at the same time, if you’re (gag) in love with him, wouldn’t you be flustered by some of the things he says?

Easy, baby. Take it as it comes. Pick your battles. Go with your gut.

And gut says make Hawks eat shit.

“You think I’m cute?”

“I know you’re cute.”

You’re going to stuff his own feathers down his throat.

“We got together at that dinner Endeavor’s agency sponsored. Do you remember that at all? That place with the purple lights. You’d gotten nervous from the crowd and had gone to take some of your anxiety meds. I caught you in the hall back from the bathroom and talked you down before going back out there.” He grinned sheepishly. “I’d like to say I’m the one who kissed you, but you took initiative before I had the guts.”

Funny. Hilarious, in fact. That was the night Hawks had solidified himself as the Biggest Dick in the World, because yeah, he’d caught you in the purple-lit hallway, but he’d caught you on the way to take your meds, not on the way back. You were talking yourself down from a panic attack and couldn’t argue him away, so he’d followed you into the bathroom, running his mouth and acting like it was an accident when the tip of his wing had knocked your two capsules down the sink.

He’d told you that if you’re a big girl, you’d be able to handle the rest of the night. Or you could leave at any time with him, and he’d make excuses that everyone would have to accept.

Honestly, you’d love to let his fake memory be true, because then, you’d be able to wear purple again without feeling queasy.

Cocking your head, you smiled. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do.”

Hawks let out a light laugh, craning his neck to rest his head on the back of the sofa. “That’s what you said that night, too. About how it felt out of character.”

“Was I good?”

Lifting his head, he raised an eyebrow at you: probably the first genuine emotion he’s shown you the whole time he’s been here. “Hm?”

“When I kissed you. Was it good,” you asked flatly.

“Oh,” Hawks said, his wings puffing out just barely, “Oh, sweetheart, you were amazing. Groundbreaking. Show-stopping.” His tongue flicked over his lower lip, and he shifted underneath your legs, leaning slightly towards you but holding eye contact before carrying on.

You shook your head. “I don’t have the energy to give you the makeout session you deserve,” you said, envisioning drowning him in the bathtub, “I’m exhausted. Forgive me.”

“Always,” said Hawks, “Want me to keep going?”

“You can hardly eat me out when we haven’t kissed yet.”

“I meant,” said Hawks, pausing to visibly swallow (was it real?), “about our relationship, but if you wanna eat—”

“Nah, keep going. So, I started the relationship? I must be crazy. Neither of us have fucking time to sleep, let alone be in a relationship.”

Hawks never shut up about how he was taking time out of his endlessly packed days to spend time with you, how time was precious to him, and if he’s spending time with you, why, then, you’d better pay up, bitch (always accompanied with his hands on his belt, subtly pointing his thumbs towards his cock).

Hawks shrugged with his wings instead of his shoulders. Interesting. Has he ever done that before? “The commission said that, but after I insisted we’d make time, they relented. Eventually,” said Hawks, jerking his head to the side, “Our quirks don’t exactly fit well, so we haven’t worked with each other professionally too often, and, of course, we’ve had to hide our relationship so that we can’t be a public weak spot to each other. Plus, we’re more marketable as eligible, young heroes.”

“Fuck the market,” you said, slumping into the pillows.

“There’s my girl,” said Hawks, grinning with his tongue caught between his teeth, “There’s her spark. I know, baby. I feel the same way, but being made into libidinous body pillows pays the bills, y’know?”

Nodding, you brought one of the couch pillows around for you to hug, and you smushed your chin into it. “Hawks,” you said, so quietly you almost couldn’t be heard over the A/C kicking on, “How long have we been engaged?”

“Four months,” he said, his grin unconsciously fading until he was essentially baring his teeth, “Since the twentieth.”

Taking a moment, you said, “I can’t remember anything at all.”

“That’s okay. It’ll come back.”

“No, I can’t—” You slid your hands through your hair, pulling at it, and you heaved a sigh. “Goddammit, Hawks. I wish I could—fuck. I’m missing something huge. I know I am.” Make him nervous. Make him lie awake at night. “I’m sorry, Hawks. It’s probably something really important, and I—”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh, it’s all right,” said Hawks, and he stood to lean over you, his hands rising to cup your face, and holy shit, his hands cover so much of your skin; is that legal? He’s got hands. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ve had a big day. Turn your brain off. I’ll take care of you.”

Red flag! Big, red flag! Creep! He’s a creep!

Your gaze fell to his jacket pockets. Does he carry date rape drugs on his person?

“Hawks, I don’t wanna inconvenience you any more than I have.”

“I’m your fiancé,” said Hawks, actually looking you straight in the eyes and not breaking, “I want to take care of you.”

“Sure, in the way the mob takes care of people.”

Hawks’s mouth opened slightly, and his eyes narrowed.

Cover it up. “I’m not sorry. I don’t trust your cooking. You’ll poison my spaghetti!” You made a dumb gesture, pinching your fingers together. “Have you seen The Godfather? There’s actually a pretty legit spaghetti recipe in it; it’s not too bad, but it’s kind of watery—”

Hawks brought your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles and let his lips linger. “Watch it with me?”

You shook your head. “I’m too tired. I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll join you.”

“No,” you said, “My bed’s not made with your wings in mind.” Fuck off to your own little sex next, Hawks. Get out of here. “If they got hurt, it’d be my fault. Go sleep in your own bed, all right?” Go home. Get mugged on the way.

Hawks sighed, blowing his hair out of his eyes. “If you insist. But you’ve gotta reach out to me for anything you have trouble with, yeah? Memories, opening jars, orgasms, you know.”

“I’m leaving,” you said, reaching for your crutches, “Ten minutes ago.”

***

“You didn’t tell me how you proposed.”

Hawks froze mid-bite of his ramen, but after a quick beat, he slurped the rest of the noodle up. “I was hoping you’d recall that on your own, baby. Get your own feelings about it, instead of me telling you how to feel.”

If you weren’t faking amnesia, you’d fucking break his nose for that. Bastard.

“I imagine once you tell me, the feelings will rush in,” you said, clicking your chopsticks twice for emphasis, “I want to remember everything, and if I don’t, well, I want to fall in love with you again.”

Hawks’s gaze glazed over for an infinitesimal moment. Score.

“It’ll sound goofy once I describe it.” With his wings cramped against the back of the booth, Hawks scratched the back of his neck—a classic move for pretending to be embarrassed. “I’m not exactly known for being romantic.”

Yeah, he’s known for fooling around with anyone who’s glittery, like a goddamn crow. If you’re paying attention.

“Aw, but Hawks, you’ve been nothing but so effortlessly romantic to me since I’ve been convalescing,” you said, rolling up the paper wrapper of your straw and soaking it in the ring your cup left on the table.

“Right, well. I flew us out to the countryside, to this overlook halfway up a mountain. You liked going rappelling there a lot. To practise for missions.” Hawks had some of your habits down, at least. Bet he gets the location wrong, though. “We watched the sunrise. We shared a thermos of tea. I asked you once the sun had risen, but you didn’t say yes right away,” said Hawks, “You jumped off the overlook without your gear, and I caught you. You were furious about it—you didn’t want me to see you overwhelmed. But you said yes.”

Ugh. That sounded about right. That sounded pretty realistic. Hawks was a fucking stalker.

“Fuck,” you said, burying your face in your hands, “That’s cute.” You stretched the skin of your cheeks before releasing, and you returned to your ramen. “Question: did we put the ring into storage, or something? I don’t have the little indent on my ring finger from wearing a ring too long, and I haven’t found anything at home.” Make him sweat. Make him stumble. Where’s the ring, Hawks?

With a flash of his eyebrows, Hawks maneuvered his straw to his mouth using only his lips, looking quite stupid, in your opinion. “Figured you’d ask that at some point. I’m so overjoyed to see you every time that I forget to bring it up. The ring’s been sent off to a high-level, government-backed, support company. I’ve pulled in a favour from the higher-ups. I wanted to turn your ring into something a little more personal and incorporate one of my feathers into it,” said Hawks, taking a moment to slurp his drink noisily, “Depending on how well it goes, I’d be able to help you if we’re separated and know where you are. At the very least—” Hawks ducked his head to give the illusion of staring up at you with wide eyes, his blond eyelashes light against his skin. “—I’d be able to feel your heartbeat. It would bring me great comfort.”

Great, so he’d have a GPS on you at all times, knowing whether or not you went somewhere he didn’t want you to. He’d be able to tell if you went somewhere your non-amnesia self would know about. Great. Phenomenal.

“Hawks, that’s very sweet,” you said, fiddling with the remnants of your straw wrapper, now fizzled out of its snake shape, “Wouldn’t the process hurt you, though? Since you can feel it.”

“Nothing more than a twinge, sweetheart,” said Hawks, holding up his hands, “And I’d bear any amount of pain for your sake.”

You fantasised about beating his head in with the back end of a rifle.

***

When you were told Hawks was waiting for you outside of the recording booth, you told the messenger that Hawks could wait until you were finished with five more takes. You could picture Hawks’s little pout at the news, his feathers bristling despite the closed space, and resigning himself to sit in one of those clangy, metal chairs out front, having to hunch forward so that he didn’t crush his wings.

The idol group adored the ingenuity of bone-crunching as percussion in a song, and along with that and some other combat foley, you were singing the bridge with the rapper of the group (the dance captain would sing your part for live shows). It’d be a good promo for the girl group and for you, and the song, “Spine,” was going to be released as a single as soon as it was polished.

Hawks perked up the moment you stepped through the secondary door to the booth, his eyes brightening and wings spreading to take up more space. “I didn’t think I’d catch you,” said Hawks, standing to take your hands (the cold leather gloves sucked the heat out of your hands), “I’ve got to fly, soon, but I wanted to tell you personally.”

“You’re not pregnant,” you said, fighting the urge to break his goggles/visor/hat thing.

His lopsided grin widened. “Not yet, baby. There’s gonna be a heroes’ gala held at the end of the month, and I wanted to let you know that I’m doing everything in my power to make it a positive experience for you. Here, I’ve got this woman’s phone number,” he said, fishing a slip of paper out of his jacket, “She’ll help accommodate the venue for your leg.”

Stupid fucking bastard man. He probably wanted to pick out your clothes himself, infantilise you and dress you up like a goddamn doll. Deny you your personhood. “I’ll be out of the cast by then.” You slid the paper into your back pocket.

“I know,” Hawks said in a way that was a fucking lie, “I just don’t want there to be any accidents. I can’t have my babygirl any more hurt than she is.” Hawks placed his cold, gloved hand against your cheek, and you, shutting your eyes, made yourself lean into it. “But contact her. She’ll make it the safest place it can be for you, even when I have to leave your side.”

God, galas were great. Big events for villains to ruin. You licked your lips thinking about using a new move you’ve learnt to take a villain down (involving clamping your legs around the villain’s neck to choke him as he crumpled to the floor—your combat coach had banned you from the move after you made her pass out). “Are we announcing our engagement, then? If we’re going together?”

“I’d love to,” said Hawks, “but only if you want to. The ring could be ready by then, if I ask them to rush it—”

“Let’s do it.” If you plunged the ring into icy water, would he start to shiver? Ooh, your ring’s going to act as a fucking bay leaf in your soups for a while.

“Oh,” said Hawks, sighing lightly with his eyes fluttering shut. He pressed his forehead to yours and rubbed his thumb over your cheek. “You have no idea how much that means to me, sweetheart. You are so dear to me, and I want everyone to know it. The best damn thing in my life. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, placing your hand on his face to push him away, “Don’t you have work to do, screw boy?”

***

“Did we have a date?” you asked from the edge of the bathtub.

Hawks dipped the razor in the water, washing off the hair and shaving cream. “We’ve gone on so many, darling; you’ll have to specify.”

“No, I meant for the wedding.” Let’s once again play: Can Hawks Cover His Own Ass?

Hawks dragged the razor down your freshly exfoliated, freshly-un-casted, freshly not-broken leg, starting at your knee. “Nope!”

“No explanation?”

“You wanna get married tomorrow? A six-month engagement is rather short, don’t you think?” His nose twitched. He’d said the scent of your shaving cream irritated his nose. Good.

“I don’t. Why didn’t we have a date for the wedding?” You eyed the actual and literal pile of your dead skin on the towel. Maybe you should make Hawks snort it.

“We were too busy working; you’d said you didn’t mind having a long engagement, so long as I was yours. Then, uh, you know. The accident,” Hawks said with a shrug—with his shoulders this time, because if he moved his wings while he was crouched in your bathtub, he’d soak them, and they were a bitch to dry, apparently. Suffer, you rat bastard.

“The commission isn’t involved in that decision?”

“I thought that was implied,” said Hawks, gripping your ankle to turn your calf to the side, “They don’t want it to be a huge spectacle, so even I don’t know how much of a wedding wedding they’d let us have.”

He’s too damn good at this. If he weren’t a pro-hero, he’d fit right along in a theatre troupe.

You’re going to wring his neck.

You caught him staring at the crotch of your underwear (bone-dry, you might add) while he shaved your thighs, and he spent more time rubbing lotion into your inner thighs than anywhere else. He tossed your dead skin before you could make him eat it, and he scooped you up against your protestations about your weight and capability, humming while he carried you to your bed.

The fucker tucked you in and rounded up your cat to place in your arms (your cat disagreed with him and promptly leapt off the bed).

“Let me stay with you,” said Hawks, kissing each of your fingertips. It’s an order.

Yet you shook your head.

***

“The doctors said you shouldn’t drink,” Hawks said under his breath, taking the champagne flute gently from your grasp.

“But I want to,” you said, sticking out your lower lip, “I’m wearing goddamn heels and a fucking dress. I’ve got on makeup, for Christ’s sake. I’ve done my time; let me drink.”

“Baby, you’ve got to stay safe,” he said, and he set the glass next to some 40s-level hero’s place at the long, white tablecloth. “There’s already press paying more attention to us than usual. You wanna make a fool of yourself?”

“Yes,” you said, lifting another champagne flute from a passing gala waiter, “Who gives a shit about the press.”

Hawks laughed too loudly to be natural before lowering his voice. “Baby, you are gonna be the death of me.”

“Promise?”

***

When “Spine” was released on a cool, spring morning to an excitable audience, you were lurking in alleyways by the docks, searching for a fight. When the music video dropped, you were smashing some guy’s face into a concrete wall. While more and more citizens recognised you and your talent, your work for the community, your connections, your popularity—with your rank steadily rising—you were rappelling down a port sewer to pummel a slime villain into dust.

You wiped his blood off on your pants, hands devoid of anything that could taint. You’d left the ring at home.

***

“You tricked me,” you said, scowling as Hawks pushed you forward, “This isn’t the rock climbing park.”

Once you deliberately smashed your face into the glass door and crossed your arms, Hawks held the door open for you. “Would you have dressed up so nicely for rock climbing?”

“A meta-game challenge,” you said, “to rock-climb in a long skirt.”

You glowered about the restaurant while you and Hawks stood in the lobby, his hand low on your back, suspiciously respectfully. You made no effort to hide your distaste: it was the place with the purple lights.

Over there at the absurdly long bar, Endeavor had drunk flat whisky without so much of a growl at anyone, despite it being his event. Hexagonal tables with lilac tablecloths dotted the floor—you’d hidden in one of the few booths, up against the exposed brick wall—but your hiding place had been ruined once a violet disco ball had emerged from the ceiling. Shiny, wooden floor that had reflected your post-panic attack face right back at you and let every shoe strike it with a clatter. No silence allowed.

The whole restaurant had lavender LED lights running around the walls, swathing the place in a distorted sort of purple haze, and any candles lit on the centre tables had indigo flames—you’d focused on how those might have been made in the process of coming down from your panic attack.

God. You’re going to throw up.

The hostess escorted you and Hawks to a farther back room, this one with booths separated by small, brick walls that didn’t reach the ceiling yet concealed the booths’ occupants from each other—unless you were passing directly in front of one.

Hawks made you sit in the booth first, trapping you in as he settled. He had to be on the edge, anyway, he told you, because of his wings. You’re going to rip them off and boil them in the soup.

The two of you ordered. You don’t remember what. You can only channel so much of your nerves into jostling your leg. This is not cool. This place is not cool. You need to get out.

“Hey, let me through,” you said, nudging Hawks, “Bathroom.”

Once there, you lightly slapped your cheeks a couple of times, trying to ground yourself through physical sensation. No use. Can’t they fucking use normal lights in this place?

You didn’t have your panic meds, because you’ve never needed them rock climbing. You can do it. You’re fine. You’re fine. Your tongue is too big for your mouth.

You took your time meandering back to the booth, coming to a halt at the end of the narrow hallway and ducking behind the corner.

Endeavor stood by your booth, his arms crossed over a flaming chest. You caught your breath at the sight of his orange fire, a comforting contrast to all the damn purple, but still—Endeavor. Talking to your (gag) fiancé.

Without the courage to interact with Endeavor, you listened at the corner for his departure.

“Nah, she can handle her bladder just fine. It’s her nerves,” Hawks was saying, hidden by the bricks, “She likes hiding. She doesn’t necessarily like being in the spotlight.”

“Yet she hasn’t completely withdrawn as Eraserhead has. You’ve picked a strange one to marry.”

From the angle Endeavor glared at him, Hawks must be slumping in his seat. “But that’s what so great about her. And it’s hard to process, y’know, like, she’s finally mine. You follow?”

“Regrettably,” said Endeavor, “Regardless, I offer my congratulations that your courtship finally worked out in your favour. You should have told me sooner.”

Courtship. That’s a funny way to pronounce bullying.

“Eh, I’ve gotta have some secrets, don’t I? Can’t betray my otherwise cool exterior.” Hawks laughed. “I can’t believe I’ve been allowed such happiness. The woman I’ve loved for years is gonna be waking up to me every day soon, y’know?”

Hawks has got to know you can hear him, otherwise he wouldn’t be saying those things. Endeavor must be in on Hawks’s ruse, since Endeavor is Hawks’s closest—actually, Endeavor isn’t the type to revel in romantic shit. Endeavor straight-up isn’t the type to revel. To the best of your knowledge, Endeavor doesn’t genuinely like Hawks as so much as tolerates him; when did they get so close? It must have taken a long time—

Time.

You could feel your IQ dropping as you actually considered: had you been in a legitimate coma? Had you (fuck) genuinely had amnesia?

No, no. You don’t live in Crazytown. Your eyebrows hadn’t been overgrown when you’d woken up in the hospital. You’d only been there a day.

Of course, Hawks is a vain piece of shit and does his own eyebrows, so he might have considered that yours were a piece of pride/insecurity for you and may have done them while you were—did Hawks do his own eyebrows? That spoiled fuck probably had someone else to do them for him. If they were naturally like that, you were going to throttle his ass.

You didn’t fucking have amnesia. Hawks is and always has been a stupid, clammy birdbrain. He’s always been cruel to you. He didn’t fucking like you.

He sure as hell wasn’t in fucking love with you.

Oh, my fuck, what if your memories of Hawks have been fabricated by a coma-addled mind and that—

“Hey, there,” said—said someone, some pale-ass, sleep-deprived freak who startled you out of your head, “Are you all right? You look—I mean, do you need some water? A chair?”

You blinked, yet he wouldn’t come into focus—you were taking in details about him, ones that didn’t fucking matter (chain on his wallet, three rings all on the left hand, a button-down missing the last button, a cloud of axe body spray), but he didn’t register as a human person. He couldn’t; you hadn’t grounded yourself yet. You yourself still had a frazzled, cartoon scribble buzzing inside of your chest, and until you vomited it up, a panic attack may yet still happen.

You can’t deal with anyone new right now.

A spark of recognition crossed the new guy’s face, and he, through a smirk, asked if you were your hero name.

Oh god oh fuck not now

“Sweetheart,” came Hawks’s melodious drawl (registering first his voice, then bodily warmth, then the wingtip covering your ass), “You were taking so long that I came to check on you.” He pulled you by the waist towards him, blocking the guy from seeing your face by pressing it into his chest. “Who’s this?”

Who cares. All you could focus on (sharp and overwhelming, nothing else but) was how fucking incredible Hawks smelled, and at this point, you’d use anything to bring yourself back down to earth. A small voice in the back of your head told you that freaking out to this degree in this particular situation was leaning towards pathetic, since basically nothing happened, besides being in an uncomfortable environment and being accosted by a fan at the wrong time, but you? You did not control the rate at which your brain panicked.

And really, no rhyme or reason played into why your grabby little hands itched for human contact once safe in the booth again, why Hawks’s scent lay on your tongue more heavily than your soup, why the overwhelming sensation of being so fucking spaced out of it threw its entire weight upon your shoulders—you couldn’t find yourself. You were lost.

And in this horrible, purple place, the only thing that’s familiar was Hawks.

When you scooted as closely as you could to him in the booth, keeping your glare towards your lap while you looped your arm under his to snuggle into it, Hawks cleared his throat to say, “What’s this?”

You scowled into his jacket, both hands gripping his forearm.

He set his chopsticks down. “How can I help, darling?”

Growling, you bonked your forehead against his shoulder, dragging your hands down to his.

“Hey,” said Hawks, and he guided your face towards his and stroked your cheek with his thumb, “Did that guy bother you too much before I got there?”

Turning your mouth towards the hand cupping your cheek, you kissed his palm, bit the leather, and kissed it again before burying yourself in his shoulder again.

He rested his hand on the crown of your head. “What’s the matter? Can you tell me?”

“Not sure I can put it into words,” you said, “I think I wanna go home.” You bit the fabric of his jacket and gnashed it between your teeth.

“I can handle that,” said Hawks, “Gimme a moment to get takeaway boxes, yeah? Then we’ll leave, and you’ll be safe. Don’t worry.”

Unfortunately, you were still clutching onto his arm by the time he unlocked his darkened penthouse (because you’re not gonna hold his hand. God), but you slapped his hand away from the light switches.

“Turning them on would be too much stimulation,” you said, “Please don’t.”

Hawks hummed against the top of your head, placing keys and both of your phones on the kitchen counter. “Bed or couch?”

“Window,” you said.

“Window?”

“I’m assuming you’ve got one.”

“I do,” said Hawks, guiding you through his dark apartment, probably past scarily expensive, posh shit. He led you to what was most likely his living room, with the cool, dim light of the night sky through a vast, single-frame, wall-to-floor window illuminating furniture custom built for his wings, but he eased you down onto the carpet, tugging your shirt upwards so that the window would be touching your bare skin on the small of your back.

Hawks yanked his boots off, late, instead of at the door, and he tossed them over his shoulder. He took yours off, too, and once he’d set them aside, he sat next to you against the window, a hand on your thigh.

“Better?”

“Probably,” you said, staring at the triangle of light beige carpet between your crossed legs.

“Need me to talk? You need to talk?”

“Not right now.”

Hawks was a dumbass. He’s such a fucking dumbass. But he’s a dumbass who’s here right now, and he’s interested (?) in you, interested in helping you. And good golly, you have to be touched. Hawks’s offering warmth, freely, potentially lovingly, and all you had to do was reach out to take it, even if you didn’t reciprocate whatever sentiment was motivating him yourself.

Do you really want to take what you have no feelings for?

Hawks lies a lot to Endeavor. To everyone. He might not have been lying earlier. What reason had he to lie?

Guess it didn’t matter, because you were lying.

But good God, you haven’t been kissed in a long time. Haven’t felt safe or loved. You could…you could indulge for a few hours in order to calm down. You could pretend.

The last ten months had proved that.

“Hey,” you said idly, reaching out to grab the inner fleece lining of his jacket to rub it between your fingers, “Hawks, I’m gonna—I’m gonna put my mouth on your mouth. Okay?”

Hawks’s wings ruffled and constricted themselves so that he could move closer to you, and his hand has migrated from your thigh to grip your hip—how could anyone’s hands encompass that much of you? Your fucking hands couldn’t, not in the way his does.

(Bird man big and safe.)

([No, fuck you, don’t think that.])

(BIRD MAN SAFE—)

Shoved is how you’d describe the first few seconds of the kiss, followed closely by wet and you’d think his teeth would be sharper. Your lips didn’t line up with his completely until he adjusted your chin with two of his fingers, guiding it open just barely, as well, so that his tongue could graze your teeth—it took you a moment of processing before parting them, with a final don’t think! shouted to your neocortex.

Birds have a higher body temperature than other animals, on average having a body temperature of 105 degrees Fahrenheit (40 degrees Celsius). The colour of their feathers, of course, affects how much light and heat they absorb, with the lighter coloured feathers—say, red—reflecting more, rejecting outside heat sources.

Yet Hawks gripped you like he’d fucking freeze if he weren’t clutching you, if he weren’t straddling your legs, one palm flat against the cool of the window by your head. The other snaked around you, his forearm lying almost vertically up your back to press down between your shoulder blades, keeping you as near to his chest (he probably didn’t realise it, but his fingers ran across the curve of your shoulder blades where his wings were on his own body.

For some reason, the thought crossed your mind that you weren’t enough for him, because you were too dissimilar.)

Don’t think!

When he massaged your tongue with his, applying pressure sporadically, you returned the action—have you ever seen a bird tongue up close? They’re fucking nasty little things, looking more like a grub than anything else. Thank God Hawks had a normal, human tongue that performed particularly delightful, normal things, like drag across the roof of your mouth and aid in sucking phenomenal hickeys onto your jawline, licking over where he’s bitten and kissed.

Stop thinking about bird anatomy. Hawks has no discernible bird traits except for his fucking wings. He’s not a fucking bird man. He’s just some dude with wings. And not all birds have functional wings; for example, the ostrich and the penguin do not have wings to be used in flight—

Oh, my fuck. Turn your brain off.

Your stomach lurched. That had been something Hawks had told you too often, back before your accident.

It’s what he wants.

Hawks fucking whimpered when you pulled the shorter hairs at the back of his neck, prying him away from your skin with great difficulty—he kept trying to touch you with his mouth and tongue in the process.

“Let me have more,” he said, panting, his breath heavy and just below your ear, “Please.” He pressed his lips to the spot in front of your ear in a weak kiss, having spent himself for the most part. “I’ve missed you so much, baby. I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me for so long.”

“I don’t—” You fake-stuttered, but it turned out you needed the time to put your thoughts into words. “I don’t think I’m back yet. I’m,” you said, taking as deep a breath as you could with Hawks smushed against your chest, “Something’s missing. Something big.” That’s right. Steer it back in his direction. Make the bird man sweat. “I don’t—something doesn’t feel right.”

It took a moment, but Hawks nodded fervently, shutting his eyes. “Of course. Yeah. Yeah, I get it, sweetheart. Can’t do anything when your heart’s not in it.”

Your heart’s not the problem. “Thank you for being so understanding, Hawks,” you said, untangling yourself from underneath him, “Would you just, uh, hold me for a while?”

His wings wrapped around the both of you on his enormous bed, still fluttering with each slow breath he took. Hawks almost looked genuine while he slept, and probably for the best—at least he was getting rest; at least his guard might be down.

You couldn’t sleep. Your mind was racing.

***

“Rank speculation is out,” you said, scrubbing the pumice stone over a patch of dry skin on Hawks’s back and scrolling through the twitter with your other hand, “Take a look.”

He opened the link you sent once he’d safely removed a dead feather that had been lodged in an odd spot in a wing. “Huh. Think I could truly take on Endeavor?”

“Well, he’s got that abusive-to-his-family thing, while you’re rocking the preparing-for-my-wedding look, and he can’t network non-aggressively to save his life.”

“Nor can you.” Hawks shot you a smirk over his shoulder.

“Zoom in on my speculated nine, baby,” you said, flicking away some dead skin with a satisfied/disgusted sneer, “And I didn’t have to sleep my way there.”

“Ah, ha, ha,” said Hawks, “Knew you could do it. Whoever’s told you that is gonna have to deal with my foot up their ass. You’re more than capable of getting there on your own.”

“Which I did. I have.” Wait. Hawks told you that. No, it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s a commonly said, misogynistic comment towards women heroes. Hawks isn’t special. “But having your foot up someone’s ass wouldn’t be good for PR, unless you wanted to advertise that you’re a kinky son of a bitch who’s cheating on his fiancée.”

“I would never,” said Hawks, and, contorting his arm, he grabbed your hand with the pumice stone to kiss the back of it, ��But my PR is solid, regardless.”

“If the public knew how much time you had to spend preening these fucking wings, they’d probably appreciate you more. Or call you conceited.”

Hawks hummed. “It’s a necessary evil,” he said, returning to his wingtip to search for dead feathers. “Thank you for helping.”

“No problem. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t get to see how—Hawks, holy fuck. Do you feel that?” You ran a finger near the base of a wing.

“It’s your finger?”

“No, this,” you said, tapping the spot.

“No?”

“My God. It’s a dilated pore of a winer,” you said, already reaching for the tweezers, “Right at the base of your wing. It’s basically an enormous fucking blackhead. I’m popping it. Oh, my God. I’ve never seen one in real life.”

“You’re popping it?”

“You didn’t have a problem with my getting the ones where your costume sits.”

“No,” said Hawks, rolling back his shoulders, his wings spreading with them, “Gotcha. Get on with it.”

“Can I film it?”

“What? No,” said Hawks, “No one can see me preening, let alone dealing with acne.”

“There’s sure to be another hero out there with a wing quirk, right? I don’t know how you can’t feel it.”

“Yeah,” Hawks said slowly, “Since my feathers can feel—I suppose where the wings merge with my skin is pretty numb. I haven’t ever had to think about it.” He licked his lips. “Funny.”

He continued to scroll through his feed and tend to his feathers while you worked at his back. “Bad news: the tabloids got a hold of our grocery list from the last time we went to the shops. I must have dropped it at some point in the store.”

“Oh, so do they know what kind of ice cream we prefer? The horror.”

“No, but they’ve brought in some hack handwriting analyst. Talking about our annotations for each other on the list. Something about how you’re logical and I’m a romantic. The writer of the article is practically swooning.” Hawks pulled out a clot of feathers with his teeth and spat them aside. “With good reason, though. The trashy pictures they snapped of us are hot.”

“Describe them to me.”

“I can show you—”

“No,” you said, concentrating on your work, “I don’t want the image imprinted on my brain. Describe them in your own words.”

“All right,” said Hawks, crossing his legs and placing his phone on the coffee table in front of him, “To start, the flash is on.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah. We’ve got that distantly surprised look going on. It looks like we’re near the eggs and cheese. You’re not looking at the camera, but I believe it’s in the moment I caught it.” Hawks flicked away a feather and let it fall to the carpet. “My hand’s on your waist. The other’s on the cart. You’ve scrunched your face up in concentration; it’s really cute.”

“Aw, we should get it framed,” you said, wiping away the gunk with a tissue and wadding it up so that no one will ever have to see or touch it ever again.

“Never,” said Hawks, “The first picture of us I wanna get framed should be on our wedding day.”

“It’s coming along quickly,” you said, setting aside the tweezers, “Bit more quickly than I’d thought it would.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait,” said Hawks with a light laugh, and you ducked to rest your head against his shoulder, straining your neck to reach him over his wing.

Hawks clicked his non-nasty, non-bird tongue. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Sighing, you said, “Turn your head this way.”

He did you one better, since he anticipated your plan. He twisted around, keeping his legs crossed as he pulled you into his lap. His wings initially bristled but wrapped around you when his arms did, and Hawks kissed your cheek, once, twice, until he arrived at your mouth, where he barely grazed your lips, rather letting his hot breath spread over your face—and he grinned up at you with half-lidded eyes (he’d left off his eyeliner today, but the natural marks below his waterline kept his eyes sharp, anyway).

“Kiss me, you fucking idiot,” you said, overriding whatever he was about to do by kissing him yourself, hard and open-mouthed, almost violent in its fervent. Yet Hawks held you lightly, delicately, but still close enough to freeze.

You ran your cold, cold hands over his bare abdomen, pressing your thumb down with considerable force to trace his muscles (he grunted at that, and that’s it; that’s right—make him squirm; make him sweat; make him yours). His finger only toyed with the hem of his shirt that you were wearing, as if waiting for you, which didn’t line up with what you had garnered about Hawks at all, but c’mon, man, come on; didn’t you want this all those months ago? Almost a year, now? Years, if what he said to Endeavor is true? But when he flinched away with a shaky breath once your cold fingers circled his nipple, you knew this was where you were supposed to be: right here, in Hawks’s lap, completely destroying him with hardly anything at all. Nothing but light touches and a strategic flick of your tongue. Idiot man. He must really like you if this is doing it for him.

You slowed and opened your eyes at that thought, frowning, and you pulled away. With the back of his hand, Hawks wiped saliva off of both of your mouths, yours first.

He waited for you.

“If you can’t take all of me, then what’s the point?”

He tilted his head. “I’ll take whatever part of you you’re willing to share.”

“I’m missing something.”

“I know.”

“I want to find it before we get married.” You laid your palm flat on his chest, and he grinned at the cold.

“You can find it,” he said, “I know you can.”

“I don’t know what I’m blocking out,” you said, lying—or maybe you weren’t? Fuck it. “Whatever I’m repressing is really fucking with me.”

“Take your time,” said Hawks, running his tongue over his lower lip. “I’m here for—”

“Hawks,” you said, faking the light of realisation in your eyes, accompanied with a sharp inhale, “I can’t remember your name.”

Hawks’s mouth snapped shut.

“You told me once. I know you did,” you said, moving to cup his cheek after tapping the mark underneath his eye, “but the memory—there’s a blur where you spoke. I—” You cut yourself off, biting your lip. “That, that might be it. I don’t know. Everything else about the scene is in perfect detail. I remember what fucking socks I was wearing, for Christ’s sake. But you. What you said. Maybe it’s something so personal, so intimate, that I’ve repressed it. Maybe it was too much for me to handle.” You cupped his face with both hands now, forcing him to look at you. If you hadn’t been scrutinising him for some evidence of breaking character, you wouldn’t’ve seen the minute quivering of his upper lip. Hardly there, but it was there. “It’s a part of you that I want. Even if I couldn’t handle it before, I want to try now.”

Hawks averted his gaze, even though he couldn’t move his head. And bang, you’ve got him. Hawks’s name was still strictly secret, hidden by the commission, but if he’s genuinely in this dumbass situation for the long haul, if he’s truly in it for you, then he would have told you. Even if he wanted you to continue to call him Hawks, your own fiancé would have told you his damn name.

So, this is it. The way out.

Hawks was going to feel so stupid when he found out you’ve been faking all this time. Good. Let each feather burn.

“Keigo,” he said, staring into your eyes with a newfound determination, “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Oh, shit—you clapped a hand over your heart, your eyes widening. Maybe you could play this off as memory recovery instead of absolute shock? But you hadn’t any memories to recover, probably. Holy fuck.

Where do you go from here?

You tried to say his name but ended up simply mouthing it, and after clearing your throat and coughing a bit, you managed to say it aloud. “Keigo,” you said softly, reaching for his hand, “Keigo, I fucking love you.”

You’d only been kissing him for a few moments before his wings shuddered in a muscle spasm and flung you off to the side.

***

Only a commission higher-up witnessed your wedding. She stood silently to the side the entire ceremony in the courthouse and only shook Hawks’s hand afterwards.

You and your cat essentially moved into his penthouse and adjusted. Your mostly empty apartment stayed leased under your name.

Sometimes, you’d note that you turned your brain off and instantly be hit with a lightning strike of self-loathing—but you didn’t have to consciously decide to be affectionate with Hawks. Being with him came naturally and easily. Probably for the best, since if you had to think about it, you’d screw it up.

You stayed together. Supported each other. Sneaked out to see the other on patrol. Took care, listened to each other. Defended each other. Worked it out.

And now, you stared up at the ceiling fan whirling in your darkened bedroom, Keigo lying on his stomach next to you in the bed as he slept. Your cat catloafed between his wings and nestled into them, rising and falling with each breath he took. Hawks was perfect, always saving the day, working up a routine to mesh with your fighting style and quirk, always charming and easygoing with the people he rescued, indulging you in your ferocity, and Keigo, Keigo whispered sweet and dirty things into your ear when he spotted you in public, made you laugh, worked wonders with his cock, helped you clean up before he even thought of preening himself, held you, and made you feel held. He’s got it bad.

And maybe you do, too.

Hawks was going to feel so stupid when he found out.

[10millionyearsdungeon]

Reminiscence - Second Tempo

A/N: So! Second Tempo is a continuation of the First Tempo posted here. Just like the last, it’s part of the Haikyuu! HQ Server Collab; check out the rest of the work on the flaming smut pile.  ===================================================

“Oi, it’s Ukai. Leave a message.” “Oh, Keishin…” Your body writhed against your fingers, phone pressed against your ear as another gasping moan ripped through you. The pads of your fingertips glided over your sensitive nub effortlessly as you grinned into the phone balanced between your shoulder and your ear. The game of cat and mouse had been going on for well over six months between yourself and Keishin; the ceaseless war of attrition had the teams and your students wondering who would break first. An international volleyball conference had you and the Karasuno girls’ team pulled away from Miyagi, from the handsome coach with those sharp, leering eyes.

“I know you’re away for training camp with the team…But I need you, Keishin.” Lust coated every syllable, each word dripping with desire as your fingers teased over your nipples and dripping folds. Another lascivious moan echoed into the receiver as you slipped a single dainty finger into your twitching hole. “I can’t seem to keep my hands off of myself…god, I wish it was your fingers slipping inside this tight, needy hole…” Sprawled out on your hotel room bed fresh from a shower, your wet hair plastered itself against your neck as you continued to rock into your own hand. 

He invaded your thoughts; like intrusive kudzu he wrapped himself around your senses even halfway across the world. Did he know how you had ruined two pairs of panties at the last voicemail he sent you before the girls’ last match that day? Did he realize how desperate you were to be home? Could he hear it in your voice? 

“Keishin,” you whined out, fingertip just brushing your g-spot. With a soft growl, you snatched your phone from your ear and put the device on speaker so you could angle yourself to reach deeper. With your body able to contort a little easier, the phone rested next to your flushing face against the pillowcase. Your body jolted into waves of pleasure as your legs tensed into your stroking. “Fuck, I can’t wait to come home, oh fuck, oh fuck, Keishin…”

The familiar stars dotted your vision as you bucked into your hand, clit rubbing fitfully into the meat of your delicate palm. You could almost see the flash of bleached-blond hair, the tanned skin stretched across those long, toned forearms. Painfully arching your wrist to drive your curling fingers into that familiar, soft spot you clenched tightly around your thin digits. You couldn’t fight the orgasm that threatened to overtake you quicker than anticipated. “Oh, fuck, Kei…Keishin!” Your words were gasping, breathless sounds, the same sounds he took pride in drawing out of you. 

“It should be your cock I’m cumming on. Why isn’t it your cock, Keishin? Fuck, I…” Another cry left you trembling as you came around your fingers. The ecstacy you felt solo was a pale shade of what you had grown used to with the snarky coach. You whimpered into the phone and shifted the sheets around you, arms hopelessly searching for him in the stark white abyss of your hollow afterglow. 

“I can’t wait to see you, Keishin…Until then,” you closed and hung up the phone. A small grin bloomed over your features as you came down from your brief high. The back and forth of phone tag and stolen video chats for the past week made you long for the thug-faced twenty-something coach fiercer than you could imagine. For the moment, the extra pillows in your bed would have to suffice as a sub-par substitute before you could nuzzle into the warmth and inhale the smoke and sweat from his skin again.

~

It was a long day of drills and penalties for the Karasuno Boys’ Volleyball Club at the joint training camp with Fukurodani and Nekoma. The boys continued to run themselves full tort against the other two teams, trying to refine and rebuild their skills on the court. Keishin found himself getting frustrated with the lack of progress the team was making, even considering the upperclassmen were bordering on complacency. Daichi assured him they were trying their best and maybe it was time for their coach to take a break. 

He ambled from the gym with a lazy kind of grace and fumbled for his cigarettes and phone from his pockets. His eyebrows shot up in surprise at the voicemail notification he saw across the screen. The tiniest of cocky grins stretched his mouth into a crooked curve as his thumb hovered over the play button. “Damn, must’ve just missed her,” he sighed, pressing play and holding the phone to his ear. The second your moan, your deliciously sinful voice graced his ears his face heated up and his ears flushed a deep red. Your voice went straight to the growing tent in his sweats, an ache he would be sure you repay you for in kind when you returned. The wailing fit on the other end was audible to passers by as the flustered coach turned the volume down with thick, numb thumbs. A dark-haired Fukurodani student passed by, green eyes narrowed at the coach’s flustered appearance and wordlessly made his way into the gym, no doubt to start another four-on-four match with the boys of Karasuno. At the end of your message, Keishin leaned into the brick of the gym and finally lit his cigarette. He took a long drag, longer than he would have normally if it wasn’t for your scintillating voicemail. Once his heart slowed, his thumbs furiously typed out a reply. K- You could have warned me, little girl. Y- And ruin the surprise? You liked it. :)

K- Time and place. Y- Is that all you have to say? :( This different timezone stuff is the worst, Keishin.

K- That’s something we can agree on. It’s just another day, right? Y- I’ll be home the day after tomorrow. Closing ceremonies run until tomorrow afternoon, but flight leaves a day after. K- Text me next time, little girl. And tell the girls to kick ass during their last exhibition match. Y- Does it make you mad that my team’s doing better than yours, Mr. Big Bad Daddy Crow? >:D

K- Just wait, little girl. You haven’t earned your wings yet. We’ll see how much fight you have in you with my hand around that pretty neck of yours and your lips wrapped around my cock. 

He chuckled darkly at the thought of your ruined face, chest heaving, gasping for oxygen as he held your lips against the hilt of his cock. He knew you well enough to know that your face would be about thirty shades redder than his was listening to your siren song after reading his message. God, you were never more beautiful to him than when you were sobbing out for release, begging for him to make you his. Fewer things kept him warmer at night when his wide palm wrapped around his cock than thoughts of you with that lewd, haunting passion playing in your eyes. When you didn’t reply, he shook his blond head and snuffed out his smoldering cigarette filter against the wall. Of course you’d have your fingers stuffing your cunt; it couldn’t compare to his touch. He adjusted his headband deftly and pocketed his phone again, only glancing down at his cock, half-mast for a moment before another distraction pulled him away from his thoughts. Two days were going to feel like an eternity. At least he had your voice in his pocket. 

~

You yawned as your girls took the court in their last match against the American team. The manager eyed you suspiciously as you blearily watched the game unfold. “Long night, Coach?” You nodded and hummed, rubbing your eyes. The boy stood a whole head taller than you, appraising your drowsy visage. “Must be hard being away from home.” “Mmmhm. It’s easy to miss home from so far away.” “I’m sure Coach Ukai feels the same way, Y/n.” “Toshi!” Your tone was scandalized in your chiding as the younger boy stifled a chuckle. “We should be focusing on the girls. How do you think they’ll do today?” He smiled, pride swelling as he watched his team warm up. “It’s been a long week.” “They’re tired, but they’ll push through. We’ve taken the W with less in the tank before.” It was your turn to feel proud of your girls. It was true– their rise to the top, for the acknowledgement that came with the invite to a tourney on the international stage was huge, even if it was just an exhibition tourney. There was something about the game that kept you grounded despite the tumultuous turns of your life. It brought you back to those long-thought forgotten memories, brought you closer to your high-school crush. Part of you was glad you took on coaching the counterpoint to the boys’ club; it brought meaning to your career to that point. “Michimiya! Remember, it’s supposed to be fun!” you called out to your team captain, Toshi nodding in agreement solemnly from the sidelines. Aihara, your ace nodded and gave a quick thumbs up before the ball went into play. Before the other team had a chance to receive the serve, your attention was pulled from the court to the vibrating phone in your tracksuit pocket. You had half a mind to silence it, leave it ignored and let it go to voicemail. Your attention should have been on your team, your girls, but… You pulled the phone from your pocket and bit your lip at the sight of his name reading across the screen. You excused yourself from the sidelines and made your way to the hallway leading to the locker room, bringing the device to your ear. “You were gonna keep me waiting, little girl? That’s no way to earn your wings,” his voice rasped out between hurried pants. “Oh, fuck…” Heat crept up your neck from your neat, white tracksuit jacket. Suddenly, everything was too hot. You worried your lip between your teeth and fought back a whimper as Keishin growled in your ear. You did some quick maths in your dazed state and gasped into your phone. “You should be asleep, Keishin! It’s nearly two in the morning…” “Couldn’t sleep, not when I had to get you back, naughty little girl. Did it feel good cumming on those fingers without me? Did it satisfy you knowing you were cumming without my permission? Was it worth it?” “I…” “Answer me, little girl,” he continued to groan, the sound of skin gliding across skin caressing your eardrums between his moans. You could practically feel his smug expression over the phone. The sinful breath on your ear had you wishing you could be there to watch, to touch him and run your fingers through his hair as he worked his cock in that large hand he loved to wrap around your blushing throat. “I’m waiting,” he teased. “It can’t compare,” you whispered, striding with hurried steps into the locker room. His voice frayed at the edges and had you practically dripping down your thighs under your track pants. The power his voice had over your body was undeniable. “I couldn’t help myself. I…” “Aw, poor little bird. At least you’re honest.” You tried to swallow around the lump in your throat at the nickname, but struggled. Mouth dry and thighs coated in your slick, you struggled to find your way back to reason, to the here and now. Half a world away, you sunk to the locker room bench and let out a shuddering sigh at the sound of the other coach’s debauched moans. He was close, that much you could tell. How long had he been stroking that thick cock? Was he imagining your lips cradling his glans, your saliva dripping down his balls? Could he see you dragging his head along your lips and your eyes peering up at him through a fringe of dark lashes? How many times did he listen to your voicemail before he thought to call you and dish out a dose of your own medicine? “Tell me you want me. Tell me you need me like I need you, little girl.” “I…I want you,” you whimpered, balancing your phone between your shoulder and your ear. You fumbled with your track pants and slid them hastily to your knees, your practiced fingers rubbing yourself through your soaked cotton panties. “Oh, Keishin, I need you.” You bit back a soft moan, still tender from your activities from the night prior. “That’s it, little bird. Don’t stifle yourself. Let me hear you. Where did that gorgeous voice go?” “I…Keishin, I’m at the tournament,” you gasped, that sensitive nub twitching with arousal under your busy fingertips. He let out a surprised grunt and you swore you could feel him double over on himself. “Fuck…fuck, Y/n, I never took you to be such an exhibitionist. My little bird’s getting brave on me, huh?” The sound of the door to the locker room opening made you freeze for a second before shuffling your pants back up your thighs. “Coach? Coach, are you okay? The other team’s called a time-out. Did you want to do a swap?” Toshi’s earnest voice echoed in the otherwise empty room as you struggled to get the words out without sounding like you were another second away from moaning like a porn star for the man on the other side of your call. “Answer him, little bird. Don’t stop touching that clit for me. Let’s see you earn those wings…” “Ah…yeah, have Watabe swap in. I…I need a minute. Must have been something I ate this morning.” Keishin grinned on the other end, still stroking himself languidly as he listened to you lie through your teeth to your team manager. When you heard him retreat back into the gym, you let out a shuddering sigh, your legs trembling around your hand. “Such a good little bird. I’m close. You gonna come with me?” You nodded as if he could see you, still focused on the sounds coming from your phone. His breath hitched as he choked on his moans, movement stilling on his end of the phone call. You gasped in tandem, fingertips slipping inside your waiting heat. He must have known you were close based on your breathing alone. He let you continue until he howled out his release, leaving you breathless at how completely beautiful he could sound coming undone at the thought of you. “Please, please, Keishin,” you huffed out, sweat trickled down your neck as you ground yourself into your fingers, stretching against your slick, velveteen walls. “Stop.” “But-” “I said stop, Y/n.” “But…but Keishin…” “Naughty little girls don’t get to cum when they’re bad. Mm, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck, Y/n,” he teased again before hanging up. You sat in silence, frustrated and slick with your own fluids. Aggravated, you pulled your pants up the rest of the way and stripped off your jacket. Approaching the sink, you patted cool water against your burning skin and stared yourself down in the mirror. So it was another challenge he wanted? You had him eating crow out of your beautifully manicured hands before and you could do it again. Your team wouldn’t be the only ones getting a win. A plan came together, neatly, quickly despite the lingering haze of lust. Spite and frustration cut through your need like a white hot razor, and all you could fixate on was the thrill of victory both on and off the court. “Setters aren’t the only big brains on the court,” you mused to yourself as you reappeared on the court, hands buried deeply into your pockets. Toshi cast a sidelong glance in your direction, subtly taking in the hard set of your jaw and the color rising in your cheeks as you stared down the opposing team’s coach from across the gym. You grit your teeth, eyes dark with determination. If he wasn’t mistaken, he almost thought you were taking this game more seriously than just a simple exhibition match. Regardless of the reason, the team manager found himself grateful he wasn’t the object of your ire. “Hit it ‘til it breaks, Sasaki!!” Your yell rattled the team manager as it echoed through the gym over the roar of the crowd. The puddle in your panties only fueled your frustration the longer you dwelled on Keishin’s denial. You wanted to breathe smoke, to destroy something beautiful just to prove you could. “Stupid, big-brain setter,” you growled under your breath as your team took another point from the Americans. “Coach, why do I get the feeling you aren’t talking about the other team?” “C’mon, girls, you’re better conditioned than that!! Go for the kill!!” “Yeah, you’re definitely not talking about the other team.” The conference couldn’t be done soon enough, and the next two days were going to feel like the longest of their lives. ~ Few things in life brought Keishin Ukai more solace than quiet mornings over a cup of coffee. The only thing that could have made it better was your groggy face smiling sleepily across the table at him. Sunlight bled through the kitchen blinds, staining everything in garish gold and yellow in the pale light. Hair loose, he carded his long fingers through his bedhead with casual grace and absently scrolled through his phone as the coffee continued to brew. It would be just a few hours before you would be home; he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t excited for your return. In the safety of his home, he could let some of that boyish glee bleed out as he searched through your old photos. As if he could forget your face, the sway of those devastating hips, or the way you’d catch your lower lip between your teeth when you were flustered. As much as he owned you, the power you held over him and his emotions was undeniable. From the moment you stepped foot on his court he was your willing captive. He set his phone aside to pour himself his first of what would be many cups of coffee. He allowed himself a moment to bask in the heady aroma, dark and bitter before it hit his tongue. Relaxing in his seat a little more, he sighed through his nose. The chiming of a text alert pulled him from his brief reprieve. Y- Good morning, Daddy Crow :D! We’ll be home in a few hours. I can’t wait to see you. Keishin chuckled into his steaming mug and took a long sip. Wryly amused and even a little annoyed by your pet name for him, he typed out his reply unhurried. K- We’ll see how tired you are when you get back. Ten hours and change is a long time to spend in the air.

Y- Don’t remind me. No idea what I’m going to do to stay occupied. 

K- I can think of a few distractions. 

He waited, watching the ellipsis flicker over the text banner for your reply, his heart rate picking up in anticipation. What fresh hell awaited him when you finally hit send? Vaguely he had an idea of how badly you wanted to get back at him for leaving you hanging during his last call, but you were too sweet, far too forgiving to want revenge. Y- I’m sure you can. What do you have lined up for today?

K- Not a thing. Just waiting on you. It wasn’t like you to not take his bait; he could practically feel the ice from your reply. Was it the distance? You were only gone for a week, but was it enough time for your relationship to cool? “Shit,” he muttered, rolling a cigarette between his fingers as he reread your reply another six times. “Guess she is mad…” He mused and fussed over your text before lighting the paper tip and taking a careless drag. The blue-gray haze hung around his kitchen like a comforting veil. He waited another moment before he saw you typing another response. He tore his gaze away from the device to ash his cigarette in an empty beer bottle he had sitting on the kitchen table; when he returned to it, the sight that met him had him melting in his chair. Your delicate frame was seated on a sea of white, the barest hint of emerald lace curling in elegant patterns along the swell of your ass. Hair pulled to one side in effortless waves of jet, your bare back was on full display, tantalizing him with the gentle curve of your spine and adorable dimples framing your tailbone. Your face in profile, he could see the faint rose dusting your cheeks and nose, the dreamy sparkle playing in your eyes as you held your breasts away from view. He knew that far-away gaze all too well– it played behind your eyes when you would look at him, when you would think about his strong hands exploring your body. His eyes lingered on the definition of your thighs, all the while longing he could feel them squeezing his head as you trembled into his waiting mouth. It wasn’t the lewdest photo he’d ever seen, but it hit differently when it was you. His mouth went dry and he felt himself get lost in every detail, as if he could memorize every scar, every freckle if he stared long enough. Y- Enjoy your distraction, Keishin.

When did you find the time to take photos? Was that the only one? Questions raced through his mind as he lingered on the picture, fingertip tracing along the swell of your hips. God, he was such a sucker for those wide hips and built thighs. He might have admired your drive and ability to keep up and run drills with your team, but he really wanted to see just how far he could push you until you broke.

“It’s just ten more hours. I can hold out for ten hours.” ~ Six months together and it took a week apart for him to salivate over the smell of your perfume. All the distance, despite the frequent calls and text messages, only intensified his undeniable thirst. You were his meet-cute, the high school crush who got away. There would always be that part of him that wondered how he got so lucky crossing your path not once but twice in his lifetime. If he were a betting man, he’d probably put more stock in fate or soulmates after meeting you, but it wasn’t his style to be so sentimental. Travel always took a lot out of you. Keishin caught you yawning on your way from the baggage claim, only aware enough to know where to step without tripping. Grinning like a fiend, he took his moment and pulled you into an empty lounge. Startled, you swung your first and jerked out of his hold, only stopping your thrashing when you caught the bemused twenty-something rubbing his stubbled jaw. “Fucking hell, is that anyway to say hello, little girl?” “Oh my god, Keishin!” Your hands flew to his face and he could have died a happy man on the spot. “I’m so sorry! You can’t just do that!” Your chest tightened at the rumbling chuckle that reverberated under your fingertips. “Keishin,” you sighed, holding his stubbled face in your thin hands. Studying the sharp planes of his face, your eyes practically sparkled with delight. He was here, real under your palms flashing that same cocksure grin that had you flustered since you first stepped up to challenge him on the court. “You gonna keep staring at me or what, little bird? C’mon, let’s ge-!” Rising to your toes, you pulled him to your lips and left him struggling to catch his breath, your perfume lingering after you withdrew and bounced away, tugging him along from the airport lobby. Head swimming, he followed, allowing you to lead him around until you remembered who drove and the simple fact that you had no idea where the car was. It was easy to forget you were an accomplished adult when you let your excitement take the wheel, but it brought Keishin closer to what might have been before you disappeared when you were still children. He never got the chance to watch you play back then, a regret he tucked away with the first night you murmured his name in your sleep. His single-minded ambition kept him from really seizing the chance to get to know you as a person instead of an idea back then. Packed away in his well-loved sedan, you couldn’t help but fidget in the passenger seat, anxiously bouncing your foot below the dash. Unfazed, he reached over and placed a hand on your knee, halting the bouncing movement with a stern glance. Color bloomed in your cheeks at the gesture, body relaxing just enough under the warmth of his palm. Braver still, he slowly ran his fingertips along the line of your thigh, stopping just below the clothed apex of your leg. Keishin never took his eyes off the road, but he knew just where to brush to make your blood sing. He followed your movements, subtly tracking your reactions to his innocent caressing. 

“Don’t get shy on me now, little bird.” 

The bait was set, almost painfully obvious as you continued to squirm into his waiting palm. “I’m not shy. I’m..”

“You’re what? Use your words,” he smirked, dragging his knuckles against your sex. The motion was so casual you might have applauded him for his audacity if it hadn’t been a week since you felt him touch you. Muddled between your jet lag and the growing haze of lust ensnaring your senses, you fumbled over your words and whimpered something about thinking about how much you missed him. “That’s what I thought.” Whether it was the nonchalance or the gentle pressure he exerted on your core, you felt yourself slip closer into that familiar euphoric headspace. It was almost embarrassing how wrapped around his finger he had you; it wouldn’t be long before he’d have you wrapped around him literally as well. 

~

You wanted to scream, to gnash your teeth and beat something to a bloody pulp. At least you could take out your frustrations on the court. The girls took the day to strength train in the school’s weight room, leaving you to your own devices in the second gym. You could see his almost-apologetic face, the slight upturn of his lips when he sent you to work with a chaste peck on your hair. 

“I just couldn’t bear to wake you…”

“Tch, likely story. Stupid, big-brain setter!” You hissed through your teeth and imagined it was his disembodied head you were spiking over the net with a satisfying crack. Your attentive team manager threw another ball and watched as you continued to fume. 

“Are you trying to pop a ball, sensei?" 

"Less talk, more throw, Toshi.” He shook his head and tossed another ball, only for you to bounce it off the floor twice to center yourself before your inevitable spike. Unsatisfied, you shook your ponytail and jogged to the opposite end of the gym to practice your jump serve. Toshi watched on, hanging his head as you sent another ball flying in his direction. “Jesus Christ, Himewari!” he screeched, ducking out of the way. You huffed in irritation, barely registering the clattering of gym doors opening. The ball rested daintily in your hand, your eyes narrowed with the smooth rubber leaving your palm before the inevitable punch. Keishin knew better than to leave the safety of the annex when you were serving, but he could watch you soar forever. Leaned against the cool wall, his headband gently digging into his scalp with his blond head resting into the drywall, he couldn’t help the crinkle of his eyes when your hand finally connected with the abused ball. Sweat glistened like diamond dust on your skin, the crop top you wore doing nothing to temper his wandering gaze. As you hung in the air, he hummed to himself, remembering Shimizu’s words when he first saw you serve. “You really do have wings, little bird…” When you landed and reached for another ball he made his presence known, his footsteps falling faintly over your light panting. This was how he liked you best, dark hair mussed and sweat dripping down the valley of your breasts. It was almost a shame, he thought to himself, that he wasn’t the one making you such a mess. He stopped just a few feet behind you only to catch the tail end of your cursing his name for leaving you high and dry on your return. As if sensing the change in the atmosphere, like catching the faint scent of ozone on the wind before a squall, Toshi took his leave and escaped into the weight room, leaving you alone with the other coach. Caught mid-approach, Keishin wrapped his arms around your smaller frame and buried his nose into your ponytail. You froze at the sudden intrusion of your personal space and the ball fell from your waiting palm, its fall echoing through the empty gym. “Thought I’d find you here,” he purred. Hackles raised, you pushed away from him and made a dash for your club jacket. Keishin used his height and longer legs to his advantage and followed close behind. If it was a chase you wanted, he’d give it to you. He let you sprint to the locker room, hand resting on the handle before he turned you by the shoulders and caged you against the wall between his arms. Looming over you, he smirked and licked his lips at the deepening flush creeping down your neck and across your collarbones. He smelled like tobacco and neroli, his cologne making your head spin. The smoke lingering on his breath had your thoughts racing– you were in high school again, fantasizing about being trapped in those arms with those sharp eyes drinking your timid expression so patiently. “What’s the matter, little girl?” he started smugly. His pupils dilated, leaning his head in to bear down on you further. “Can’t rise to the challenge? Where’d all that fight go?” Keishin licked his teeth and breathed into your ear. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you,” he teased, running his nose along your hairline. Your breath hitched; how did he always know how to make you feel so small? The thought incited more anger, more fuel to the fire burning in your belly as you jerked your ear away from his hot breath. “No, you don’t get to do that. I’m not going to let you win that easily, Keishin.” Your voice was low, almost dangerous. The animosity was one-sided, and the other coach snickered at your new-found boldness. “I don’t think you get it, little bird,” he growled, wrapping a firm hand around your thin neck. “I’ve already won.” Swallowing hard, you worried your lower lip between your teeth, his favorite tell, and stared him in the eye. The predatory gleam made you weak in the knees– he knew it. He could feel you falter under his capable palm as he gave your neck a gentle squeeze. Keishin loved seeing you like this– wrestling between reason and your desires, pinned beneath him with that fire burning behind your eyes as if to remind him that you only permitted his control because you knew how completely yours he really was. The nip of his teeth on your earlobe sent you reeling, swooning into his stubbled cheek. “Please,” you whispered. “Not here.” “No? You sure?” As if to capitalize on your wavering resolve, he raised a knee to rest just between your thighs, a silent dare to test him and see just how far he’d make you go. Instinctively, you ground your pelvis against his knee and shuddered at the delicious pressure on your core. He grinned against your cheek. “Because I think this is exactly where you want it.” Hips rocking, your anger slowly melted away as he continued to tease you, still pinning you to the door by the throat. “I think you like the idea of almost getting caught, little bird.” Your whimpers doused kerosine on the slow burning embers he stoked with his teasing. “Keishin,” you gasped, his free hand trailing down your sticky body to pull your hip hard into his waiting erection, grip hard enough you were sure you’d have bruises by the time he was done. “We don’t-” “Guess I’ll just have to cum inside you then.” Your thighs squeezed around his knee, cunt fluttering at the thought of your combined spend trickling down your thighs on the walk home. His grin was sinful, eyes sharp and hungry as you melted into his knee. He could feel your slick soaking through your shorts, the sensation earning a groan you just barely made out. “Mark you as my little crow inside and out,” he purred, long fingers feathering along the waistband of your shorts. “Yeah, I think you like that idea.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” You caught his gaze through your dark lashes, leaning into his hand and waiting hips as if to lay your own bait. Your own hands caught in his hair and pulled his headband down. How you loved running your fingers through those blond waves; you rolled your hips and gave his hair an experimental tug, earning a low groan in return. He surged forward and captured your lips, a fight for dominance to the end. Tongue tracing hungrily along the curl of your lips, he softened his hold on your neck and pulled you closer. Hand on your nape, he let out a hiss when you bit him, a flash of blood lingering on your lip in return with a satisfied grin. “Oh, cocky now?” Keishin gave your shorts a shove over your generous hips. Anxiety and excitement bubbled in your chest as you squirmed against him. He was still hard muscle and sinew despite years away from the court, more than enough to handle you at your worst. “Let’s see you be cocky now, little bird.” His fingers glided along your sopping cunt, earning a sharp moan at the sudden brush along your neglected clit. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Fuck,” he breathed, too enraptured by your responsive body. “Keishin, please,” you whimpered, clutching his shoulders as his deft fingers continued to tap and rub slow, agonizing circles around your glistening clit. “Please, please fill me…” “How quickly your resolve falls apart, my little crow,” he purred into your hair, fingers now sliding into your drooling pussy. You bit back another moan, head arching back into the door as Keishin scissored his fingers against your already fluttering walls. “You’re fucking drenched.” “Please, please…I need you. I need to feel you, Keishin.” Legs trembling, you rocked into his hand, keening at the pressure his hardened fingertips exerted on your g-spot. Even accidentally, he had a way of luring out the most beautifully debauched moans from you. He continued to work you open, trying to make up for a week without laying claim to you in the span of minutes. Keishin growled low, feeling himself get lost in your whining, in the warm squeeze of your welcoming cunt around his fingers, in how completely devoted he was to hearing you moan his name like that one more time. You heard the zip after you felt the lonesome ache of loss, only to be filled again to the hilt with a gasping cry. Keishin grit his teeth and leaned into your writhing frame, bracing himself against the door as you squeezed his cock from head to hilt like a velvet vice. “W-wrap your leg around my hip,” he ordered shakily, peering at you through a curtain of soft gold. You did as instructed and felt him wrap his arm around your back, pulling you closer as he rocked into your heat with a moan of his own. “So fucking tight, Y/n…” Stars faded throughout your vision and left you feeling dazed. “So good,” he moaned, resting his forehead against yours to glance down where your bodies connected. You balanced on your toes, meeting his thrusts with your own. “Keishin,” you cried in return, arching your back off the locker room door as your first climax claimed you. Keishin grit his teeth and fucked you through the first of many, angling his hips to drive his cock deeper still, earning a harsh shriek. “Keishin, don’t stop!” “Wasn’t planning on it,” he groaned, bottoming out with a stutter. “It’s like you were made for me.” You let out another cry, clinging to the coach as tears pricked your eyes. He rutted against your cervix with a pained grin, knowing the longer he pressured against that button the sooner you’d be begging to be filled and defiled. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he sighed, slowing as your walls clenched around his cock with the advent of another orgasm. You trembled helplessly against him, body practically weightless in his arms as he continued to prolong your pleasure if only to draw out his own. When you came down, you brushed your nose along his and gazed at him through half-lidded eyes. Toes curling in your trainers at the devastating sight in front of you, you gave another keening cry and buried your face into his shoulder. “Y’know, for someone so worried about being caught you sure are loud.” He grinned into your hair and hammered his hips into yours, earning another loud wail in protest and in pleasure. Your nails caught the tanned skin of his back, a vicious trail of red left in their wake as he brought you to another peak. “That’s three…” You bucked against him, fitfully chasing again after that same high only his cock could bring you. His name a prayer on your lips, he allowed you to take because you gave him so much in return. Every moan, every gush of your juices around his cock he took and devoured, knowing you wouldn’t be afraid to earn his end in return. “I can feel you twitching, Keishin. You’re close, Daddy Crow.” His hips stuttered as you whispered the pet name into his ear, holding you tightly as he bottomed out in your spasming cunt. “Hard not to when you’re fucking milking me.” He’d never admit it, but he would stay buried inside you forever if you’d let him. Only the unsynchronized whisper of your breathing and the slick slap of skin on skin surrounded the two of you in the empty gym. Entangled with the other coach in the darkened hallway, you found his lips to muffle another moan when your attention was pulled away from your bliss by the slamming of the gym doors. 

"Coach Himewari! We’re getting ready to go!” It was Michimiya your team captain. Her footfalls echoed softly, rubber tapping against the laminated wood. She paused for a moment when you didn’t answer. Keishin grinning sadistically against your lips, he held your hips flush against his, grinding his cock into that spot that frayed the edges of your vision and made your quiver around his girth. “Hm, I guess she already left…” the team captain mused before shuffling closer to the locker room door, only to quickly turn away at the opening of the door. 

“Come on, Yui! Let’s just go! Toshi can catch us up later.” Grateful for Aihara pulling her friend’s focus, you bit down on your lip to keep quiet. Keishin redoubled his efforts, dragging his teeth along the hollow of your neck. Even muffled your moans were music to his degenerate ears. You stiffened against him with the sinking of his teeth into your neck, a stifled cry and final squeeze signaling your end. Keishin wasn’t too far behind, growling into your salt-slicked skin. The heavy doors clattered shut as he moaned out his release, the heat building in your core as he spasmed into your waiting womb. 

“Fuck me, Keishin…” you breathed, half chuckling half panting. He held against you, comfortable in your combined heat as he peppered soothing kisses along your neck and into your hairline. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you like almost getting caught.”

He hissed, slowly withdrawing from your core and watched as his cum slowly started trickling from your pulsating hole down your sturdy thighs. He tucked himself back into his jeans and watched you languish against the wall for a moment, playful grin lighting his face. Deftly he collected the escaping seed and shoved it back into your abused cunt, earning a pained whimper before he pulled your panties and shorts back up to keep the rest from spilling. “Don’t waste it, little crow.” He wiggled his fingers along your lips and you greedily sucked them clean with wide, innocent eyes. Your combined taste coated your tongue, sweet and bitter all at once. “That’s my good girl,” he crooned, planting a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. 

Your anger evaporated, you slumped against him, head resting comfortably into his chest. “I’m ready for a nap, daddy crow…” you whined. Blond hair slicked with swear, he carded those long fingers through and hoisted you up onto his shoulder, carrying you out of the gym with your mess ruining your panties and shorts. 

“Oh no you don’t. As soon as we get home you’re making up for every voicemail and tantrum, Y/n.” It was going to be a long night. 

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

no kisses needed.

© @sonsofeorl

JOHNNY ‘COCO’ CRUZ.

MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @blowmymbackout: reader has a co-worker who just won't take the hint that reader isn't interested and has a bf she tells Coco he picks her up from work confronts the man. Coco is a lil jealous. Co-worker facetimes reader while coco has her in this position (sorry if that didn't make any sense)

❝ words: about 1.2k.

❝ warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, language, voyeurism (????), coco being a little possessive, mention of bodily fluids.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

You weren't expecting Coco to pick you up from work today, but you guess he has just done it to see who's the fucker trying to flirt with his girl. The guy is uglier than the back of a fridge, and he feels some comfort in it. But not enough to calm down his jealousy. He —better than anybody— knows that you don't care about a pretty face, you care about a beautiful heart, tho. His insecurities come afloat on your way back home, worrying you because he's more silent than ever, not even getting a response when you whisper in his ear how much you have missed him today after waking up alone.

Coming into your house with his face down, Coco leaves his kutte and both helmets on the coffee table, a second before falling onto your sofa. A leg over it, the other flexed to the floor. Your boyfriend looks at you, thoughtful and very concentrated on the way you have to remove your jacket and walk towards his position. You know exactly what's on his mind and that touches your soul. His demons eat him alive with no mercy. Kneeling a leg between his —placing your phone close to his black helmet—, you lean down with both hands on his chest for balance, landing your lips onto his left ear.

“Can you do something for me?” You hum with such a sweet tone, caressing his cheek with the tip of your nose. And you hear him swallowing slowly. “Fuck me, Coco. I need you so fuckin' much… You can't imagine… Can you do that for me, ah? Can you fuck me so hard I forgot my name but not who I belong to?”

He utters a feral snarl, noticing then that your right hand has made its way to his dick. You grip it over the rough fabric, swinging it with a tortuous pace, fixing your eyes on his. Coco is about to kiss you when you push him down using your left hand.

“I don't want your kisses now”. You whisper accommodating yourself over the delicious rock under his clothes. “I want your dick. I want you to fuck me till I have to beg you to stop”.

How does he manage to roll you down his body? You don't know. But the fact is that, in less than a second, you're lying on your stomach and your boyfriend is removing your sneakers and your jeans. He can't help but lick his lips keenly as he glances at the small spot darkening your panties, the evidence of how wet you are because of him.

“Fuck, ma'...”

Coco rips off the piece of clothing causing you to gasp, while you take off the shirt covering your torso, only leaving the blue bra you're wearing beneath it. He undoes it to throw it to the floor too, sliding an arm under your stomach to make you raise your ass. With his free hand, your boyfriend pulls down his jeans and boxers enough to let his hard cock spring free. He doesn't prepare you. Coco guides his glans to your folds to slam his thick length into your soaked cunt. You moan loud and clear his full name, as he settles his body between your spread legs.

Digging his fingers in your hips, aware that he probably will leave some marks there, he doesn't show any mercy. He hits your guts and your soul once and once with an insane pace that causes you to roll your eyes, nailing your hands on the armrest to find some equilibrium and receive every pound straight to your g-spot without falling over it. Coco is fucking you as hard as you have asked him, blanking your mind and making a mess of your vocals.

And he doesn't stop when your phone starts to ring. The name of your co-worker appearing on the screen. Your boyfriend has the brilliant idea of pulling your hair back by tangling his digits there, bringing his lips to your ear. His other hand grabs your device to put it at the height of your faces, sliding his thumb to answer the video call.

The first thing your partner can see is the pleasure gesture on yours, moaning and screaming Coco's name, not having noticed yet what he is doing until you hear your co-worker calling you.

“Tell him how good I fuck you, ma'”. Your boyfriend demands with such a throaty growl, thrusting his thick and hard length into you, impaling your body against the sofa.

“Shit…” You almost cry. “He fucks me so damn good”.

“That's it… Tell him… Tell him who you belong to”.

You know that he's enjoying it, but you can't answer when your partner hangs up the call. Coco can't help but laugh, tosing your phone to the table, to occupy his hand in a better place. Wrapping it around your throat, your boyfriend forces you to kneel on the cushions, sticking his chest to your back.

“Bet he won't forget”. He grunts into your ear, tilting your head to tuck his tongue within your mouth.

He drinks your pleas, your begs, your gaps, placing your fingers around his wrists, aware that you're not going to last much more because of what has just happened. And he feels it. He feels how your whole anatomy gets tensed with every push to your guts, creating an erotic melody of flesh against flesh. Pulling you down again and gripping your hips, Coco increases the pace of his lungs, giving you more pleasure than you can bear with, still enraged because of that shithead thinking he could have some kind of opportunity with you. You are his. Like your heart, your soul, your thoughts.

“Ah, fuck, baby”. You paint roaring, biting your lips until the metallic taste of blood floods your mouth.

The tickles in your lower belly grow by leaps and bounds, making your heart stop for a brief instant before the orgasm blows out all your senses and the electrical lash roams your back. It takes Coco only two slams more into your soaked pussy to cum inside you, filling you as much as he can press his body against yours. He doesn't feel jealous, nor angry anymore. He simply is too tired after that rough quickly, marking your skin wherever his teeth have reached it.

Loosening his grip bit by bit to pull his wet dick out from you, your boyfriend holds your phone again to take a picture of his warm seed spilling out from your abused lips. A piece of art under his dark eyes. Lying on your back and placing a smooth kiss on top of your head, he shows you the little mess he has done with a proud smile crossing his exhausted mouth.

“Was tha' what you wanted?”

“Uh-huh”. You whisper resting your cheek over your forearms, turning slightly at him. “Did you have fun, Coquito?”

“I always have fun ruining your sweet tight pussy, ma'. I don' even mind if that cabrón wanna come and look the next time”.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow @tenderclio @badame1240 @regalbanshee

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveeee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha @lucillewinchester @theocatkov @telfordlowmans

[fairy-seong]

kim youngbin x fem!reader

genre: smut, angst

warning(s): sexual content, swear words, unprotected sex, cheating, a messy af scenario i am sorry

song suggestion: blackbear - @ my worst (slowed & reverb)

“Say you don’t want me anymore and I’ll disappear.”

Your voice comes out more as a plead than you would have hoped; arms wrap around Youngbin’s neck, fingertips gently caressing his nape. You move a strand of hair from his face, trying to look him in the eyes. He is still avoiding your gaze, biting his inner cheek as your lips trace his jawline.

"It's not like that."

“It’s ok, Binnie, we both know it,” you show him a feeble smile in return for the way his right arm brought you closer by your waist. “We both know it.”

His heart beats a little faster when your kisses move down to his collarbones.

God, he wishes he had the guts to end it. He wishes he had the guts to stop sneaking out in the middle of the night just to turn your lonely sighs into lewd moans. But he can’t because shit, you look too beautiful when he is fucking into you from behind. Arched back and those parted lips purring out his name like he is the only one you need. Like your other lover did not exist. Like he will be the one to hold you in the morning.

“When will you break up with him?”

His voice is choked out, cursing in his mind for asking you about him for the fifth time that evening. He couldn’t help it.

Your kisses pause for a moment. You sigh, hugging him closer, your bare chest rubbing against his as you roll your hips over his own. He doesn’t fight it and bucks his hips up; his growing bulge sending a shot of pleasure down your spine.

“Is that the only thing that matters?”

“I...” he pauses, finally looking back into your eyes, “It’s just that you...”

He shakes his head, swallowing his words when your palm slides over his abdomen and into his boxers. Your hand wraps around his cock, thumb brushing over his already leaking tip as you free his erection.

“Tell me, you can tell me anything.”

He pushes your underwear to the side, staring at the way the soaked fabric stuck to your skin. You looked so pretty, he hated that someone else gets to see you like this as well.

“I want to be more than this to you,” he whispers against your lips while his digits get coated in you. “I don’t want to be just another name on the list of men you’ve fucked.”

Your head falls on his shoulders, tongue tracing the hickey you left earlier while the same fingers tease your slit.

“You are more,” you mumble between quick pecks on his skin. “You are my sweetest boy. You will never be just someone I fuck and forget,” your lips curve upwards.

"Then why the hell are you not mine?"

He lifts your hips, placing himself at your entrance. Your smile fades when he fills you up at once, his pace much rougher than usual. A sweet pain rushing down between your thighs as he reaches your sweet spot almost instantly.

His mouth crashes against yours, brows knit together as his teeth tug at your bottom lip. He sing-songs how you always look so beautiful naked on top of him; how he almost forgets he never gets to call you his when you moan his name like that. It really wasn't fair.

Your lipstick is all messed up now, just like his heart. He takes in all your cries as if they were his as he fucks into you continuously, his palms caressing every inch of your body, bringing you as close as he could.

"I don't want to let you go anymore," he mumbles while he takes a break from nipping at your skin to admire the crimson hickey on your chest.

"Fuck, that's off-limits" you almost yell noticing the mark on your boob "why would you do that to me?"

“You don’t know what you do to me,” Youngbin’s eyelids fall shut as he finds your lips again.

“I do,” you manage to reply breathlessly, holding onto his shoulders. You throw your head back when he finally allows you to ride him. “I know you lose sleep over me and I know you think about me all day long.”

He swallows hard while his mind tries to get lost in the pleasure and ignore every word you say. He did not want to hear it tonight.

“I know how bad I am for you. I’m terrible. I’m fucking you up each time.” You lean closer to his face.

You kiss him with a blank expression before continuing between shaky breaths.

“Why would you let me do that to you, Binnie? You’re too sweet for your own good.”

He closes his eyes, still trying to block every sound. You were right, but what can he do when you own every part of his body and his soul? When you are the only person he wants to be with; the only person he wants to hear moan his name as you are right now.

“Stop it,” he hisses, “shut up. Just shut the fuck up,” he lashed out at you gripping your hips too hard “I don’t care, I really don't fucking care.”

The tiny mewl he earns from you makes him search for your gaze before noticing the print he left on your hips. You open your mouth and Youngbin guesses it will be another empty apology, one that he truly does not want to hear right now. He just wants you.

His right arm cups your face, bringing you closer and forcing you to lean over him.

"I didn't mean to, Y/N."

He holds you gently now as he rocks himself in and out of your pussy. Your foreheads touch and his nose brushes against yours before you scrunch up mumbling how it tickles. His mouth hovers in front of yours; so close that you can feel his breath on your skin and his heart beat in the same rhythm as yours. His lips feel like feathers against yours and for a moment everything feels right.

Youngbin imagines you are his and that you will stay with him. And tomorrow morning, he will wake up before you, preparing coffee, and most likely burn the toast while you complain and pout so cutely. He imagines he is happy.

But Youngbin is not happy, and he bites his tongue so hard he can almost taste blood when your boyfriend’s name pops up on your phone. Would he know you are with him right now? That he always fucks you so good that you forget your own name?

Your hand reaches for your phone and Youngbin’s breath gets caught in his throat. Shit. He feels sick as he tries to stop you. His stomach turned upside down only thinking about hearing another man calling you baby and saying I love you on the other end.

“Don’t do that now, Y/N,” he cries “I’m so close.”

“I know you’ll never get used to this, but I have to.”

Youngbin mutters a “fuck him” as he pulls you in for another kiss. Your phone is ringing again and Youngbin grips the sheets until his knuckles turn white to make that stupid feeling go away. You were with him. Why did that matter? But it did and he does not even realize salty tears are pooling in the corner of his eyes at the image of you with someone else.

“Binnie,” you break the kiss, staring down into his eyes, “why do you let me break your heart each time?”

He bites his tongue again, a million things rushing through his mind and they all start with I love... but he cannot say it because you don't believe in love. You don't believe in anything besides the moments after midnight when you call him over and wait for him on the king-sized bed you will share with someone else the following morning. Instead, he responds to your question with a forced smile.

“Because I’d rather let you break my heart ten times more than fuck somebody else.”

[onewithnomightypowers]

Old Habits

pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader

summary: Old habits come back when you meet an ex lover after a long time. Conversations feel like you never stopped talking to them. Sometimes you have to see them one last time to say goodbye like you mean it but most of the time it doesn’t go as planned.

warning: drinking

words: 2.1k

a/n: could be read as part 2 of last kiss but is a stand alone. got a bit poetic at the end. hope you guys like it. and as always, love reading your opinions/reactions. also asks are open. (gif not mine)

masterlist 

'@tomholland2013 posted a story'

'@tomholland2013 posted a story'

 She picked up her phone to open Instagram. Yes, Y/N still had notifications on for his account even after they were broken up for months. Classic Tom. 

 He posted two of the same picture on his story. No one understood how that would happen almost every time, not even the people working at Instagram to whom they contacted about the glitch.

 Tom had his hair slicked back, standing in a white t-shirt next to Harry, his brother, giving a million-dollar smile. They were holding a clapperboard together. There was text on the picture too, 'day 1 let's go!!' She smiled to herself. Just because they weren't together doesn't mean that she wasn't allowed to feel happy for his achievements. Even though she wishes to know all these big things from Tom himself she is, unfortunately, left here, watching a small part of his life flash in front of her for less than thirty seconds.

 "Are you listening?" Hope, Y/N's date said.

 "Yeah, I'm sorry. You were saying?" Y/N placed the phone back where it was resting, next to the cold wine bottle.

 "You seem distant," they said.

 When she 'met' Hope (she only really met them 30 minutes ago), Y/N wasn't looking for love, just sex, and that is what online dating specializes in. She hoped Hope knew what they were signing up for, sexual intimacy and nothing else.

 "It doesn't matter does, does it? We both know what we are here for. Why not just cut the chase," Y/N replied.

--

It was early in the morning, the sun had yet to shine in its full glory. Y/N could only think of the first time she stayed over at Tom's old apartment but then she turned her head only to find Hope's naked body next to her. Her heartbeat accelerated with the realization that he was not hers anymore. Being in a foreign environment didn't help her growing anxiety, twisting and turning her intestines.

 It's been four months, her feelings for Tom refuse to quit on her because she knows she could never quit on them, on him, even if he has. He probably has already found someone else in Canada, she thought. She didn't want him anymore but she still needed him, one last time just to teach her stupid heart how to say goodbye.

 Y/N wore her clothes and picked up her shoes, going on a trail to find Hope's door to get out before they wake up. Climbing down the stairs, she took out her phone from the back pocket of her jeans.

 '5 new messages from Sam' 7 hours ago

Sam: hey

Sam: ik it's late

Sam: I am going for a run tmr morning @6

Sam: do you wanna come?

Sam: will go to the new coffee house near my house after that

 Y/N texted him back

Y/N: I'll meet you at the coffee place

Sam: come fast. already here

--

Sam and Y/N were standing in the queue to place their orders. “You look especially shitty today,” Sam said, running his right hand through his sweaty hair.

“I haven’t been home yet,” Y/N reasoned her appearance.

 His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. The person in front of them left the queue, they moved towards the counter. “One hazelnut latte, double shot with skimmed milk,” Y/N gave her order.

 “And you?” the cashier’s question directed to Sam.

 “I’ll have a matcha latte with oat milk”

 Sam turned to Y/N, “Harrison got me on matcha, and now I can’t go back to coffee”

 They paid their dues and moved over to the barista counter to collect their order.

 “So, what were you doing last night?” Sam inquired.

 “I was on a date, it isn't a big deal though. Just had some needs to take care of”

 “Oh, was it any good?”

 “It was fine. I was distracted the whole time. Saw Tom’s story about halfway into the bottle of merlot. Couldn’t stop thinking about him”

 “Seems…sad. But you know Tom is coming back for the Christmas weekend, I think. He might attend Harrison’s Christmas eve party”

 “One hazelnut latte and one matcha latte,” someone behind the counter screamed.

 “That’s us,” Sam raised his voice.

--

Harrison had a bucket inside his house, under a sign that said 'drop your tracking devices here' with an arrow pointing to the bucket. Y/N dropped her phone on a pile of roughly fourteen others. Debating whether to see Tom's face was something she wanted or not made her late and not very fashionably.

 The house was decorated with empty liquor bottles along with red and green streamers from one wall to another. Everyone was drunk in their best dress. There were no signs of Tom yet. Y/N took a deep breath, walking towards the kitchen to get herself some liquid courage to help her socialize.

 The kitchen was rather scarcely populated. Empty glasses were lined up next to the sink. Are they clean or used? Bending down, Y/N opened the refrigerator to see if Harrison had any chilled wine. No luck. "Hey," a familiar voice was heard.

 She looked up at the familiar stranger.

 "Hey Tom," she smiled. The refrigerator light falling on Y/N made her blush visible.

She grabbed a half-cut lemon placed in the egg tray.

 “How have you been?" Tom asked leaning back on the kitchen counter, observing her movements.

 Y/N walked towards the sink to grab herself a crystal glass hoping for it to be clean. "Just busy with work these days"

 "I heard you got a job at Condé Nast, is that true?" he took a sip from his beer.

 "Well, you heard right. You are looking at their new senior brand manager for digital", she said proudly.

 Tom hugged her from the side she was holding a knife to cut the lemon for her gin and tonic. "That's great darling! You always wanted to work there"

 Darling. The butterflies in her stomach were fluttering like the first time she met Tom.

 "I saw your story the other day. You started filming your script, right?" she dropped the lemon in the glass.  

 "Yup, it was a long time coming," he grabbed the knife she was using and washed it without even knowing. He was so used to Y/N never washing utensils after using them and, he would always have to clean up after her.

 "Congrats on that babe!" The word 'babe' just slipped out of practice.

 Y/N grabbed a Bombay Sapphire standing still on the marble slab. The blue of the bottle shinning even in the dim-lit room.

 "I missed you," Y/N made eye contact, screwing the cap back on. A long, silent pause.

 I miss you too, so very much

 She cleared her throat, "so, how long are you staying?"

 "Going back Monday morning"

 She opened a can of tonic water.

 "Are you seeing someone?" Tom asked.

 "Wouldn't you wanna know" a smirk on her face grew. "I've been out on few dates, nothing serious. What about you?"

 "Met this girl online, dated for a bit but, she wanted something I couldn't give to her"

 Y/N scoffed, "did she have a foot fetish or something?"

 "No, Y/N. She wanted love, not my feet" they both laughed.

 "On that topic..." Tom calmed himself, "...I was listening to this song a few weeks ago and, there was this line, 'the smell of your hair reminds me of her feet' and it made me think of you"

 "I reckon," she took a sip of her gin and tonic.

 "No, seriously, I really related to that line. No matter how many people I hook up with, it will be hard to find the type of intimacy I shared with you. I still relate to it"

 "I hate going on walks alone and having faceless dreams," Y/N blurted, lacking a proper reaction.

 "You're still the face of all my fantasies," Tom confessed.

 None of them knew what to say next. Anything they thought of saying now included walking over the blurry line of exes to lovers.

 "You look pretty"

 "Classic me, had a glow up after getting my heartbroken"

 "You always looked this pretty. You are beautiful," Tom assured her. The 'heartbroken part did not sit well with him. He already felt guilty for taking a job across the pond which was a great opportunity for him to grow but was only possible by severing his ties with Y/N.  

 --

It had just started snowing on Boxing Day. Tom was alone in his cold home, boiling a pot of ramen noodles. He took out his phone and snapped a picture of the burning stove with the pot on top.

Tom: *attached photo*

Tom: I come back after months and my family leaves me alone with no food

Y/N: you should add a poached egg

Tom: Thanks. I shall.

Tom: I think I made too much ramen for me

Tom: do you wanna come over and share?

 Her indecision was visible by the coming and going of the gray dots. Then finally, Tom could tame his anxiety by her simple reply.

 Y/N: sure.

--

There was a loud knock on the door. Tom put two bowls of hot ramen on the dining table and went to open the door. Behind the door, Y/N was standing with her hands inside her brown checker coat. There was dust of snow sitting on her shoulders. Her braided hair was made by the most anxious hands in town.

 The door opened and, Tom’s hands flew to take Y/N in his arms. They hugged like little kids hug their parents after being away from each other, for them, an eternity. It did feel like an eternity to them too but, they hadn’t forgotten each other’s touch.

 “I parked my car at the church, couldn’t find any spot here ‘cause of the snow," she pulled out.

 “The snow seems to be gaining momentum.”

 Y/N hummed in agreement. She took off her coat and hung it in the Holland’s coat closet.

 “Come on, the ramen is getting cold,” she followed tom into the kitchen.

 They sat adjacent on the wooden table in comfortable silence. Tom used chopsticks and, Y/N used a fork. Only the occasional noodles falling in the broth were heard, along with the gushing of wind.

 “It’s really spicy for me,” Tom said.

 “Yeah, I can see your ears turning red.”

She still remembers 

 Y/N raised her hand to cover her mouth while yawning.

 “Since you made the food, I’ll do the dishes,” she got up, grabbed their bowls, and walked over to the sink.

 Wearing the gloves, she turned to Tom, “it was quite tasty”.

 Tom gave her a smile.

 She spread the soap on the dishes and turned the tap on. Tom pushed his chair back to get up.

 “Have you made any friends at your new job,” he jumped and sat on the counter next to Y/N.

 “Yeah, sort of. Kyara works there too so, I have just made her friends my friends,” she washed his chopsticks.

 “That’s good. Have you talked to Emily after the wedding? She told me they are planning on adopting.”

 “They invited me over for dinner when they got the approval from the agency. Kyara made this amazing Hyderabadi biryani, it was her mum’s recipe so, it was obviously better than the restaurant”

 “God! You and your love for Indian food”

 Y/N removed her gloves, “I should go. Thanks for the ramen, by the way”

 “Are you sure you can go out in this weather?”

 “Yeah I think," she started walking out of the kitchen.

 Tom grabbed her hand. “Stay”, his voice was like cotton.

 Y/N turned and made contact with his pleading eyes. She moved closer to him. “Please”, he said. They both were inching in to lock their desperate lips.

--

Y/N did not notice when she had fallen asleep talking to Tom. Their naked bodies were covered by the white comforter. Her eyes slowly opened to a boy with brown eyes and messy hair looking at her.

 “I like it when you sleep. I love watching you sleep”

 She chuckled. “That’s a bit creepy, don’t you think?” She had a sleepy voice.

 “You look so serene, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I could stare at you for eons”

 “But love, I'm only here till the snow settles,” she caressed his cheeks.

“Then the cold shall frost our limbs," he leaned in to kiss her.

tags: @elios-timotea​