#People try to give you shit? Tell them to shove it up their ass

[quinnick]

The more you learn about gender, the more you realize you can make up whatever the fuck you want. Oh, you like cat aesthetics? Mew/mewself or even just they/them or it/its or whatever. Oh, you are a cis woman but use it/ze/they pronouns? Awesome ! Trans guy but you use they/her pronouns? You are the coolest person alive. Trans man who wears skirts or a trans woman with a beard? Umm, yes pls !! You are actually legally allowed to commit crimes if you are that cool. Hyper fem and hyper masc nonbinary people???? Coolest people around. Basically, stop being an asshole. Gender isn't real and people can do whatever the fuck they want

[uravichii]

pov: you're drop-dead gorgeous (and they don't know how to deal with it)

character/s: bakugo katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, kaminari denki, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff, crack (?), them hyping u up like there's no tomorrow, uhh reader wears makeup 🤕

notes: this is for all u pretty mfs aka all of u whether u believe it or not YOU ARE PRETTY AMD HOT AND AMAZING 😡‼️ also disclaimer: the boys love u not just for your face. they think you're so cool for being beautiful inside n out and this is just them appreciating the out 🧎‍♀️

bakugo katsuki thinks you're so pretty that his only response to it is to be angry. he'd watch intently the way you'd smooth your clothes down and cutely fiddle with your hair in the mirror as if there's even anything to fix. he'll cup your pretty face in his hands and squeeze your cheeks together (cuteness aggression probably), "tell me why you're so fucking pretty all the time? what are you so pretty for, huh?!"

bakugo katsuki would always watch you do your makeup and hair and then slip into the prettiest clothes only you can pull off and he's just mesmerized by the whole thing.

"katsuki, please stop drooling and get dressed. we're gonna be late."

his only response is: "fuck off."

because he can never deny nor hide the fact that he constantly admires you every chance he gets. he storms his way to you and snatches a shimmery eyeshadow from your makeup bag. "tch, you don't even need any of this shit."

"you don't like it, katsuki?" you stare up at him doe-eyed, easily making his heart skip a beat.

"h-hah?! i didn't say that!" he shoves it to your hand, "now do this glittery shit next!"

and you just ditch whatever plans you'd made and spend the rest of the night trying on different makeup looks. he'll insist that you sit on his lap while you doll yourself up just because, and you gladly do so but then you both end up wearing a full face of glam makeup 🧍‍♀️ he doesn't know how he just let it happen but he's like, "whatever makes you fucking happy, y/n."

he then proceeds to tell you that, "every one of those ugly extras should grovel at your feet, worship the ground you walk on, and then beg for your forgiveness."

"forgive them for what?"

he stares blankly at you. "for breathing the same air as you."

bakugo katsuki's not active on social media at all but on his instagram, his first and only post is a photo dump of just youー the selfies you took on his phone, your date outfits, candid photos (by courtesy of bakugo katsuki) of you smiling at a stray cat, the power nap you took on his shoulder, and his favorite one by far: a photo of you wearing his black tank top that completely swallows you up, holding up two little peace signs on your cheeks.

and of course, he captions it, "u and ur ugly ass wish u were y/n."

shinsou hitoshi is convinced he's dating a model. he doesn't know how it happened, but he is a little proud of whatever the hell was in him that managed to rizz you up.

he thinks you look amazing in absolutely anything. so when you go clothes shopping together, he casually picks up all types of clothes from the racks until there's a whole pile of them in his arms.

when you shoot him a questioning look about it, he only says, "think you'll look amazing in these, babe."

he also picks up some accessories and just wears them on youー hats, sunglasses, hair pins, and you just let him because each time you let him accessorize you, he gives those little comments like, "amazing." "cute" "this one's tacky; i put it on you as a joke but you pull it off for some reason." "yes. slayed." he made you wear cat ears one time and he just melts right there, immediately taking a photo of you for his new lockscreen.

it bothers shinsou hitoshi a lot when people stare at you even when they can clearly see his hand on the small of your back. he'll slide closer to you and kiss the top of your head all the while he gives them a death stare he wishes he could do more.

he squeezes your waist a little to call your attention.

"hm? what's up, hitoshi?"

he looks at you blankly, taking in your features in awe as if for the first time again. then he stuffs your face into his chest, your legs staggering as you grab a hold of his forearms.

"hey, what are you doing?" you giggle in his chest. he's relieved you can't see his flushed cheeks. "hitoshiii"

"you're too good for this world, y/n. i need to start gatekeeping you."

what blows shinsou hitoshi's mind the most is how you're probably unaware of your effect on him, no matter how many times he's called you all synonyms of the word, 'beautiful'

he's sat on the couch, a tiny smile of adoration tugging on his lips when he sees you running up to him. your eyes brim with excitement as you call his name, truly the prettiest ones he's ever seen.

"something happened?ー" he pauses when you lean your face so close to his. he sinks back into the couch as the tips of ears start to turn red.

it takes a moment until he realizes that you're showing off the purple eyeshadow you had done on yourself, batting your eyelashes at him as you wait for his response bc right now he's just staring at you like 😦💘‼️‼️‼️

"it's the one you picked out from the mall yesterday. is it pretty?"

"y/n." his hands slowly find their way to your waist, "i don't believe you're real sometimes. you are possibly the most beautiful person i've ever seen."

"really?"

"god," he pulls you by the waist until you're sat on his lap, your legs straddling him. "you have no idea."

remember how bakugo said all those extras should be groveling at your feet and worshipping you? yeah, it's kaminari denki. he worships you.

he thinks you're beautiful and he's LOUD about it.

he's constantly bragging about you to his friends and showing off your photos (if you're comfy w/ that), "oh this? oh yeah, this is is y/n, the coolest, funniest, drop dead gorgeous, most ethereal person on earth and they're dating ME."

and bakugo would just grab his phone and knock it against his head with a thud 🤕, "WE FUCKING GET IT. NOW, SHUT UP, DUMBASS."

he'll rub his head while cackling, "whatever, i'm dating Y/N. who cares about anything if you're dating y/n?"

kaminari denki doesn't love you just for your beauty though. you're not just some eye candy to him. if someone ever called you one though, you bet he's zapping their ass and with the whole bakusquad by his side because somehow they feel obligated to protect you now too. 🧍‍♀️ (denki's effect)

and just as much as he compliments your beauty everyday, he never forgets to let you know how beautiful your heart is too. in fact, he calls you 'angel' because how could someone be this beautiful and be so kind and caring to him at the same time?

"sometimes.." he looks up pensively from his lap where you lay your head, "i feel like i've been blessed by the heavens when i got to date you.

"denkiー"

"don't even think i'm exaggerating, y/n!" he pokes your cheek when you turn your head to look at him, "you're amazing. i don't know what i did for you to give me a chance."

there are times though when a part of kaminari denki feels a little insecure because he thinks he looks quite stupid next to you, and it doesn't help either that the bakusquad never lets him hear the end of it 😔

"denki, you don't look stupid because you're next to me. you do that on your own."

"aww, thank yー hol' up." 🤨

he's pouting but you immediately wipe that off by apologizing and peppering his face with kisses, ending it with a loud smooch on his lips with a "mmmwah!"

kaminari denki now can't remember what you're even apologizing for in the first place.

you and todoroki shouto are so beautiful, the visuals are blinding 😩 you'd walk to your classroom together, him opening the door for you and you smiling at him, lovingly squeezing his arm as a silent 'thank you,' and people just stare with their mouths agape, not knowing who exactly to be jealous of.

shouto definitely stares the most though until it concerns midoriya, "t-todoroki-kun, you haven't moved in three minutes. are you okay?" because he might as well have drawn hearts on his eyes and stab an arrow to his heart with the way he looks at you.

todoroki shouto always kisses your eyes, nose, cheeks, hair, and your lips, of course, just to let you know how beautiful he thinks they are.

he thinks whatever you do or wear is so pretty, hence, the many, many photos of you on his phone. his lockscreen changes every 2 days because everyday he just gets a prettier shot of you, and he always shows them to you and to his friends and siblings ☹️ because everyone, including you, should appreciate what a beauty you are!

"this looks great! you'd make a great photographer, shouto" you lean in to kiss his cheek, immediately sending a flush across his face.

"well..." he looks to the ground, the feeling of your lips still lingering on his right cheek. "that's all you... you're beautiful. i don't know how it has anything to do with me, but thank you."

and then he leans closer, tilting his head to the side to silently ask for another kiss. you laugh softly at this, and when you cup his cheeks in your hands and start planting kisses all over his face the way he does to you, shouto confirms it in his mindー y/n is an angel.

todoroki shouto would get a little overboard with the photos though because he'll spam that button and keep every single one. when you ask why keep the blurry ones, he explains, "that's still a photo of you. why would i delete it?"

he also has a photo of his point of view from when he had his head on your lap. he said he wanted to capture "the happiest moment of his life." you convince yourself it's sweet but it's literally just a photo of your chin in a weird angle.

"shouto, that's just my chin."

he looks at you dead in the eye. "y/n, you have a lovely chin."

you call him a weirdo, which surprises him a little, but then you drape your arms around his neck and pepper kisses all over his face again because who else in the world would say that to you?

[chxrryhansen]

4.   rafe finding reader's toys she has and using them all on her at once because his ego is all like “I’m not good enough or something? Fine!”

-💎

i’m so sorry i literally just realised you asked for him to use them all on her after, i didn’t see it until i was just about to post, sorry if i disappointed <3

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

you stood from the couch in shock as rafe burst through the living room door, his messy bangs sticking to his forehead and his face red with fury and a medium size box in his hands, the rage in his eyes clear.

“rafe wha-“

he threw the box into your lap, his hands settling on his hips as he stared you down with his dark blues.

“what. the. fuck. is. this?” his tone calmer than usual which immediately put you on edge, and causing an eery feeling to rise in your stomach.

looking down at the box you stilled, a bright pink 7 inch dildo staring straight back at you, along side your pretty purple vibrator. swallowing heavily you looked up at him through your lashes, rafe sneered.

“what the fuck is this shit huh? what yo-you think that im not good enough or somethn’ ? hiding that shit from me, did you really think i wouldn’t find out? huh? you thought that i- that i wouldn’t find out that my own girlfriends a-a needy fuckin’ cock whore?”

his anger was visible through his clenched fists as he rambled, pacing back and forth in-front of you.

“rafe i-i swear i haven’t used them since i met you, i don’t even need them anymo-”

he scoffed, throwing his hands in the air in mock understanding before swiftly moving to grip your jaw in a tight grip. you hated when he got like this, when his jealousy and insecurity took over there was no grounding rafe cameron. you should’ve known there was no point in trying to argue with him, he always wins. every single time.

“you’re a fuckin’ liar. you’re a lying fuckin’ whore. this dick not good enough for you, hmm? i’ll fuckin’ show you.” he murmured. you held his hand in your own, planting your feet and making a move to stand on shaky legs.

not on his watch.

rafe gripped your shoulders, roughly throwing you back down onto the couch, face down, before pulling up your skirt and tearing your panties in half. you keened, gasping at the sensation of cool air hitting your bare cunt.

your gasp quickly turned to a scream as rafe pummelled his cock into your pussy, no warning, no preparation, nothing. with one thrust he was balls deep, bottoming out into your cervix and sending tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. “fuck rafe!” you cried, the pain overwhelming.

he didn’t care. in his mind you deserved it. i mean, how dare you use his hole without permission? thoughtlessly shoving another cock in his cunt.

“shut the fuck up, you dumb bitch. i really gotta’ teach you the basics all over again, huh? this is my pussy, y’hear me? mine. say it, tell me who’s pussy this is.” he growled, his hips slamming into your plump ass from behind, the sound of skin clapping filling the room, his thick hand wrapped around your hair and tugging roughly.

“yours! it’s your pussy. i’m sorry, daddy. i’m so s-” you wailed into the cushion as rafe pushed your head back down into the couch.

“damn right it is, and did i give you permission to put some other cock in my pussy? caus’ i swear i didn’t.” he laughed manically, drowning out your cries. his thrusts becoming heavier, his thick length driving into your cervix with every pump.

“didn’t your ma ever tell you not to touch other peoples toys?”

[diorcities]

⠀   ⠀ ── 𖥻 🍊‧₊˚⊹ about being caught having sex !

nct dream headcanon.

warning: smut.

masterlist

after the dance practice, mark is so euphoric that he takes you in front of the mirror. his left arm wrapped around your chest so he can hold you close, while his free hand rest on your hip to keep both of you steady. he's so thrilled by it that he only lowered his pants to the height of the pelvis enough to reveal his erection. your jeans are removed to the knees by his eager fingers before he shoves his cock into you and sighs in relief, moving his hand to your belly, feeling the small bulge he makes every time his dick is buried inside you.

“f-fuck,” he breathes, speeding up, 'cause he's so scared someone would come in and see you both like that. however, just thinking about it makes him more excited, although he'll never tell you that. you try your best to not moan at the top of your lungs just by the way he's fucking you, so hard and sharp that your legs and stomach vibrate, both getting frustrated because of the fear someone can come in any second and so the moment is not pleasurable anymore and ends up with both of you having a quicky and wanting to cum already. soon or later he'll find out that the practice room has cameras.

doing watercolors with renjun but in the middle of it you suggest being painted nude. what started as a joke ended up with renjun's eyes glancing at your body as he bites his lip in concentration. the dim light, the soft music; everything connects to leave a calm and comfortable atmosphere. so he draws you, smearing his fingers with pastel colors because he wants it to be just as perfect as you and at the same time can't concentrate with you looking like that. so eventually he just blurbs out “god, let me fuck you, please.” and it's all you ever wanted from the beginning.

so he fucks you there. in his bedroom floor, rough and needy. precum beads already on his slit. pastel colors are smudged wherever he touches, lips parted open in a silent moan because there are people in the room next door. trying to be quiet but that is complicated due to renjun's pants and hisses. he's pounding you at a speedy pace while rubbing your clit, trying so hard to cum quickly so you don't get caught. he almost gets away with it, if it wasn't for the last groan that left his lips that exposed them both. the moment he realizes what he's done, he cums so hard, that his legs would be shaking after the aftermath.

jeno is so fucking eager that doesn't even wait for you to spread on the bed and takes you right there where you're standing. pinning you against the wall with a strong hip on your waist that more surely will leave bruises, he plows his cock in and out with slow yet powerful thrusts. there's nothing you can hold onto so he whispers “on me, baby.” legs go numb that at one point the only reason you're standing on your feet is because of his firm hold on your waist as he smacks the shit out of you. you can't help but whine and moan as your nails bury in his arms.

honestly, if your moans don't give away that you're fucking, his groans will. jeno's so pussy drunk that he's hissing and whining because you feel so good, taking his cock so well. “so fucking tight, wrapping my cock so nicely.” he's so amazed by your grip and the way you stretch so well every time he fucks you. he won't be mad if someone hears you both, that way they'll know how good he makes you feel, and how good you fuck him.

haechan doesn't even care that johnny is in the room with you. he lays down behind you and without warning, tosses your pajama shorts, exposing your buttocks. he uses his hand to spread your ass while the other guide his length into you, squeezing his eyes when he feels your pussy already lubricated with your arousal. the compromised position doesn't allow you to go crazy, so he fucks you with slow-paced thrust, almost just wagging his hips in and out. the position makes the penetration pleasurable due to your legs pressed together which causes your pussy to narrow around his length.

a sudden movement causes both of you to freeze, watching johnny stir in his sleep. and suddenly, haechan's enthusiasm would vanish now that you almost got caught. however, you don't give up and begin to rock your hips into his, being a little more careful.

having a makeout session on his bed lead jaemin to fuck the shit out of you against the mattress, hands reaching the sheets while he crushes his hips harder and rougher. no sound comes out of his mouth other than small exhalations and sighs, and your moans, suffocated by the pillows.

stopping from time to time when he feels dizzy or about to come. hands reaching the headboard so it stops hitting the wall, not caring that much if someone's hearing because he's drunk and high on pleasure and it seems a problem for the future, so he goes back again.

you're washing your hair when chenle pins you against the tile wall. a small yelp falling from your lips from the surprise of his sudden move. furrowing your brows as you try to understand the situation, no longer unknown when he presses his tip at your entrance, leaving you to adjust around him and beginning to penetrate you calm and steady, switching the pace once you start to lubricate his dick with your excitement.

he doesn't give a shit, not suppressing his throaty whimpers and moans, that he suffocates sometimes in your shoulder and goes back again, getting louder and louder because the idea of being caught makes his dick ache, thrusting you harder so the smashing sounds of your wet pussy echo.

jisung is so scared that he suggests doing it in the recording room once everyone has left. taking you to the room where they record the songs so that the sounds cannot come out and can be heard. once one of your (his) worries has been resolved, the boy fucks you relentlessly. bending you over the glass so he can have a view of the door and also your features contracted in pleasure through the reflection. going insane and not containing any groans or grunts as he pounds into you.

he's a bit of a freak, so his hands would be constantly spanking you and choking you. “o-oh, shit.” hissing and groaning, eyes tightly close due to the adrenaline and sensation of the moment. “o—oh, god.” his elongated moans die out between the four walls, which leads him to be quite vocal as he plows you without compassion until you come, one, two, three times and your legs feels like jelly.

[dotster001]

Hear me out here: The reader gives the basketball club boys a kiss on the cheek after they win a game. That's it. Go crazy. Go stupid

A/N: I was told to go stupid. Hopefully, this is stupid enough 😁

3k followers masterlist

It's the whole reason he invited you. He knew the coach would be playing him today, and he was  certain that if he showed off his top tier skills, you wouldn't be able to help yourself! You'd be completely seduced by him.

He even took off his shirt at halftime, pretending he was trying to cool off, and dried off his (fake) sweat, slowly, with a towel. He asked Jamil to tell him when you were looking, but Jamil just told him he was being a dumbass, so he had to pay attention himself.

When the game was over, the NRC student section rushed the court, and you ran over to him with a grin. He greeted you with his own cocky smile, asking if you enjoyed yourself.

You told him he did amazing! And then came what he was waiting for. The congratulatory kiss on the cheek. He pretends he was flustered, but as I said, he planned this. He was really hoping you would kiss him on the lips, but beggars can't be choosers.

Next time though….ooh…next time he'll get a real kiss, whatever it takes!

Didn't even know you were coming. Your presence was a present from Kalim. he didn't even notice you until the final shot of the game, and then realized you just watched him dominate the court, not a speck of mercy in his eyes.

He's worried. Even though he's allowed to be his own person now, he isn't used to people seeing him being anything other than average. He wasn't ready for you to see him with bloodlust in his eyes, as he completely dominated the other team.

He's bashful when he finds you waiting for him outside the locker room. Tries to play it cool. He has to gauge how you felt about his actions.

He quickly realizes that your reactions are favorable. You seem bashful, but excited. He can tell. You liked what you saw .

So he grins that smug ass grin of his, and decides to be a shit and tease you. Only for it to backfire when you fight back with your own teasing

If he wasn't flustered already, he is now that you just pressed a kiss to his cheek. His jaw drops, and his gut is telling him to snake whisper the memories out of your mind. He wasn't ready. It's not fair. He planned so carefully how he would woo you, and now it's all ruined.

He won't snake whisper the memories away, but his hand will gently touch the spot your lips met his skin, as he watches you walk away. He'll smile softly, until Kalim finds him and asks if he did a good job by inviting you!

Invited you, then totally forgot about it. He fell into one of his moods an hour before the game, and was taking a nap on the bench.

Until half time…when he heard you cheering for the team. Suddenly, he's ready to play! Put him in, coach! He can do it!

Coach knows when Floyd cares, he's the star player, so he puts him in without hesitation. Any loss is quickly made up as Floyd dominates the court, all to impress you.

He's shameless about it. When he makes eye contact with you, he'll wink, roguishly. If he takes a shot, he'll shout, "Hey! Shrimpy!" Just to make sure you watch him.

The team quickly figures out why he's playing so well, and immediately start trying to figure out how to get you to every game. Floyd sees one of them mouth your name in the midst of their whispering, and he nearly forgets about the game, in favor of trying to fight the poor soul. Coach quickly stops him by reminding him you might not find that very nice. That puts Floyd back on track.

The second the buzzer sounds, and the game is over, he's bounding up the bleachers to swing you around in his strong arms. When he finally lets your feet touch the ground again, you tell him, with total admiration in your eyes, how impressed you were, and press a kiss to his cheek.

He's whining now, because you missed! Those aren't his lips! Don't kiss him unless you're gonna do it properly. 

Ah shit, now he's shoving spectators out of the way so he can lay you down and start kissing you "properly". No one can save you. And, frankly, only fools will even try to. The team and student section  sees you as a sacrifice to the eel, in exchange for a win. And Jade…well…he's not going to stop his brother from having a good time.

[moshpitgamma]

OMG I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS! Can you do a headcanons or One shot NSFW of Clay x shy wife reader? I hope you can accommodate my request and I hope you have a good day

Time to see how Mr. Serious acts with a shy wife...AND THANK YOUUUUUUUUU

Clay x Shy! Wife|| Headcannons

——————————

Well first things first...he is always by your side and making sure you are ok in public areas.

If you have a security item, like a blanket or something, he is always carrying it with him all the time just in case you start to panic from to much attention.

When he goes to introduce himself and you shy away, he will happily introduce you and answer any questions that person may have.

If someone talks shit about you and how you're doing too much with acting shy, Clay is finding whoever said it and will make them disapear for a few days.

Clay thinks you being shy is very cute and like to help you get out of your comfort zone sometimes.

Praises you for doing things you normally wouldn't do.

If you start to panic from having to do something very social, he will hold your hand, rub soothing strokes on your back and intwine both of yall's tails together.

Most of the time when people see him, you are right by his hip.

Even if both of yall are quiet, Clay still will have to drag you out to meet people and his brothers.

When you first met his brothers, you definitely froze and just blank stared at them cause all the attention was on you.

When Clay noticed he hurried to grab you and tell them to calm down and give you a chance to warm up to them.

If you ever need reassurance from trying new clothes or being to shy to show a new hairstyle, he is there being the biggest supporter in the world.

If you both go out with company and he sees you by yourself just sitting to scared to talk, he's hanging out with you for the rest of the night.

If he does see you getting out of your comfort zone and you get rowdy for when someone messes with you, he is flabbergasted and is just blank staring at you, his wife, HIS SHY WIFE THAT JUST THREATENED TO SHOVE A WIDDLED STICK UP THEIR ASS IF THEY DON'T STFU. (Is falling for you right then and there)

Will go around and promote his wife around like a prized trophy and tell people how beautiful and cute you are.

HOPE YOU LIKE ITTTTTTTT

[taocard]

Jealousy of Mine

♡ I grant a wish for whoever summons me and take one thing as a payment ♡ 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Scaramoiche/Wanderer/Kunikuzushi

𝐬𝐰𝐨'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: highschool au. lazily proofread. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scara, who's that classmate of yours that's always picking on you one way or another. whether it's calling you names, starting competitions, or taking your last piece of gum before a math final. you, who doesn't back down from a fight when you see it and call him names right back, smirking when you get a higher grade than him, and even going as far as taking his wallet so you can buy a soda can from the vending machine. all he knows is he hates you. he hates that smile of yours. he hates it when you talk to him when no one else will. he hates how you have specific nicknames just for him. he hates all of it. ...so why is he getting all protective over you when he sees some random bullies shoving you in a locker because you couldn't shut your big ass mouth. he finds you in the boy's locker room, in his locker, and opens it, cringing as he does so. "are you a fucking creep this is low even for you..." his words trail off into silence when he sees bruises on your arms and his brows knit into a frown. he grabs your wrist and yanks you out of the locker, demanding to know who did this. he's pissed. not at you. but because someone dared to do to you what he does. only he's allowed to do stuff like this to you. only he's allowed to be mean to you. no one else. "aww, is someone getting soft for me?" you hum with a lazy smirk. you feel his grip on your wrist tighten and you hiss. "Scara can you loosen the grip there? i just got shoved in a damn locker give me a pause." "just shut up for two seconds will you and give me the damn names?" "why should i tell you" "i swear to god if i have to ask again" anddddddd you two already bickering again. Scara, who takes you to the nurse's office to get you an ice pack, and when you finally tell him the names he goes so nonchalant it was a complete contrast to when he was questioning you. "oh. those guys. really?" his arms are crossed and he's leaning against the wall while you put the ice pack against your cheek that was bruised. "they're so weak. surprised you couldn't have done anything, guess you really are a worm" hmm. so he's not freaking out. it seems he's not that concerned anymore. until the next day rolled around and the people who shoved you in the locker were missing from school. "yeah they never got home last night. don't you find that weird?" you asked Scara, who sat right beside you. "nah, that group was rumored to be taking drugs or something late at night. so they must've stayed out for longer this time," he replied, bored. "mm. makes sense." and it slips from your mind. forgetting they never made it home and they were no longer people in your life. sometimes, Scara will rant to an unlucky victim about what an "uggo" you are cause you pissed him off. it was an unlucky victim because the key was to just stay silent. don't agree or disagree during Scara's fit. and they did not stay silent because they just had to have an opinion. "they're so annoying! that uggo really thinks she's all that! her looks match her horrible personality. and she barely has any manners and just wants to start shit with me!" not exactly true. since he was the one who took her erasure so now she took three of his pencils that had an erasure on it. and, she wasn't really planning on giving them back. "and she was wearing these heels that made her taller than me and were too loud-" "yn? ugly?" Scara's heart seemed to stop at those words from the guy next to him. "I think she's quite attractive though?" Scara completely froze at this point, trying to comprehend what this complete nobody was even saying. "she's also nice. she gave me her lunch money the other day and saved me the starvation. i wonder why you would hate-" "what?" Scara was glaring at the person, his eyes glowing with...anger? no..it wasn't that. it was jealousy. Scara crossed his arms with a 'hmph' and looked ahead at the board, looking very upset.

the person was left confused and just went back to talking to his friend nearby, but little did he know Scara was spiraling in his mind. if this kid ended up getting close to you and would eventually break your heart because that's what people do in relationships, wouldn't he be putting you through pain? a nobody like him putting you through pain just like those bullies. why does everyone seem to want to hurt you? only he's allowed to hurt you don't they know this? you're his. to bully. to hurt. to wound. to yell at. and he's kind enough to give you breaks once in a while and look after your health. and he would help put you back together each time. he would take care of you. but they wouldn't. they don't care. and thats how this kid next to him. who said nothing bad at all. became a threat to Scara and your world just like those bullies did. Scara, who later that evening has a knife to the classmates throat in a deserted place with no eye witnesses, and was threatening him. this guy was going to take you away from him and hurt you. he had to prevent that didnt he? there was cuts on the guys arms, legs, a few on his cheek, and maybe a bruise forming on his stomach where scara currently put pressure on with his foot. he looked down at the pleading victim. "so you'll leave them alone? you won't talk to her ever again?" "yes yes! i'm sorry i won't speak of her or go within a 7-foot radius of her! im sorry! a-and i won't tell anyone about this! so you can get exactly what you want!" what a wuss. this was so damn boring. "hmm"

the guy under him seemed relieved, thinking Scara was going to say yes. "actually..." Scara put the knife under the guy's chin, making them force eye contact. "i think i don't wanna do that. everyones bound to break their promises. better safe than sorry, don't you think?" the guys face dropped and was going to yell but... "sorry not sorry," he said, making a swift cut across the guy's neck. Scara looked down at the lifeless body and groaned at the thought of your annoying complaining. you'd probably whine and say "this isnt right!" he goes on to hide the body. it'll surely save him the headache. he was used to it. Scara has only done it a few times. even before the bullies. one time it was actually a teacher, that was actually an interesting threat he dealt with. teenagers were just boring compared to adults it seemed.

he put all the threats where they belonged. buried and dead in different parts of the woods. he even had to separate the bullies' body parts since they were so big. don't you see how much work you are putting him through?? strangely enough, the victim's words echoed in his head. y/n? ugly? I think they are quite attractive though? ...then you came to mind. smiling whenever you did something right. that cute pout you had when he beat you in sports. and those times you'd steal his wallet to get soda but you'd always bring him a snack or drink too. ...ah. "damn it" he murmured. Scara placed his forehead on the handle of the shovel, blushing. as far as he's concerned. you were average. and you gave him more work to do than he'd initially like to put himself through. if anyone saw him, they would feel highly uncomfortable and even call him mad. he had a splotch of blood on his cheek. some dirt on his hands. and a body on the ground in front of him that he was currently covering with the shovel. and he was blushing over a girl.

[ohimsummer]

content: armin x black! fem reader, modern! au, eren x reader, bratty! reader, rough sex, hatefucking, is this cuckolding..., also slightly proofread

Eren was fucking Armin’s girlfriend. You knew, his friends knew it, and Armin knew it, too. And he allowed it.

You’d fucked Armin’s friends before; Jean, Connie, Reiner, Porco, and Eren, all of them. Just something experimental they wanted to try out, run you through and use you like a little whore. Armin was there the whole time to make sure you were okay and comfortable. It was a one-time thing, and you never did it with the first four again. Eren, however, was a different story.

He thought you were such a bratty little bitch with a smart fucking mouth designed specifically to piss him off. Always cursing at him, telling him to shut the fuck up in front of his friends when he said something you didn’t like, and giving him enough sass for five people let alone just him. And he couldn’t fucking stand it, he had to do something about that bratty mouth of yours and put you in your place, even if it’d only last for a few days.

“Ah, Eren, f-fuck, slow down!”

Whether he wasn’t paying attention or was ignoring you altogether was a mystery, though it was likely the latter. Your hand flails in the air behind you in a futile search of his torso to get Eren to ease up, and he grabs it and forces it behind your back. He moves to lean over you with his dick still buried to the hilt in your sore, spasming cunt. 

“The hell do you want?”, he hisses into your ear. 

“Can you hear? I said slow down!”, you snap at him, and it earns you another vicious thrust that sends you further into you and Armin’s bedsheets. 

“Why don’t you talk to me with some respect and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“Fuck you.”

He tsks at you, ass up and face shoved into a pillow, braids disheveled all over your head, and still just as feisty as ever. “You and that fucking mouth.”

The moment you had to catch your breath wasn’t nearly enough before Eren’s back to battering your pussy like he owns it. And you guess he does, for the moment anyway. 

The tip of his cock hits that sweet spot amidst your gummy walls one too many times and, for the third time, you’re convulsing and gushing wildly around his dick. He snaps his hips against your ass, and then he’s filling you up once again, pulling out to watch his cum drip out of your messy hole to leak down your thighs and into the growing stain amongst the sheets. He leans back to a kneeling position; Eren chuckles as your trembling, heaving body tips over on the bed, fingers gripping the pillow for dear life. He takes in the scene, from the spot of drool soaked into the pillow, to your deep, stuttered gulps of air. Eren stares curiously as your leg extends towards him, and you feebly nudge his knee with your foot.

“Hey..”, you force the words out between gasps. ”Get up, punk. Don’t tell me you’re already done with me? Armin lasts way longer than you.”

There you go again, you and that shit attitude of yours. You’re shivering and shaking and can barely catch your breath, barely even move, and yet you can still find the energy to be a little smartass. And right as Eren was thinking of sending you back to your boyfriend in the living room, who surely heard you getting properly fucked right down the hall. 

“Is that so?”, Eren mutters as he grabs your hips again, forcing you back onto your knees and lining himself up with your entrance.

A loud, drawn-out moan leaves you and bounces off the walls as Eren pushes into your pussy once again. You’re glad he’s too focused on trying to punish you to take note of that conniving, fox-like grin on your face. You can’t help having a little fun with him, he’s so easy to piss off. 

[huhniebowl]

Mourlin Rouge

dominic fike x reader

warning(s); mentions of drug use, lil spicy & once again a try at some plot, so it’s a little long!

a/n; hey...been a while🧍🏾‍♀️...real shit i missed y'all.

ima try and wheeze my way back up in here. here's my apology... thanks for the request♥️

not proof read yet!

¥

You push and shove your way through sweaty, sticky bodies trying to get to the bar. The bottom of your boots stick to the candied floor from spilled drinks, and God knows what else. 

You're positive that if it weren’t so loud in here, you’d hear the toe-curling sound of your soles detaching from the sealed concrete. 

This wasn’t how you envisioned your Saturday night to go; in fact, it wasn’t supposed to go like this at all.

What was meant to be a night of takeout and reruns of Supernatural suddenly wasn’t when your best friend, Aria, rang your phone. 

Lights from the provocative club paint the room in deep crimson and make it hard to distinguish the faces and details of the clubbers.

Maybe that was the point of it. To hide the platinum pink hair of the woman you thought was blond, but remember the way her skin-tight dress glittered as she moved.

It had been a while since you felt that unreachable state of bliss.

You’re jealous. 

Jealous of the people here. They aren’t here for a long time, you could tell by the way some were leaning over glass tables with rolled dollar bills—noses powdered white. 

Or how they drop unicorn-shaped tablets on their tongues before kicking back a shot. They have no purpose, nothing to lose if shit were to hit the fan. 

You grimace, no stranger to that state of mind. But that’s not you anymore. 

Hasn’t been for years. Not since you met him. 

In time, you make it to the bar, tall bottles of alcohol lined up in the wall, a golden glow emitting from behind them, and a bartender whose breasts look as if they're about to spill from her top. Betty. 

Her nickname was given thanks to her curvy figure, pixie cut, and melanin skin.

Proclaiming her to be a real live Betty Boop. She’s familiar with you, as this isn’t your first time here, but it’s been a long while since you’ve set foot. 

A thick cloud of smoke disperses from her lips, she winks at you, and you grin. 

No stranger to her flirting. 

“Haven’t seen you round’ here inna minute, you ain’t cheatin’ on me now?” her southern accent loud and thick.

“Could never do that you Betty, you know that.” You counter, leaning forward a bit and into her space. 

You order something strong and sweet, voice open and teasing. Used to playing your cards right and getting your first drink free with her. 

Betty gives you a once over, eyes playful and pupils blown as vapor steams from her nostrils, and clouds around you again. It’s sickeningly sweet. 

The smallest smirk grows on her face, and then she goes about doing her job—bending down into a cabinet to grab what looks to be an expensive Vodka—playfully shaking her ass in the process. 

You get comfortable on the stool and unstick your boots from the ground, placing them on the stool’s metal foot rod. 

Your lips curl up at the resistance. 

Out of all the clubs Aria could have picked, this is always the designated meeting ground. 

Mourlin Rouge. 

It's a lewd place within the red district of LA. You used to love it here, came every weekend with her and your friend group. 

With him. 

A Friday and Saturday night hotspot for the young and reckless. Music loud, K bumps on gold platters, and the weighted stench of marijuana. 

You contribute to the stench. Weed fragrancing off you since you hotboxed your car before coming inside. 

Your high is a pleasant one, Wedding Cake, always your go-to when clubbing. 

Your name is shouted out, and you faintly hear it under the bass of the music. You crane your neck over your shoulder and lazily scan the onslaught of clubbers for the face with the familiar voice. 

A tan arm sticks out, then a leg clad in leather pants before Aria shoves the rest of her body through the crowd. 

Similar to what you did moments earlier. 

You reach a hand up, ready to wave her over when you make eye contact, but your arm stills mid-way when a few other people filter in behind her, following in her footsteps. 

The look you share is brief, but she looks nervous. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her lips pursed to the side. 

Then you see him. The side of him, and suddenly the look on Aria’s face makes sense. 

Your stomach churns and you quickly swivel back around to the bar before he can see you. 

Betty comes back and slides a tall glass of alcohol towards you. It’s pink, has sugar on the rim, and a cocktail toothpick with a lacy black panty on the tip.  

You grab it the second it’s within reach and take a much-needed sip. 

Quick to get rid of the sick feeling in your stomach. It burns the entire way down, just as you hoped. 

It’s uncanny how after months, just a look at him can make your body curl in itself within seconds. 

You part your lips, ready to catch Betty’s attention to add a tequila shot when an arm slithers around your bare torso. The tattoos are a dead giveaway, your body knows who it is before your brain can catch up. 

His touch is scorching and reminds you of the nights you'd curl into him to warm yourself. 

He tugs you back and presses you against his chest. You feel the cold metal of a necklace on your back, no doubt the one you bought him. 

The pendant digs into the top of your spine, as you grip the sides of your chair. 

You take a deep breath when the hand around your waist spreads open, palm now resting on your hip. It takes all your strength not to succumb to old habits. 

To curve your body to fit into his grip, reach around to scratch at his jaw as you turn your head to leave a glossy kiss on his neck. Right over the tattoo he has of your lips. 

He smells familiar, spicy, and warm. Your clit pulses at the remembrance of it all. 

“Dominic,” You start, voice shaky. You clear your throat, quick to cover up vulnerability. 

You don’t miss him, and he’ll be aware of that by any means necessary. 

“Get off.” 

He no longer has access to you like this, he’s crossing a boundary. One that you’re having trouble keeping up. 

With more effort than you’d like to admit, you yank his arm off you and cross your legs. Swiping non-existent lint off your skirt. Anything to keep yourself from facing him. 

Your breakup was nasty, though you both never ventured past the title of a situationship. So you’d hardly call it a breakup. And that was the problem. 

Dom was ready for something more, more than just a fuck, and so were you. But you didn’t trust him, not with a reputation like his. 

Hell, you both started messing around because of his reputation. He was known for no strings attached. A nice fuck, a good friend.

Simple and to the point. 

But you both never expected it to stretch out like this. For feelings to develop, for them to be mutual. 

You got scared, scared that this was just a phase for him and not real. Because it was so real for you. To a point where it felt like your lifeline. 

You broke it off and went no contact.

The night of you and Dom’s argument is something you’ve never been able to forget. You’d never seen him so distraught. So angry.

The intensity of it all reached heights you didn't think was possible. It’s been 3 months since then and the weight feels as heavy as it did back then. 

“Girl, hey!” Aria steps to your left, her hands interlocked and resting under her chin as she smiles brightly. Voice up a pitch. 

Something she subconsciously does when she knows she's fucked up.  

“We saw him and some of his friends while waiting in line. We sort of just merged.” She eyes your other friend, Chloè, who fiddles with her hands and gives a weak smile.

You sigh, and can’t help but wonder if this was planned. The two of them time, and time again have told you that you acted irrational, that what you did wasn’t fair to him.

 And you know. But you've convinced yourself that it's too late to reach out. To make amends. You've made your bed, and now you have to lie in it.

Chloè begged you to reach out to him, and you shot her down every time. 

Aria adjusts the strap of her skimpy top, which didn’t need fixing but is now twisted around. Another anxious habit of hers.

This was planned. 

You nod your head and muster a smile. “It’s cool. We’re all friends here.” 

You look around towards the mixed group and try to play it neutral when you make contact with Dean. Dom’s closest friend. He’s staring blankly at you, judgment and anger bleeding out from his demeanor. 

You cower under his gaze and divert your attention elsewhere. You can’t say you blame him. 

“Uh, Jim Beam. Neat.” Dom’s voice rumbles behind you, he’s still so close you can feel the vibrations. He didn’t take your aggression seriously, and you’re not surprised. 

He knows your body inside and out. Knows exactly how you tick. He’s seen the worst side of you, as well as the best.

Your weak attempt to keep a staid act was pointless. 

It's why you can’t help it this time when you slyly turn to glance at his side profile. Your first official look of the night.

He’s looking at Betty as he orders, jawline sharp and lightly stubbled over. 

Your eyes move up to his hair. It’s down to his neck now, slightly curled up. The start of a mullet.

The front of his hair long and curly and cascades down the side of his face. Stopping just under his cheekbones. He’s changed so much. 

“She’ll have a tequila shot, salt rim.” He remembers your order and your foot twitches. 

Before you can move, Dominic turns to you. Locking you in place with the eye contact you’ve been trying to avoid since the moment you saw him. 

Your breath catches in your throat, heart thumping against your ribs. 

He leans down so he’s level with your ear, hot breath fanning against your neck, “Right?” 

Your arms wisp over with goosebumps. 

His eyes are hooded, glossed over. You can tell he smoked before coming in. He roams over your face, stopping at your lips, before slowly looking back up. He leans in closer, and something in his face glints. 

An eyebrow piercing. That’s new. 

It looks completely healed, and your fingertips tremble with the need to softly run over it. 

The parallel of the gold glow emitting from the bottle wall, to the red lighting of the club wash over him. He looks downright fuckable, and your self-restraint is hanging on by a thread. 

It doesn’t take much for you to start remembering what you’ve tried so hard to bury.

Remembering how his lips felt when leaving reassuring kisses on the parts of your body you hated most. 

How’d he laugh when you’d fuck up a string while he was teaching you to play guitar.

Arms wrapped around your middle and chin hooked over your shoulder as you sat in his lap in his studio. Arms and hands pressed and tangled over each other as he taught you an A cord to a B. 

How he’d stare at you as if you were the sole reason for his existence as his hips moved at a pace that always had you on the brink of admitting the immense amount of love you hold for him. 

He’s giving you that look now. You need to get out of here. 

You swipe your clammy palms down your thighs and shoot up from the barstool, making a beeline to the bathroom and not sparing a look back toward Aria or Chloé. 

You fall into the door when you make it inside.

The single restroom is washed in a warm low light. It’s surprisingly clean, with a bathroom vanity, and square mirror.

You take deep breaths to try and calm down. 

“Fuck fuck, fuck!” You whisper yell, adjusting your top and moving over to look at yourself in the mirror.

Sweat starts to pebble on your forehead, and you hastily pull tissue from the dispenser to pat at your face. Careful not to smudge your makeup.��

You’re racking your brain, trying to think of all the ways you can escape the club when the door clicks open. 

You freeze, looking at the door through the mirror. It’s Dom, and he looks at you through the reflection as he locks the door behind him. 

Something you thought you did.  

You’re not thinking straight anymore, the only thing your mind keeps repeating is Leave! Get out! 

Your body moves on auto, and you throw the paper towels down, gripping your mini purse tightly as you take long strides to the door.

Dominic doesn’t move, he stays firm in front your only exit, and watches your acrylics hit against the handle in an attempt to grip it. 

“Dom fucking move or I swear to God.” Your voice comes out weak and desperate. 

The strong tilt you had at the bar is gone. 

You feel your body start to weaken, tears threatening to spill at your waterline. 

“Dominic please.” Your voice simmers out, and your arms fall limp at the handle. He doesn't budge. You feel his eyes on you, and you suddenly feel small. Bared.

Dom softly brushes his fingers against your collarbone, moving up to your throat, then gently pulling you towards him by the sides of your face.

You keep your eyes on the sealed concrete. 

“Stop.” He speaks against your lips, “Stop fucking fighting me.”

His voice is as weak and tired as yours.

It’s silent between you, your breaths mingling together with the muted bass in the bathroom walls. 

“Can I trust you?” You finally speak. Vulnerability leaks out of you in waves, you’re on the brink of giving in.

You’re surprised you lasted this long in your resolve, your want to give yourself to him present since the very beginning of all this. 

“I want this so bad. I want you so fucking bad, but can I trust you? Can you even trust me after what I—” You choke up, shaking your head. 

“Yes, you can trust me.” he nods his head, “And despite it all, I trust you. With every fiber of my fucking being.” His thumb moves to swipe at your bottom lip, “I’ve never been more sure about anyone than I have with you.” 

He tugs on your chin for you look at him, and you follow. Willingly locking eyes with the man you swore you didn’t need.  

“I swear it,” Dominic says your name with finality, leaving no room for you to doubt him. 

And it’s all you need. 

You drop your purse to the floor, and eagerly tangle your fingers in his hair, yanking him to your mouth. Everything feels hot, your heart thrumming through your ears.

He kisses you feverishly, something about it almost primal.

Something spreads throughout your chest. It’s so strong, heavy, and so liberating that your fingers start to tremble. 

You’re relying solely on muscle memory, when Dominic grabs a handful of your ass underneath your skirt, your flesh protruding between his fingers.

You let out a whimper, a confirmation only he can understand, and you jump into his arms, wrapping your legs around his hips. 

You feel his arms flex as he swings you around, everything around you a dizzying blur until he sets you down on the edge of the sink. 

The cool ceramic sends a shiver down your spine, contrasting with the heat radiating from your skin, as you feel its smooth surface touch the curve of your ass.

Dominic doesn’t let off your lips once, taking everything you’ve denied him. You’re completely swallowed by him and let yourself fall into it without any restraint. He’s touching you everywhere, picking you apart in a way only he can do.

You try to pull back, "Dom," you whisper, the sound barely escaping your lips.

He tries to chase them, and you let him, unable to deny yourself. Your lips hover over eachother, open and panting. Anything to stay close.

So you try again, “Dominic."

His name falls from your tongue soft and determined.

He fully pulls away to pepper messy kisses along your throat, each one pulling you deeper into a fuzzy headspace.

Your hands, still trembling, tighten in his hair, silently urging him to return to you.

You guide his head back up until his gaze meets yours, his breath ragged and heavy against your skin. His hands grip your sides tightly.

His fear of losing you is still there. Your heart clenches at the realization.

"I love you." Each syllable is weighted and leaves no room for hesitation. 

Dominic's body stills. 

"Say it again," He whispers, his voice a plea. Staring at you with the same intensity he had the last time you saw each other.

Longing. 

"I love you," You repeat, the words a fervent affirmation of your unwavering devotion. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close. 

"Again, please," He implores, his voice sounds broken, disbelieving. Scared. He buries his face in the safety of your neck. 

With gentle hands, you cup his cheeks, guiding his gaze to meet yours once more. 

"I love you, Dominic," You murmur, voice laced with raw honesty.

"I love you so fucking much and I’d never do anything to hurt you again. I promise."

You brush his hair back and leave tender kisses over his face, “I’m so sorry. You have me now. All of me.”  

Dominic’s eyes start to gloss over, big, brown, and so full of love.

He nods his head firmly, and for the first time in a long time, you see him smile. It’s a genuine one, a real one. All teeth, and dimples are on full display for you, and you only. 

It’s the same smile he gave you all those years ago when you realized you had fallen for him deeper than you believed possible.

“I love you too.” He noses at your jaw, closing his eyes and melting into your body, “But you already knew that.” 

[whatsnewalycat]

bunny - one shot

Javier Peña x PhoneSexOperator!Reader - Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Phone sex, masturbation, aliens??

A/N: Just for funsies. I’m gonna do a second part to this at some point in time. Is it considered a one shot then??? Idk. Enjoy ☎️

EDIT: LINK TO SECOND PART HERE

The first time you heard Javier Peña’s voice was in 1998.

Fresh off a call with one of your regulars, Dale, with whom you role played an alien abduction fantasy, detailing the things you would theoretically do to extract his sperm in an attempt to make an alien-human hybrid clone. You told him all about how you were wrapping your spindly, gray, extraterrestrial fingers around his cock, pumping his throbbing manhood, so warm, so deliciously human. From wherever he was, a wet slapping sound and shaky little moans filled your ears.

Sometimes you theoretically shoved things up his ass while he actually shoved things up his ass. Probing, he called it. Sometimes you’d theoretically take him in your tiny, lipless alien mouth while you sat at your kitchen counter and stretched your very human lips around a dildo, rutting up and down until you were gagging and gasping for air. Dale, on the other end, would start out whimpering no, don’t, I have a wife. Then as the squelching sounds of the dildo in your mouth grew wetter, faster, he would grunt out things like fuck yes, you fucking like that you naughty little alien?

Only after he came would he allow the façade to break, mumbling a thank you, telling you about how his wife thought his fetish was too weird to partake in this kind of role play. You said that you enjoyed his calls because it allowed you to be creative and… actually, you found it kind of hot. He said he’d talk to you soon and dropped the call.

Then the next call came in.

“Hi,” you purred, “What’s your name?”

“Javier,” he replied, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

The dulcet baritone of his voice was smooth and sure. There was clinking and a long sip from his end, indicating that he was drinking.

“Bunny,” you told him, “What’re you drinking tonight, Javier?”

This was a fake name, of course, and was listed in your newspaper ad alongside a grainy black and white picture of a woman who was most definitely not you. Most men know this, sometimes asking what’s your real name? Or, what do you really look like? And you always tell them the same thing: I’m whatever you want me to be, handsome.

A fantasy. A shapeshifter. Custom-tailored to outfit their most depraved sexual cravings.

“Whiskey,” he answered, “How long have you been doing this… Bunny?”

As thinly-veiled as his disbelief was, you appreciated his attempt to suspend it when he said your fake name.

“About a year now,” you started off around your kitchen’s island counter, stepping heavy to let him hear your heels click-clack against the tiled flooring. That really got some men going.

The wet swallow of his throat, a slurp, then a quiet sigh. Another sip of his whiskey. He then inquired, “Do you like it?”

“I do,” you replied earnestly, looking up at your ceiling, studying the grooves of the light fixture hanging above you, “I get to talk to all kinds of interesting people.”

His throat rumbled in acknowledgment.

“How was your day today, handsome?” you prodded, trying to sus out what this man’s motive was for calling. Some people take a while to gather the courage to come out with it. A few just want to talk.

“It was shit,” he grumbled. The flick of a lighter, then a muffled inhale, exhale. Smoking.

“What can I do to make it better?” you asked, edging your voice along the rasp of your throat.

Javier took a long drag off (what you assumed to be) his cigarette, then said, “Tell me about something that makes you happy.”

You frowned and hummed in contemplation, searching your mind for what you think would make Bunny happy.

Then he added, “But don’t give me some horse shit answer like you’re just so happy with a cock crammed down your throat, ok sweetheart? Real answer.”

This made you laugh, and you told him, “Sure. Ok, let me think.”

“I like your laugh,” he commented softly while you were digging through your brain.

“Thank you, Javier,” you smiled, then started pacing around your island counter as you mulled over an answer that’s real, but not too real as to reveal the tender parts of yourself you keep separate from this job.

He waited patiently, sipping his drink and smoking.

“There’s a bird feeder in the garden of my apartment complex,” you confided as you leaned against the counter and crossed an arm across your soft middle, “In the morning I sit out on my deck and watch the birds while I drink coffee.”

“And that makes you happy?” he asked. His voice was flat and unbelieving.

“It does,” you confirmed, nodding your head as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other, “I think it’s important to take joy in the small things. Like how the sky looks when the sun is rising. Or when I see a black-crested titmouse at the bird feeder.”

“A what?” Javier chuckled, and it was warm and deep and genuine, “What’re you, a Boy Scout?”

“Bunny scout,” you joked.

Heat spread across your face like wildfire when he laughed at this. The sound made your heart skip a beat.

“And, what makes you happy, Javier?” you asked then, dropping your voice to sultry croon.

He grunted at this. The sound of a fridge opening. Ice clattering into his glass. The glug-glug-glug of whiskey being poured.

You pushed off the counter and walked around the island again, the click-clack of your heels on tile sounding off every second like a timer.

“I suppose, the company of a beautiful woman like you is enough to make me happy.”

“I thought you said no horse shit answers,” you teased.

He laughed again, which made you smile, then he cleared his throat and admitted quietly, “I’ve been trying to figure it out lately.”

“Trying to figure out what makes you happy?”

“Trying to figure out what happiness is,” he clarified.

The salience of his admission struck you. You hummed to emphasize its poignancy, then told him, “Happiness is whatever you want it to be, handsome.”

Javier was the one humming then. A long sip of his whiskey. The sound of a lighter sparking the tip of a cigarette.

“Can I ask you to do something for me, sweetheart?”

“Whatever you want, Javier,” you cooed.

“Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You looked down at your baggy t-shirt and biker shorts, “A red lace bra and matching panties.”

“What you’re really wearing, Bunny,” he purred, “Let me see you how you are.”

“I’m wearing shorts and a t-shirt,” you admitted with a smirk.

“Take your shirt off,” he instructed.

You placed the phone on the counter and pulled your shirt off over your head, dropping it next to the phone. When you brought it back to your ear, you notified him, “My shirt is off.”

“Mmm, good girl,” he breathed, “Bra?”

“Not wearing one,” you told him, “I’m… topless in my kitchen right now.”

“Squeeze your tits.”

With your free hand, you grazed your breast, then pinched your nipple with a whimpered, “I’m squeezing my tit.”

“The other one, too.”

You complied, attending to the opposite side with another airy whimper.

“Do you still have shorts on?”

“Yes.”

“Take them off.”

You shimmied your shorts and underwear down to your ankles, then stepped out of them, “They’re off.”

The jingling of a belt buckle. A zip. More jingling. A soft exhale.

“I’m touching myself,” you told him as you dragged your fingertip along your seam, exploring the ridges and valleys of your sex.

“Tell me more.”

“I’m rubbing my clit,” you narrated your actions in a throaty whisper, “Drawing circles around it, it feels so fucking good, Javier.”

“Suck on your fingers.”

You did this, humming and licking around your digits.

“Are they wet?”

“Yes.”

“Spit in your hand. I wanna hear it.”

You gathered a wad of saliva on your tongue and spit it onto your fingers.

“Good,” he rumbled, “Rub your clit again, sweetheart.”

A whimper fell from your lips as you follow his instructions, “Oh my god, Javier.”

He groaned and the sound dripped down your center, hot and tangible as it pooled inside you.

“Are you stroking your cock?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

“Good,” you purred, “Fuck, this feels so fucking amazing, baby.”

“Tell me more,” his voice was low and strained.

“Rubbing my swollen fucking clit, I’m so fucking wet,” you whined, and it was real, the heat gathering at your core and pooling between your legs.

“Let me hear how fucking wet you are, sweetheart.”

You slid your touch down your lips and spread your slick around, then sank two fingers into your cunt. With a shaky moan, you started fucking yourself, letting the wet squelch of your arousal sound off freely, breathing, “Can you hear that, Javier? How much you turn me on?”

“Oh my god, yes-” he groaned, “Are you fingering yourself?”

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Get on your knees,” he instructed, so you did, then he told you, “Put the phone on the ground so I can hear you. Keep doing what you’re doing, baby, make yourself feel fucking good. I wanna hear you make yourself cum.”

“Setting the phone down,” you told him, then put it to rest on the floor between your spread knees.

This man’s stern instructions swirled around in your head, filling you with fire. You followed the urges of your flesh, moaning wantonly as your hands worked your body, “Yes yes yes- just like that, Javier, that’s fucking perfect-”

You arched your back and let your eyes flutter shut, picturing this faceless stranger getting off on the sound of your moans, the wet sound of your fingers rutting in and out of your pussy. Frantic whimpers huffed from your throat as you chased this shimmering, golden orb of pleasure, “Yes, Javier, yes yes yes baby, I’m gonna cum- that’s it, Javier- oh my god yes, I’m fucking cumming-”

Your words caught in your throat. The strumming of your touch on your clit, your fingers inside you, the stranger stroking himself, it all tightened and lifted you. The swell of an orgasm overtook your body and crashed down on you. You released a shattered moan as your pussy fluttered around your fingers.

When you picked up the phone, your breath was ragged, chest heaving, “Did you get that, handsome?”

He was panting, too, “So fucking hot.”

“Did you cum for me?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “I did.”

The flick of a lighter on the tip of a cigarette.

You giggled, “I wish I could have heard it.”

“Is that right?” he rumbled, taking a drag of his smoke.

“Yeah. I think it’s sexy,” you admitted, then added, “Maybe next time.”

“When can I talk to you next?”

You gave him your schedule. It became a weekly occurrence, these calls with Javi, which you eventually were given permission to call him. He was your favorite caller.

With most of your callers, there was an expectation that you would morph yourself into their fantasies. Which is fine. It’s something you enjoyed about your work as a phone sex operator. But there was something so freeing about your calls with Javi, how he wanted you to be yourself. Your real self turned him on more than any of the bullshit.

He never asked for your real name, although you could tell he wanted to know it. Every time he called you Bunny, it left his lips with a kind of disdain. Like he couldn’t stand you pretending to be someone he knew you weren’t. He opted to use sweetheart or baby instead, which you liked.

Javier was a loyal customer for two more years, until you were hired as a professor at The University of Texas San Antonio and finally had the financial freedom to quit your side gig as a phone sex operator. Truth be told, you grew quite attached to him. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him it was your last call when it happened. Goodbyes have never been your strong suit.

Little did you know, no goodbye was necessary. Because it wouldn’t be the last time you’d hear his voice.

[ part 2 ]

[vitamin-cunt]

A/N: ahhh sorry anon, I didn't know if these characters were together or separate so I wrote them separate 😭- V

CW: degradation, foot humping, low key footworship when I think abt it, loss of virginity, vibrators up their asses yall already know what's up

---

Painslut! Tanjiro would be too shy to admit he's feeling good.

"I-it- mmmh, it feels weird- nnngh~ this is weird, this is weirddd!"

It was fucking cute to see Tanjiro take a virbator in his ass the first time. What had been a joke between friends had turned into a serious proposition when he'd asked you to take his virginity one drunken night.

You could feel his cock twitching beneath your foot, even with your house slippers in the way. He was spread out against his couch, legs tied and kept apart and arms tied to his back.

You couldn't help but laugh out loud at the display. "Poor, poor thing. You were never gonna be able to have normal sex anyway, hm?" You lean forward, lightly but surely adding pressure to the foot on his cock. "Aren't you glad I took your virginity before other people found out you like to have weird sex?"

His face scrunched up and the tears pressed out in a hot stream against his burning face, running past his quivering lips. He slipped out a breathy moan, as if he had previously been trying to hold his breath and finally been forced to let it out.

He was squirming beneath you, though you took note of how his hips bucked upward and into your foot, as if inviting the pain.

He was clearly ashamed, he could barely look at you. He'd opted to bury his face in his shoulder instead, where he could cry freely.

"I-I'm not- nnngh- weird, this is weird, it's weird!" He moaned into his shoulder.

"Oh?" You ask, stepping harder on his cock. "So normal people like getting their virgin dicks stepped on?"

He, notably, didn't answer.

His thighs shook from the pressure. Every part of his body had become flushed.

It was too much for him, because soon, he was throwing his head back and gasping for air, ready to cum.

He'd thrown shame to the wind, gladly grinding against the pain of your foot, humping until he was spurting pathetically onto your slippers and his stomach, thick and hot, moaning through it.

You didn't hesitate to shove your slipper in his face and tell him to lick it clean.

---

Painslut! Zenitsu would beg you to keep going.

"Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop, haaah! Nooo, don't stop, not now, no, not yet!"

Zenitsu was nothing but shameless. He loved the pain, the constant buzz of the virbator snug in his ass verses the sharp pain of the pressure of your foot against his cock.

"You're gonna get my foot dirty-" you groaned, referring to the slick mess of a cock you had beneath your foot. "Fuck, you're so gross! How am I gonna clean this shit up?"

He'd grabbed your ankle now, desperate to keep you close. He was humping your leg through the pain, leaning forward so he could press his teary face against your calf.

"I know, 'm gross! Haa-aaah! Just a gross fucking pig! I don't deserve your hands, so give me your foot! P-punish me with your virbator!"

You almost felt sorry for him. But with his eyes rolled back into his skull and his blissed, tongue-out grin, you knew he was in heaven.

Fine. You would spare him.

Your hands wove their way into his hair, pulling his head back as you dug your heel onto his cock, your foot almost slipping from the sheer slick beneath it.

He came almost immediately, as you'd expected. The tears were rolling fat and heavy down his cheeks and landing in his lap, and, unfortunately for you, on your foot.

You would make sure to punish him for that later.

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (6)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, tension, sexy mobsters, slow burn, fluff, first date, talk about sex, making out, I'm a tease :)

Indecent Proposal (5)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

You gasp at your words. Did you just say that? This isn’t you at all. You never were shy, but you’re not bold either.

While you ponder and think about what you said, Steve and Bucky share a look.

“Aw, baby. I knew we chose wisely,” you believe Bucky is about to take you right there, on the dinner table. He knocks his chair over and walks toward his husband, who jumps up just in time to cup his husband’s face and kiss him fiercely. “Fuck, I want you right now, Stevie.”

“What? I—” you lick your lips. These two men are heavily making out and you are about to join them when Steve shoves Bucky’s jacket down his broad shoulders. “Here?”

Steve ends up bending over the table while Bucky grinds his cock into his ass.

“Right here, doll,” Bucky is busy leaving hickeys on his husband’s neck. Steve moans loudly, while you try to press your legs together.

“You see, this is how we are. If we want something, we take it. If we want to do something, we give a shit what people think,” Steve pants between kisses. “If you want us, you’ll have to loosen up a little and just go with the flow.”

“Can I…watch?” You can’t believe you just asked them to let you watch them fuck. They chuckle and eagerly kiss each other. “Fuck, did I say that loud too?”

You groan and press your forehead against the table surface. “Baby doll never be ashamed of yourself. We want you to embrace your lust.”

“Do you often watch people have sex?” Steve turns his head to look at you while his husband runs his hand over Steve’s chest. “You can tell us anything. We won’t judge you.”

“Uh-I like to watch porn…sometimes,” you don’t lift your head and murmur. “Scott was not very adventurous in the bedroom. Most of the time I stared at the wall and tried to fake an orgasm. I even fell asleep once.”

“He didn’t fuck you until your legs were shaking?” Bucky stops touching his husband. He watches you lift your head to meet his gaze. “Steve, we need to make her scream soon. We cannot leave her unsatisfied for much longer. Her poor kitty needs nice treatment.”

“We will start with eating that pussy,” Steve watches you wiggle on your seat. “But we should treat her like a lady first and have dinner.”

“But…you were about…and I’m…” Your voice is a little too high for your liking. “I wanted to watch you.”

“And you will, sweetness,” Bucky purrs. He pecks his husband’s lips. “Steve is right. We want our first night together to be special.”

“Tell me,” Steve sits next to you. He grips the backrest of your chair and leans close enough to let you smell his cologne, “what kind of porn did you watch? Two girls? Two guys.”

“Stevie loves to watch too,” Bucky plops down on the chair he occupied earlier. “Especially himself getting fucked in the mirror.”

“Buck!” The blonde tuts. He’s not shy when it comes to sex, but he doesn’t want to scare you off. “That’s too much information for a first date.”

“I think,” Bucky leans toward your chair and places his hand on your thigh, “she loves hearing about our sex life. Right, sweetness? You want me to tell you how I bend Stevie over and give him what he’s craving? My thick cock.”

You’re suddenly too hot. They are both so close you can feel their breath on your exposed neck. “Please…”

“Please what, baby doll?” Steve moves impossibly closer to press a kiss on your cheek. “We want you to answer our questions before we touch you.”

“What do you like to watch to get yourself off?” Bucky runs his hand up and down your thigh. He tickles your skin with his fingertips. “Please tell me, sweetness.”

“I-I started with the usual. A lot of cum, and loud girls faking orgasms. Then I discovered gangbangs, and uh…spanking. I liked blindfolding and … oh … and there was this one video with a breeding bench. I watched the girl get bred by three guys. I never came harder.”

“Stevie,” Bucky bites his lower lip. He’s close to just throwing you on the table and crawling between your legs to fuck you straight into the table.

“Not yet, Bucky,” Steve warns. “Go ahead, doll. Tell us more. What do you like? Two guys taking care of your sweet cunt? Is that what you want?”

“I watched their cum run out of her cunt. It made me so wet,” you whisper so no one else but the two mobsters can hear. “Another time I watched two hot guys. They were so…”

“Hot?” Bucky snickers.

“I didn’t think I’d be turned on by watching a guy get fucked. But damn, he sucked the pretty guy’s cock and then he got that perfect dick and…” you drop your gaze, ashamed of your fantasies. “Is this wrong that I like to watch too?”

“We told you, don’t be ashamed of your fantasies. If you love watching people have sex it’s only natural. I love to watch too,” Steve smirks knowingly when you shift in your seat. “I can hardly wait to watch Bucky have his way with you. He’s a master in giving heads.”

“So, sweetness,” Bucky gets bold and moves his hand between your spread thighs, “are you on the menu for Bucky tonight?”

Indecent Proposal (7)

Tags in reblog.

[sommerflue-22]

Watch It! - KNY Headcanons

Somebody just shove you aggressively in a club. They spare you a glance, laugh, and walk away. Of course, your partner will not let it go just like that... In other words, what KNY characters say and/or do to defend you from intoxicated, insufferable people in a club.

Featuring: Aged up Kamaboko Squad (-Kanao), Sanemi, Kyojuro, Tengen, Giyuu

Warning: Mention of alcohol

Word count: 533

Somebody shoves you aggressively when you and Tanjiro are hanging out by the bar. I don't think he will initiate any fight or whatever, he'll just yell "What's your problem, dude?" before turning to you and asking whether you're okay. He will definitely have a handkerchief ready in case somebody spill their drink on you.

We all know Zenitsu is not an aggressive person. If someone bumps into you a tad too aggressive he will pull you to his side. "Oi, back off! Stay away from my partner!" Might not sound too scary, but he will give them an unwavering stare, ready to knock him down even because he's kinda drunk himself.

Inosuke, on the other hand, will definitely provoke the other person to fight. "What the fuck? Oi, come over here! Who do you think you are, shoving my mate like that? Over my dead body, fucker!" It gets rowdy real fast, mate. Sober or drunk, he will fight.

Similar to Inosuke, Genya will not hesitate to fight back the other person. He'll shove them back, "Watch it!" What happens next depends on how the other person reacts. If they back away, Genya will only tell them to get lost. If they taunt him, they better run. Genya will drag them outside, god knows what will happen next.

Sanemi is definitely Genya's role model in this whole "how to defend your partner in a club" thing. Sanemi will pull the person's collar back, forcing them to look him in the eye, "You're messing with the wrong people, you pathetic shit." Of course, his scars will most likely intimidate the other person. If they're trying to fight him, though... You better not let him fight, honestly. He might break the other person's bone(s).

Tengen despises drunk assholes. He thinks everyone should drink flamboyantly. Being drunk is fine, as long as they don't pick a fight with other people. Which is why he can't tolerate the person who shoves you or any of his wives. "That's soooo tacky of you. Are you sure you're supposed to be here? Should I kick your ass flying to the nearest landfill? Yknow, since you're acting so trashy like that..." Again, not that intimidating but don't forget this man is almost 2 meters tall.

I believe Kyojuro will make sure you're alright before he turns to the person. "Hey, you! Yeah, you! We need to talk!" It doesn't always work, of course, considering the other person was hella drunk or just rude. Not the most aggressive man, but he's there to have fun with you and he will make sure you do have fun. So, he'll just take you to a less crowded area and buy you another drink.

At first you might think Giyuu won't do anything since he just froze in his place as the person walks away. However his eyes widens and trails the person's move. Before you can say or do anything, he already follows them and delivers a hard slap against the back of their head. When the person turn around to find the culprit, Giyuu already walks away like nothing happened. He gets back to you and pull you closer to him.

Author Note

This is not beta-read. I'm just having a pre-party anxiety cus my friends are about to drag me to a nightclub but honestly I'm not a party person Idk what to do, what to wear UGH

Hope you enjoy tho <3

[dragonsandbutterflies]

You may only rub yourself to the story, if it turns you on. I don't want you rubbing yourself if it doesn't make you wet.

You're such a fucking cocktease slut. It's so hot to imagine that there's this beautiful young girl at the top of the class, always dutifully paying attention and getting all of her work done, working hard to get good grades and get a really good degree, and yet the whole time she's just thinking about how she wants to be turned into sex crazed horny cock slut. All the other girls and guys jealous of her grades and jealous of how smart she is, when really she just wants to be a dumb horny slut. And then she goes on to her Snapchat and on Tumblr and posts all kinds of fun pictures and videos and audios teasing everyone, telling them how she wants to have everyone turned on, showing off her sexy little ass, and those beautiful tits, and spreading her pussy and wide for them, all the while thinking that they're just enjoying seeing her, hearing her, and rubbing their cocks, and pussies to her. Getting turned on by her so much. Then one day she gets to ask in her inbox warning her to stop teasing, she's going to get in trouble like that.

She smirks and flirts right back, daring them to get her in trouble. Saying that she wants to turn even more people on because of that ask. Saying that it turns her on to make everyone else horny. And then proceeds to post even more pictures, to sell even more images of her online so that everyone can see what a sexy little horny slut she is. All the while, she's unknowingly getting closer to a dangerous fate.

With all of the teasing about having someone take advantage of her, with her telling everyone how she loves walking around her house naked, telling everyone how she loves reading smut, and how wet and makes her, how it makes her entire bed sheets completely soaked from all of the edging she's been doing, rubbing herself and being a desperate horny little slut. All the while maintaining the image in public that she's just a smart intelligent girl.

Knowing that she lives in Aus, was just the first part of his plan. His plan to take advantage of her and live stream that shit.

It was just The first part of a long, and insidious plan to make her an obedient little cock sucking settle holes.

And while she was rubbing her pussy and telling everyone how horny she is and making them horny and turn, with her body and with her voice, thinking nothing of it, he had found her address, he had seen the things she was posting, right then and there, only minutes ago, as he opened the window, and climbed in while she was edging, completely lost to the sensation's, until he pinned her down. Until he pinned you down. Pushing you down on the bed with your eyes lying wide with confusion and fear. As the stranger, pinned you down and tied you up to the bed. Shoving one of your dildo toys that was laying on the bed in your mouth to gag you and taping it in there, with duct tape hand brought. As you stare up at him, unable to say anything. You're both terrified, and turned on. Your eyes wide with terror, while your pussy drips even harder, and his fingers gently explore your completely helpless and defenseless pussy. Completely exposed and vulnerable. Even as your body shivers and your eyes try to ignore how could it feels, even as your eyelids flutter, and you pull hard at the restraints. if you hadn't been gagged you would be bagging him to fuck you. Backing him to take advantage of you even more. And yet you feel so helpless, completely gagged, not even the word uttered from you. You want to give him your consent, you want to beg him to fuck you, but you can't even do that. He doesn't care, or maybe he does, maybe he knows you love this, and maybe he is fulfilling your fantasy, forcing it on to you, because he knows you don't have the guts to do it yourself.

And once he closes that door, and locks it, you know you're fucked. No one coming in to save you now. Even as he pulls a tripod and a camera, out of his back. Fuck that's not just a digital camera, that's a full-on studio quality camera. That thing is massive. And has more buttons on it than you've ever seen. Fuck, it makes you even more wet and makes your pussy clench on nothing, knowing that he's taking high quality video of you, getting to see every little trickle of sweat, every little movement of your body. Every little part of you. And even though you're completely naked and tied up, you feel even more exposed now because of the fact that you're being recorded. The fact that this vulnerability isn't simply right now, but it's also displayed once again for everyone who sees this video. And by his actions you have no doubt that he's going to show someone. There's no way in hell that someone would record you like this, and not share it with hundreds of people. But in the back of your mind you're also terrified that it won't simply be Tumblr and he shares it with, it'll probably be hundreds of completely unfamiliar strangers on the internet. Or worse. People at school, and everyone will know what a horny dumb little slut you are. Knowing that Sabrina, the top of the class super smart girl, is a dumb horny little slut.

And even as he clicks the record button, and you see the little flashing red light, knowing that it's live, being streamed to God knows where, your pussy gets even hotter. The heat in your stomach burning, the emptiness of your pussy walls desperate. Your nipples hard, and your tongue desperately massaging and sucking on that dildo imagining it was the strangers cock. You can't help yourself, and feel your orgasm building up. Even without him touching you more than he already has. Even being tied up there, completely naked, untouched, humiliated, and embarrassed, you start getting close to your orgasm. And all it takes is his hand grabbing your breast and telling you what a filthy little slut you are forgetting wet from all of this, for you to orgasm, and your whole body to shudder...

Don't worry little one, this is just the beginning

I am so pathetically wet and needy and desperate for this to happen to me.. I couldn't help but hide away in my room and use all my toys on my holes while reading this.. here I am, naked on my bed with my plug in my ass and dildo down my throat, imagining this happening to me 🥺

[allbark-no-bite]

i’ve been meaning to tell you.

icemav (wc: 4.4k)

summary: to love a man is to tear the other apart and ruin each other ruthlessly. OR the fic Ice’s dad is the worst and Maverick loves Ice anyway

warnings: 18+ smut, mentions of violence, blood, homophobia, and vomiting

authors note: i’m sorry guys, the little gay pilots just do it for me. apologies for the half ass ending. title taken from Taylor Swift’s ‘seven’

————————————————————————

What a lot of people tend to forget about Maverick Mitchell is that he grew up a younger brother. So not only was his old man knocking him around— that is when he was actually around— but his older brother too. Mav had to learn how to defend himself by whatever means necessary, whether that meant kicking and screaming or taking a swing. He's got just as much scrappiness in his body as a hungry stray dog. It tends to get him in trouble.

Today in the locker room is no different.

They've all just been released from training for the day and have flocked to the locker room to shower. Today's flight didn't go particularly well for Maverick, but that's not totally unusual. They all have bad days, and he's just so happened to fall upon a streak of bad luck. But unfortunately enough, a bad day in the air for Maverick means a good day in the air for Tom Kazansky. And the blonde pilot is not about to let him forget it.

The shit-talking begins the moment Maverick enters into the locker room. He intentionally allows the door to swing shut behind him in the feeble hope that it will catch the pilot who is hot on his heels behind him.

Much to his disappointment, Ice catches it with his palm right before it hits him in his perfect face. "You're pathetic, honestly, Mitchell. I mean were you even trying out there? I got a lock on you faster than if it was my grandma flying out there."

"Isn't your grandma dead?" is the comment that comes from the obnoxiously tall, lumbering oaf of a man beside him.

Has he also mentioned that he hates Slider's dumbass face? He's nothing but a dick with legs.  Maverick is beginning to think the RIO shares a brain cell with his pilot because he's never heard Ice say something without Slider parroting along with his own smart ass comment.

The remark is too much for Goose— who Maverick is constantly having to remind himself that he adores— and even at the expense of his best friend, can't contain himself. He latches onto Maverick's shoulder in an attempt to keep himself upright whilst his head falls back into the shrieking laugh that is reminiscent of his call sign. If Slider wasn't so insufferably stupid, Maverick might would hate him a little bit for it. Instead he shoves his spindly RIO away from him and slams his locker shut to face Ice.

"You know, maybe if I screwed up your face, Slider here wound't be so keen to kiss your ass all of the time."

Ice takes a step towards him so that they're face to face, even if he does have to look down to be eye level with the brunette pilot. Maverick has to shove down the urge to rise up on his toes just so that they're even. He would never hear the end of that. So instead he plants his feet into the ground and steels himself against Ice's looming presence.

Ice sneers down at him, bearing his teeth just how he does when he smiles, taunting and cocksure. "We'll have a go when you learn how to make a fist, Mitchell."

Maverick smirks. "Wouldn't you like that, Kazansky?" His green eyes are blazing with what anyone watching might would interpret as righteous anger. He and Ice both know it's something else. It's all a game. A game that is so synchronized and well rehearsed that neither of them are willing to give it up just yet. Because when you know the rules, when you know just what buttons to push without it blowing up in your face, the game is safer that way.

It took them a while to get to this point, to realize that they didn't actually hate each other. There was a lot of growing pains and moments of uncomfortable realization. Mav came into Topgun with a chip on his shoulder and everything to prove, and then there was Ice, who had it all. He was charismatic and smart and funny— everything Maverick was without the debilitating strain of an estranged father who fucked off into the sky one day and never returned. And Maverick hated him for that. Hated him until he walked into the locker room one day and heard Ice's dad screaming at him over the phone.

"—no goddamn son of mine will call themselves a homosexual. As long as you have my last name—"

Ice had hung up as soon as he heard Maverick behind him, choking out a "Look, I have to go, Dad. I'm sorry— Yes, sir. Yes sir, I understand. Bye."

Maverick had just stood there at first, pretending he didn't see Ice wiping his eyes, didn't even comment as Ice cleared a sob from his throat. After that Ice just stood there staring at him, as though just waiting for Maverick to bring it up.

Finally, Maverick just laughed. "Guess we both have some pretty mean old men," was all he said. He never brought up the part about Ice's dad calling him a homosexual, but after that it was just kinda understood.

Ice was gay.

And that— that changed everything. They were still always at each other's throats. Still taunted and teased and took things too far, only for a different reason now. With DADT in place, it was the only thing they could do.

It's just that now they've been playing this game for far too long, without it ever resulting to anything, and the tension between them has built up thick enough to be cut by a knife.

Ice seems to realize this because he somehow grins even wider. "C'mon then. What're you waiting for, Mitchell?" He adds,  "Hell, I'm sure you could do it if you tried hard enough."

Maverick passes his tongue over the bridge of his teeth, and turns his head away, as if he's contemplating the invitation. To everyone around them, it looks as though Maverick's going to backdown. Really, it's to conceal the smile that has crept onto his face. Everyone should know by now that it's not like him to backdown from a challenge.

As his best friend and RIO, Goose should have seen this one coming.

Just when it looks like he's going to step away, Maverick shifts his weight on his heels and swings. Ice flinches back just a fraction of a second too late, and Maverick's fist connects with the left side of his jaw. It sends a shock ricocheting back through Maverick's arm and radiates from his knuckles all the way up to his elbow. Because the blonde pilot does have some size on him, it's not enough to send him toppling over, but Ice does have to catch himself, his hand lifting up to grab his jaw once he recovers.

It feels so good that Maverick hardly notices the clamor of the other pilots around them or Goose grabbing at the sleeve of his flight suit. He watches as Slider and Sundown rush over to help Ice, but he shrugs them off. When he straightens, there's a mar of red on his jaw where Maverick's fist had been, and his bottom lip is busted, already swelling up purple and staring to bleed.

Maverick stares at him, breathing hard in satisfaction. Despite the pain that is still sparking though his knuckles, he knows he's not above the rules of chivalry, and he offers Ice his hand—

—And finds himself sprawled out on the ground a mere second later. He must blackout for a moment because when he comes to, Ice is crouched down in front of him and there's pain pulsing from his cheekbone. Maverick squeezes his eyes shut, already feeling the beginnings of a migraine, and he wonders if he might have a concussion. Now that would really be something.

When he opens his eyes, Ice is still in front of him. The blonde pilot is smirking, his blue eyes alight with amusement despite just having been nailed in the face. "I warned you didn't I, Mitchell?"

Most of the attention their fight had originally drawn has dispersed, the pilots around them likely sensing that Ice had dutifully settled the score and that there was no more to be seen. Ever faithful, Goose is lingering just a few steps away, waiting to intervene should he be needed.

Slowly, he looks back to the pilot crouched before him. As much as Maverick hates to say it, Ice looks good when he's a little roughed up.

"Is that really all you've got?" he manages. What he means is, I'd let you punch me any day of the week if only it meant that we got to be this close.

"Maverick—" comes Goose's worried sounding voice of reason.

Ice just smiles, humoring him. "Tell you what, Mitchell. If you can even stand up straight, we'll go again."

They both know that's not going to happen. His head is pounding so hard right now that he might would be sick if he tried to stand up. Still, Maverick snarls at him comically though the pain. "Coward." But there's no bite to it.

Again, all Tom can do is smile. "C'mon," he says. He offers Maverick his hand and pulls him to his feet, throwing the brunette pilot's arms around his shoulders to take on most of his weight. "Let's go find you some ice."

Goose can only shake his head and watch them go.

And that was how it went. That was how they got by without losing their minds. If they couldn't love each other then they'd hate each other enough to make up for it.

They both know the risks. One wrong word and they're dead. All it takes is for the wrong person to hear the wrong thing, interpret an interaction the wrong way.

No one talks about it but everyone know what happens to sailors who let on that they're too friendly with their shipmates. Maverick's heard it before, some poor lieutenant screaming in the middle of the night, drug from his own bed and beaten until he's unrecognizable, and all you can do is roll over and pray for the screaming to stop. Because if you intervene you're just as guilty.

It happens more often than anyone would think, the Navy just keeps quiet about it. It's called don't ask don't tell for a reason.

It's probably the same reason as to why no one has questioned the fact that the Iceman has not once gone home with a girl from the O-Club in the entire six weeks that they have been stationed at Topgun.

His disinterest is almost comical. At any given second of the night, the blonde pilot has got girls crawling all over him. There is almost always one hanging off of his arm, gazing up longingly at him as he tries not to spill his drink, another with a delicate hand to his chest as she giggles and laughs at something he didn't even think was that funny.

Ice doesn't seem to mind the attention, but he doesn't care to feed into it either. Not even the feel of the girl to his left placing her hand a little too high up on his thigh is enough to stir his dick in his pants. It's been a long time since he's been with a girl, probably since his freshman year at the academy. Before he realized that he was gay. And even if he was hankering to get laid, which he isn't, he wouldn't consider taking one of them home. Unlike a lot of guys at the bar, he had morals, and that meant not pretending to be into it with some poor girl just to get his dick sucked.

Regardless, Maverick thinks it's really fucking distracting.

Them with their wandering hands all over Ice, it really makes his blood boil. Who were they to get to touch him like that in front of everyone.

Ice glances over and their eyes lock for a brief moment. Cheeks flaming, Maverick has to tear his eyes away. He hadn't realized he was staring until Goose swings an arm over his shoulder and places a beer in his hand. "You keep staring and he's going to come over here and beat your ass again."

Maverick sputters. "Wha—? I wasn't—"

Smiling knowingly, Goose pats his chest. "I'm just saying. No one's going to say anything about two guys having a drink together at the bar. But if you keep up with whatever the hell all of this sexual tension filled staring is about, people are going to notice and he's going to knock your lights out for real this time."

Maverick glares at him. Goose had figured out that Maverick was bi pretty early on, way back in their roommate days at the academy, but it had taken him until last week in the locker room to realize that the brunette pilot's apparent hate for his wingman was really just a hopeless middle school crush disguised by toxic masculine bravado. Now Goose has taken it upon himself to get them together. Of course that's what any good best friend would do, but if Goose has to watch the two of them flirt with each other like a bunch of sexually frustrated peacocks any longer, he might wash his own eyes out with bleach.

"Now here's what I suggest you do—"

"Maverick."

Freezing, they both slowly turn around. Maverick already knows who it is. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

Ice is standing behind them, a fresh beer in his hand. The girls from earlier are now nowhere to be seen, Maverick notes. "Ice," is all he says back, every other word in his vocabulary seemingly lost.

Really, if Goose hadn't just been in the backseat of a multimillion dollar aircraft that Maverick was flying just a few hours before, he would think the man was incompetent. Goose pats Maverick's chest before removing his arm from around his shoulders and excusing himself. "Guess that's my queue to leave, kids. I'll be over there. Way, way, over there." Before Maverick can stop him, he's disappearing into the sea of white by the bar.

And then it's just them standing together off to the side of the bar.

Ice clears his throat. "You wanna step outside, get some air?"

And because he doesn't know how else to respond to that, because he's certainly not going to tell him no, he shrugs. "Sure."

They walk outside together, or more like Maverick follows Ice out like a confused looking duckling, and Ice brings them to a stop just in front of the railing of the porch. And then he just stands there, looking out into the parking lot. Maverick lingers a few paces behind him, wondering whether or not he's supposed to join him. He tries to tell himself to relax because like Goose said, there's nothing wrong with two guys having a drink together, and maybe that's all that this is, but it certainly hadn't felt like it when they made eye contact back in the bar.

Finally, Ice asks, "Mitchell, your old man ever hit you for no good reason?" The way he asks it, it feels more like a confession than a question.

Shoulders dropping, Maverick lets out a breath of air that he'd been holding onto, and it kinda comes out as an amused laugh. "Yeah, man... Y'know sometime I think he did it just for fun. My brother too."

For the first time since they've walked outside, Ice glances sideways at him. "You've got a brother?"

"Yeah, I was younger by like six years though."

Ice's mouth twitches up into a smile. "That explains a lot."

Maverick shoves him, not hard, but it's enough to make the blonde pilot beside him sway a little to the side as he moves to lean against the railing beside him. Once Ice settles, they're shoulder to shoulder, their sides pressed into each other. Too close for explanation should someone question them.

"What about your old man?" Mav asks. He's not sure he would have ever brought up Ice's father under normal circumstances but this isn't a normal conversation.

Ice just shakes his head. "We don't talk all that much anymore unless he's calling to yell at me... You heard."

Maverick nods, taking in what Ice is telling him in. Of course he's known or at least assumed all of these things, but it's different hearing them out loud.

"Maverick, you know I'm... That's why my dad—"

Maverick straightens and Ice stops talking and follows him, the two pilots turning to face each other.

"You trying to tell me something, Iceman?" Maverick asks, smothering a smile.

Although they're not quite the same height, they're eye to eye, and for once it feels like they're equals. Ice's blue eyes glint dangerously.

Maverick's heart is pounding in his chest.

"It's Tom. And yeah, maybe I'm trying to tell you something."

In the barely lit front porch of the bar, where he's sure no one can see them, Maverick reaches out to touch him. His fingers skim along the crisp white fabric of Tom's uniform, tentative at first, until he's sure he is actually going to let him touch him. When the blonde pilot doesn't immediately pull away, Maverick's fingers curl into the fabric at his side, tugging him forcefully closer so that their bodies are pressed together and he can lean up to connect their mouths. As if equally as prepared to reciprocate the kiss, Tom's hands fist into Maverick's uniform, half untucking his shirt in the process. Their mouths clash together, forcing the other open while their tongues fight for a taste.

There's nothing glamorous about it. Maybe if they hadn't been so desperate for this moment it would have been, but there no stopping them now. Ice kisses him with every ounce of emotion that he's been keeping inside, and Maverick reciprocates it with the same vigorousity, chasing after his mouth when Ice draws away for a breath. No sooner than he does and they're kissing again.

Ice is so engrossed in the taste of Maverick's mouth, the warmth of his swollen lips, that he nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels Maverick's palm at his crotch. He doesn't even have the time to be embarrassed when the other pilot snickers at him because his dick is reminding for the first time in months that it actually works. Ice's hips roll into Maverick's palm, begging for more.

If Maverick had been waiting for permission, Ice's response is all he needs. He palms him again, firmer this time, and feels Ice hardening in his hand. At the same time, Maverick runs his tongue along the pout of Ice's bottom lip, catching it gently between his teeth when Ice groans into his mouth. His hand rubs at the now bulging crotch of Ice's uniform, and it makes the blonde's hip stutter.

Maverick is pushing him back, polished black shoes walking forward, one between Ice's legs to nudge him backwards and the other one flanking his hip. He's still all over Ice, mouthing sloppily at whatever is within kissing distance, his hand groping at Ice's dick through his pants, the other fisting his blonde hair, both of them breathing hard.

Ice's body is on fire.

It's like something primal takes over him, and before Maverick can back him against the railing, the fists he has clenched at Maverick's chest shove the brunette backwards. Ice follows, the wall catching Maverick before he can stumble completely backwards, and Ice reconnects their mouths without a moment to recover. His teeth catch at Maverick's jaw, scraping against skin until Maverick finds his mouth again in a bruising kiss.

It's a type of madness that Ice feels. It's uncontrollable and burning through his veins, every muscle in his body. Every neuron in his brain is more alive than it's ever been. It's been a long time since he's had anything this good. Because you can't do this with a woman. You can't ravage her, tear her apart the same way you can a man. You have to be considerate and thoughtful and slow. You have to attend to a woman, practice and play her like an instrument.

It's an art.

This is a whole other beast.

It's adrenaline rushing, being intimate with someone who is your equal in just about every way. It's as vulnerable as rolling over to show your belly to someone as dangerous as yourself and trusting them not to tear you apart. Someone who's after the same high as you. Someone who won't take any of your shit.

Ice gives it and Maverick gives it right back, teeth biting, lips sucking, fingers bruising. They're so close that Ice can feel the slide of muscle against his chest as Maverick breathes, his chest expanding wide with every breath. He's sucking a bruise into Maverick's throat, swirling his tongue against the other pilot's flushed skin and tasting iron.

Maverick's fingers find the button of his pants, the zipper, and then he's slipping his hand inside. Ice hisses at the intrusion of Maverick's cold fingers into his boxers, his dick jumping at the contact. Maverick wraps a hand around his throbbing cock and tugs upwards. A strangled sound leaves Ice's chest. He repeats the motion, this time using some of the precome leaking down Ice's shaft to obtain more of a gliding motion. With the lubrication, he falls into more of a rhythm, enabling Ice to match it with the rut of his hips.

Every jerk of Maverick's hand makes a sickening sucking sound, and something in the back of Ice's mind tells him he should be worried about someone hearing them. It invites a sort of adrenaline-filled fear within him. The same fear that flying gives him. Maverick swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, and he almost cries, the thought gone from his mind.

They haven't spoken this entire time but their noises of pleasure say enough. Ice is panting into the junction of Maverick's neck, muffling cries when he twists his wrist just enough to make Ice's jaw go slack.

One more tug of Maverick's hand around his pulsing cock and Ice's head goes fuzzy, followed by the most mind-shattering orgasm he's ever had flooding through him. He comes in Maverick's hand, spilling into his palm and the front of his boxers. When his coherence returns, the dead weight of his body is supported almost entirely by Maverick, almost certainly crushing him against the wall. The other pilot doesn't seem to mind, one hand around Ice's waist and the other lazily ghosting over Ice's flushed cock, sticky with come.

Ice's heart is pounding, and he's never felt more alive in his own body.

When he gets his bearings about him and the feel of Maverick stroking his sensitive cock becomes too much, he pulls away just so that there's a bit of space between them. Maverick lets him go, remaining with his back pressed against the wall.

Finally, Ice finds his voice. "Fuck, man."

He feels light headed and euphoric and full of bliss all at once.

Then his stomach churns. He's going to vomit.

Ice stumbles a few feet to lean over the side of the deck and retch, earlier's alcohol burning in his stomach. He heaves, the sudden burst of nausea coursing through him without warning. Stomach turning, Ice doesn't recall ever feeling this violently ill in his life.

When the nausea finally subside, there are tears in his eyes and an empty pit in his stomach that isn't from the vomiting. He doesn't trust himself to move away from the railing just yet, but he does look over his shoulder to find Maverick.

The brunette pilot is standing quietly behind him, a towel in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He must have slipped inside and nabbed a few things from the bar. Ice isn't sure how he had the time to do that, but he also isn't sure how long he was bent over the railing puking his guts out.

This time he gasps out, "What the fuck was that, man?"

For some reason that Ice isn't following, Maverick chuckles. "That, my friend, was the best orgasm of your life. The thing that you're experiencing right now is called guilt."

When Ice just stares at him blankly, Maverick continues. "Happened to me too the first time I got with a guy. You spend your whole life being told that something is wrong, and then you get it and it's the best thing ever. Then you come down from the high and you're disgusted with yourself for enjoying it so much because you know you're not supposed to."

His dad's voice flashes through his mind.

Stomach churning again, Ice covers his face with his palms and groans. Maverick, who seems to be enjoying Ice's misery all too much, just chuckles again. "Here, sit down and drink this," and he holds out the opened bottle of water to Ice.

Ice, feeling too queasy to argue, removes his hands from his face and takes the bottle. He sits down on the front steps and Maverick follows. They sit shoulder to shoulder, once again too close should anyone come out and find them.

Hands clasped together in front of his knees, Maverick watches as Ice takes a few small sips of the water. He remembers feeling the way Ice is now all too well. Remembers the feeling of euphoria like never before, followed by the nausea and spiral downwards. If you think about it, it's kind of funny, having such a visceral reaction to something you want so bad.

Once Ice has gotten down about half of the bottle and no longer looks like he's going to vomit, Maverick continues. “This—thing—between us. Fuck, Ice, I want it. I want it so bad. And I know that this might be harder for you than it is for me because of your dad but—Tom, I want this.”

He hears Ice shudder out a breath beside him. He’s been awfully quiet this entire time, and for a moment Maverick thinks he’s going to refuse him. Instead the blonde pilot places a hand on Maverick’s knee, his thumb smoothing over it through the fabric of his pants. “Damn you, Mitchell.”

He’s smiling and Maverick laughs, a full body laugh that has his shoulders shaking as he leans further into Ice’s side. It’s one of the greatest laughs Ice has ever heard in his entire life.

[slayfics]

Denki forces you to take a day off.

You lazily brushed your hair and went through your normal morning routine on autopilot. Everything was taking you twice as long as your head felt hazy and your throat raspy.

The smell of coffee alerted Denki that you were awake and attempting to get ready for the day.

Denki gently pushed the bathroom door open, his eyes locking with yours in the mirror as you continued to brush your hair.

"What are you doing?" He asked in a sing-songy voice.

"What does it look like? I'm getting ready for work," you said, not recognizing your own voice that was hoarse and laced with sickness.

"Oh no- no way I'm letting you step outside of this house like this. Get your cute ass back to bed," he said leaning against the door frame.

"I don't even feel that bad, I can push through it for one day," You said, setting your brush down and making your way over to him. Denki stayed firmly planted in the doorway.

"Move, I got to get my coffee," You said stubbornly.

"Make me," He chuckled, enticing you to push him out of the way. "Hey, hey relax!" He said, raising his arms as you tried to move him. But you were relentless and kept trying to push past him.

"Careful, I'll zap you," He chuckled at your weakened strength. "I can tell you're not feeling good, you're abnormally weaker than me today."

"I'm fine! Just a little under the weather, nothing I can't ignore." You said, giving up on pushing him out of the way.

"You work wayyyyy too hard, you know that?" He said, looking down at you with a playful smile still on his face. You knew this argument was far from over.

"And you don't take work seriously enough," You said, irritated at him slowing down your morning routine.

"Yeah, that's why we have each other. We balance each other out. Now come here," He said, gently placing the back of his hand against your forehead. "Holy shit- you're actually burning up. I'm not joking anymore, go back to bed babe," he said, his demeanor changing from playful to serious.

"I told you I'll be fine. I can't just not go. I have a lot of people counting on me," you said, still not giving in to calling out sick.

"Yeah, they are counting on you not to get them sick!" He responded, making you look down, averting his gaze. You knew he had a good point, but you still couldn't accept it. "Hey, come here," He said, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you into a hug. "You work soooo hard, and hardly ever call out. Believe me, everyone will be ok for a day. You need to rest," he spoke and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

You let out a heavy sigh and allowed yourself to melt into his chest.

"Fine, but just for today. I'm going back tomorrow no matter what you say!" You spoke stubbornly in your strained voice

Denki laughed, "One day at a time ok? I can't lie though, you do kind of sound adorable all sick like that," he teased.

"Shut up," you said, smacking his arm playfully.

"Fine fine, back to bed though ok," He said finally moving from the door frame and following you back to your shared bedroom.

You crawled back into bed and sent a text to your work. "There it's all taken care of. Happy?" You asked him as he wiggled into bed next to you.

"Extremely," he said, cuddling you.

"What are you doing? You still have to go to work," You said, trying to shove him out of the bed a bit.

"No way, gonna stay home and take care of you," He said, kissing the top of your head again.

"You're going to get yourself sick," you warned him.

"Then we'll be sick together. We'll take a nice little nap, and I'll make some tea and breakfast when we get up. Then I'm forcing you to take it easy. We can watch some movies or something."

"You're more stubborn than me, you know that?" You laughed and gave in to his cuddles.

"I got to be, to make sure you take the breaks you deserve. Now get some sleep, I'll be right here when you wake up," He said, squeezing you just a bit tighter as you dozed back off into sleep.

Wrote this when I had to stay home with a silly cold. I just wanted Denki to take care of me 😩~ (I am healthy now)

Tags: @unofficialmuilover