#The body textures are gonna be hell but it has to be done

[happi-tree]

heart, liver, and other matters of the body

Each morning, Lincoln takes in the face in the mirror, and sometimes, he likes what he sees.

Other times, Link glances over the wide eyes done up in borrowed eyeliner, the jawline that seems too square, too sharp today, frets at the broad slope of shoulders, the indelicate scarred brow and callused hands and battered, ashy knees, tries to sculpt the features there into something more feminine with willpower alone.

Or: Lincoln tries on a dress for the first time and comes out to her boyfriend.

ao3

Here's my Swiftli Week fic for Day 6: Secrets! 🤫 I did some research for this one, and it was lots of fun. Hope you enjoy!

(P.S. A little context for the title: xīn’gān - Mandarin term of affection which literally translates to “heart and liver” but is equivalent to “heart and soul” or “my everything” in English. Implies that, like a heart or liver, this partner is something one cannot live without.)

Lincoln Li-Wilson is buzzing with nervous energy all throughout their shopping date.

Link’s boyfriend, Taylor, can clearly tell that something’s off (he’s let his emotions show more plainly over the past few months, but he’s always been observant, always cared, and that makes Link smile fondly).

Lincoln runs a hand along the racks of clothes, distracting anxious nerves through the textures and colors, and graciously, Taylor doesn’t ask.

Not yet , a voice in Lincoln’s head says, only to be batted away by Taylor’s hand brushing against his own as they sift through the clothes together.

The mall doesn’t see a lot of traffic, these days - hasn’t seen a lot of traffic since their parents were teenagers, to be honest - so it almost feels like they have the place to themselves.

It’s nice, Link thinks while thumbing through the hangers, stopping on a flash of buttercup yellow. 

It feels soft against the skin, weighty enough to be substantial but not stifling, and the silhouette…

Lincoln takes the garment off the rack, adds it to the others.

Today, today, I’m gonna tell him today, Link repeats like a mantra, disguising nervous, shaking hands by flapping them a little. 

“All good, qīn?” Taylor asks, meeting eyes over the rack, and Lincoln’s heart flutters a little at the affectionate name.

After learning how much Link enjoys terms of endearment, Taylor’s insisted on using Mandarin pet names, citing that they still keep up his “cool and slick” reputation in public. Lincoln frankly thinks it’s pretty silly, since anyone with eyes can tell how sappy Taylor is when it comes to…

“Mm,” Link nods. It isn’t a lie, but it isn’t exactly the truth either. “Gonna try these on.”

“Awesome, man!” Taylor replies, and Lincoln doesn’t even flinch. “Want me to, uh, join you in there?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

The offer is very tempting, Link won’t lie, and definitely something they’ve done before - though the trying-on-clothes part historically has the tendency to be abandoned in favor of making out.

“Not today, shǎguā,” Lincoln tells him, voice kept purposefully light and teasing. “You’re gonna have to wait this time.”

“Boo. Have it your way, but I’m definitely sitting on one of those little benches so you can model for me! Plus, my legs could use the break.”

Satisfied, Link leads them through the maze of racks, tries not to dwell on things as they enter the changing rooms marked MEN.

True to his word, Taylor takes up his post on one of the cushioned benches in one of the alcoves, taking out his phone to scroll once he clocks which room Lincoln’s picked.

Link steps in, closes the door, breathes out, and comes face-to-face with the figure in the mirror.

Lincoln’s hair has grown out in the last year or so - rather than being buzzed at the sides, the curls now end around jawline length, depending on how they’re styled.

Taylor visits Hell more frequently, now that things have calmed a little, and Link’s gone with him, asked Terry a bunch of questions about upkeep and styling and braiding that were probably a little too much all at once but were met with enthusiasm and more in-depth answers than what YouTube had to offer. 

Link brushes back a few stray twists, meticulously dotted with colored beads and gold cuffs, complemented by the gold flowers dangling from each earlobe and the gold eyeshadow at the inner corners of each eye.

Satisfied, Lincoln begins trying things on, breezing through a graphic Garfield sweatshirt (comfy, but not big enough), a pair of joggers (right size, but the fabric feels a little weird), and an oversized tee shirt (soft and just roomy enough, definitely something to buy).

There’s just one last thing to try.

Carefully, Link takes off the shirt, hangs it back up, pulls on the last article of clothing, shimmies out of the gym shorts from underneath it.

Lincoln fumbles with the side zipper for a little, worried for the briefest moment that it wouldn’t fit around the torso, but manages to get the hang of it, clasps the hook and eye at the top edge awkwardly into place.

Link smooths down the fabric at the hips with nervous hands, then finally allows for a glance upward.

Lincoln stares. And stares.

Someone unfamiliar stares back. But it’s a good unfamiliar, a right unfamiliar.

Link has practiced saying the words in the mirror before, has felt how the shapes of them formed on the tongue, has spoken them into being in whispered, low tones. Link has treated it the same way as practicing his facial expressions, a daily ritual, trying to figure out how to show the right emotions, making sure they look and feel correct on the face as well as in the heart.

Each morning, Lincoln takes in the face in the mirror, and sometimes, he likes what he sees. 

Other times, Link glances over the wide eyes done up in borrowed eyeliner, the jawline that seems too square, too sharp today, frets at the broad slope of shoulders, the indelicate scarred brow and callused hands and battered, ashy knees, tries to sculpt the features there into something more feminine with willpower alone.

On those days, like this morning, Lincoln tries out the words again, mouths them out once more in the present. 

She. Her. 

And they feel real, feel as true as if she had just taken a whiff of that blue power from the FBI.

Sometimes, they don’t fit, just like he and him don’t feel right, sometimes, like a shirt with the wrong texture, a bite of food that’s a little too mushy. 

But sometimes, like right now, they fit Lincoln like a glove. 

They fit her like this dress. 

The bodice hugs Link’s torso, and though it’s painfully obvious that her upper body is all boxes and angles and no curves, she finds that she doesn’t mind too much.

Straps, about the width of two fingers, tie off in elegant bows that rest at the midpoint between her neck and shoulders, drawing emphasis to her collarbones in a way that makes them look almost delicate. Link frowns a bit at the way the neckline makes her shoulders look so wide. 

The light yellow fabric goes phenomenally well with her complexion in a way that makes her dark, freckled skin nearly glow, and the texture is a little stiffer than she’s used to, but it has a nice thickness to it and doesn’t chafe against her skin, with enough give that she instinctively knows wouldn’t hinder her range of motion. 

The skirt is full, gathered fabric flaring out around her hips and stopping a few inches above her knees, though she thinks it was probably meant to be a longer dress on someone with shorter legs.

She twists around in it, trying to catch a glimpse of different angles, and the way the hemline flutters around her thighs is completely alien to her, but she thinks she likes it.

She feels feminine. Girly. Is girly.

Lincoln feels like a girl. She is one.

“Link, you okay?” Taylor’s voice is muffled through the door, and there’s a small shadow beneath it, followed by a half-hearted little knock. 

Shit.

“You’ve been in there awhile.”

Fuck, has she? Maybe she got a little too carried away staring and lost track of time.

Link wracks her brain for a proper response, a yeah, I’m okay or yes, I’m fine, I’ll be out in a minute , but they get stopped up in her throat as she realizes that she’s still wearing the dress and she hasn’t come out to him yet like she planned to.

“Is it okay if I come in? No funny business, I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Shit shit shit shit shit. 

Taylor wears dresses and skirts all the time, it’ll be fine, he won’t be weirded out by it, Lincoln attempts to rationalize. It doesn’t really work, so she tries to speak again.

“‘M fine,” is all that comes out, high-pitched but not in a pretty way.

“You don’t sound fine,” Taylor argues, voice softened out at the edges so that it doesn’t sound accusatory. “Can I please come in?”

Link squints her eyes shut against it all and nods minutely, then realizes that Taylor can’t see her and manages a shaky “Yes.”

“Okay,” he says, and Link hears the door creak open, then shut, hears Taylor’s quiet footfalls.

“So, can I -? Woah .”

Cautiously, Link opens her eyes to see Taylor shaking off an expression of… bewilderment? Confusion? Curiosity? 

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, “I’m just - I wasn’t expecting - you look really pretty, dude.”

Feeling a little too overexposed, too raw, too much, Link can’t help the way she flinches. 

“Oh, baby,” Taylor says, sadness evident in his voice, and Link hates the sound of it, hates that she made him that way. “Can I touch you?”

Not trusting her voice, Link nods, and her boyfriend steps closer, winds an arm around her back, and she melts into his hold, crumbles into his familiar warmth. 

“You’re crying,” he observes quietly, reaching with his other hand to thumb away a tear, and Lincoln hadn’t even registered the wetness spilling down her cheeks until he mentioned it. 

“I’m fine, I promise.” Link’s voice sounds a little too deep to her own ears, discordant with the girl in the mirror, and another tear slips out anyway. “Just… overwhelmed?”

“Okay,” Taylor says, “We can work with that, xīn’gān.”

Xīn’gān , Lincoln thinks, heart and liver, my everything . Taylor only uses that when he’s serious.

“Can you tell me what you’re thinking?” he asks.

“It’s silly,” Link starts, then continues before Taylor can refute it. “I just… it’s hard, and I’ve been meaning to tell you, I promise, I just… couldn’t figure out when or how.”

She laughs a little, then, high-strung and nervous.

Lincoln pulls away, glances at their reflections, and Taylor’s eyes follow hers. 

“You’re not, uh, breaking up with me in this dressing room, right?” 

“No,” she says, a little too loud. “No,” she repeats, forcing her voice softer, higher. “This is a good thing, I swear, it’s just…” “Hard?” Taylor asks.

“Mm.”

Lincoln inhales shakily, reaches for Taylor’s hand, and Taylor latches them together, gives them a light squeeze.

God, she’s so lucky to have him.

Her free hand fists in the fabric of the dress, and she squeezes her eyes shut. 

“I think I’m trans.”

She said it. There’s no taking it back now.

Taylor’s thumb runs along the side of her hand. “That’s amazing, babe. I’m so proud of you,” he says, and Link knew in the back of her mind that her boyfriend would always be supportive, but that last irrational bit of fear finally vaporizes. 

Lincoln opens her eyes, and Taylor’s looking at her with so much open affection that it makes her eyes water up with tears again, and she brushes them away.

“I’m not… I still like being a guy, sometimes,” She says, the words leaving her in a rush, “but sometimes I feel more like a girl? And sometimes it’s a little bit of both?”

“That’s cool,” Taylor says with another encouraging squeeze to their joined hands.

“I think I might be… bigender?” Link tells him, and wow, it’s so nice to hear the word aloud, to tell someone. “Or maybe genderfluid? Genderqueer, definitely.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Her boyfriend says with a smile, looking a little misty-eyed himself. “Coming out’s really fucking nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”

“No kidding.”

“Is Link still okay to use?”

“I think so, yeah,” Lincoln responds, and she’s thought quite a bit about it. Despite how masculine her full name is, Link still likes it a lot. Maybe she’d find something later, but for now, she’s content with it.

“I, um,” Lincoln stutters, a little unsure of how to word it. “Is it alright if you use she/ her for me today? I still like he/him, but… feminine feels better right now.”

“Of course. Speaking of feminine, this dress looks fantastic on you.”

“Really?” Link asks, twisting a little and glancing back at the mirror, grateful to see that her makeup still looks okay.

“Really. You should buy it! If you like it, too, of course.”

“I do,” She confirms, wiping up the last of her tears, letting go of Taylor’s hand to pat her face dry with the backs of her palms. “I really do.”

“Did you do a little spin yet?” There’s a fond excitement in Taylor’s eyes as he looks her up and down - not just appraisingly, but lovingly.

She shakes her head.

“Trust me, it’s the best part. I know these things.”

Lincoln spins around a little, curious, and the way the dress floats around her, the way the fabric laps against her legs like waves - it’s addictive and oddly freeing. She twirls a little faster, reveling in the feel of it, and a smile stretches wide on her face as she lets out a little whoop of excitement.

“This is amazing, Tay!”

“It’s great, right?” 

Link comes to a stop, her dress still in motion from the force of her whirling, and she’s giddy as the fabric swooshes, then settles.

“Yeah. Wow, I kinda never wanna take this off.” She smooths her hands down her sides and over her waist, looking up again at her reflection.

She looks happy.

Lincoln is happy - really, truly, incandescently happy, in a way she doesn’t think she’s felt in a long, long time. 

“You do kinda need to take it off to buy it, though,” Taylor says. “As much as I love how gorgeous you look in it.”

“Guess so,” Link says, already dreading changing back. Maybe she can convince Taylor to help her out of the dress - with minimal making out. Maybe. 

“Have you told anyone else?” Taylor asks her, dispersing Lincoln’s brief fantasies.

Link shakes her head. “I thought about telling Dad, but, well, he’d want to tell Grant… things are still a little rocky between us, but, like, I still love him, and I don’t wanna hurt his feelings by not telling him directly? Does that even make sense?” “It does, I think,” Taylor says. 

“I’m gonna tell Normal and Scary, soon, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“And… I was thinking of talking to Hermie about… this. Gender,” Lincoln confesses, though she still cringes at the thought of it. She didn’t like to admit it to herself, but they probably knew a lot more about gender nonconformity than Link’s figured out through her own research.

“Mm, my auncle probably has some good insights, even if the two of you don’t really get along,” Taylor muses, seemingly on a similar train of thought.

“She's probably not gonna make fun of me, right?”

Her boyfriend’s eyes gleam with demonic light even in the weird fluorescent lighting of the changing room, brows furrowed, and Lincoln’s stomach does a funny little flip at the expression. “Link,” He says seriously, “If they’re even the slightest bit mean about it, I’m fucking his shit up on sight. I don’t care if we’re related - Nobody messes with my girlfriend.”

My girlfriend, Link’s mind plays back, loops it like a broken record as something shining and effervescent floods the cavities of her lungs. My girlfriend, my girlfriend, I’m his girlfriend . 

Lincoln must not be making the right face, because Taylor hastily tacks on, “W-who is also my boyfriend! Sometimes?”

He blinks up at her, brows tilted upwards in concern, a silent are you okay? and god, Link is so, so happy that she lets out a little huff of laughter.

“No, no, it’s not that, I just… I didn’t realize how much I’d like hearing you say that.”

“Oh?” A shit-eating grin forms on her boyfriend’s face, and before she can do anything about it, he’s reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand. “I have the most beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend in the world. I adore her big brown eyes, her pretty hair, her stunning smile… oh, my god, look at that, there it is, my girlfriend’s smile.”

“Stop,” Link says, half-hearted and breathless, so much heat rushing to her dimpled cheeks that Taylor, even with his demonic heritage, can probably feel it. And she would look down, but she’d only meet Taylor’s smug, knowing smirk, and that would only make her more ridiculously happy.

Taylor moves his hands to her waist, squeezes at her sides, and though she’s sure he’s continuing his goofy little litany, she’s a little too overwhelmed by sheer exhilaration to make out most of it. 

Not quite sure what to do with all her joy, laughter tumbles out, lower and raspier than she would like at the moment, but loud and bright and full.

“Oh, wow, my girlfriend just laughed and it’s my favorite sound in the whole wide world!” Taylor says, and she can hear the beam in his voice, so wide that his eyes narrow to crescents. “My girlfriend looks so pretty in this dress. I’m gonna have to buy her a dozen more.”

“You are not doing that!”

“Of course I am,” Taylor refutes, shaking his head with that adorable vehemence of his. “I’m rich! One for every day of the week, at least. You look so happy in it. I’m gonna spoil you so bad, wô de tiānshî.”

“Wô de tiānshî,” Lincoln parrots, sounding out the rise and fall of the syllables carefully. “I haven’t heard that one. What does it mean?”

“‘My angel,’” Taylor tells her softly, thumbs gently circling at her waist, and the reverence in his eyes makes her feel simultaneously unmovable and unsteady on her feet. “I always thought it would suit you, but traditionally, it’s used for girlfriends. Unless that’s too, like, weirdly gendered, uh, if it makes you uncomfortable -”

Link crushes her wonderful, amazing boyfriend to herself in a tight hug.

In an instant, Taylor’s arms circle around her, too, and so much about her has felt wrong lately, but this has always, always felt right.

“I love it,” Lincoln says, “I love you . Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Love you, too,” he replies, and they stay like that for a few long moments.

Eventually, Link pulls away, and Taylor drops his arms.

“So, wanna get this dress and get out of here and go for froyo in the food court?” He asks.

“Only if you help me take this off,” Link answers, waggling her eyebrows like Taylor had earlier. "Seriously, the zippers on these things are kinda tricky."

Taylor laughs.

“That’s my girl.”

[disneyanddisneyships]

@gyubby99 aponi angst things that I've just decided.

Warnings: mentions of r*pe, s3x, physical touch, suicide

• if you touch her neck she freaks the fuck out. She has been held down, choked, strangled, and punched there. It's the most sensitive part in her body.

• sneak up behind her and she panics. She's been assaulted multiple times and she feels vulnerable there. (Which is why she likes her butterfly wings in her demon form. She feels safer*

• she has thoughts of self harm and suicide multiple times a day. They're like echos in her head that won't go away ever.

• she's scared of sex cause she thinks it's gonna hurt even though shes done it lots of times in hell since she died. She still remembers the burning. (And holy shit does it burn.... lemme tell ya lolz)

• she's so God damn tired...... she has insomnia due to nightmares and most times she doesn't sleep. She functions on coffee.

• has attempted "suicide" again by standing out in the open during extermination day.

• when she woke up in hell, the first night, she attempted an overdose... it failed for obvious reasons.

• constantly has panic attacks when she's alone. Certain smells, textures, and feelings freak her out to the point where she's in the corner of her room, unable to breath. But then the next day she acts like everything was fine.

• has body dismorphia because of her demon form. The mark around her next makes her anxious. She hates the way she can practically see her ribs given how skinny and white She is. The permanent scar on her eye makes her feel ugly and it reminds her of her traumatic past. Her now wider thighs make her feel fat, and her feet just remind her that she's in hell and a demon.

• she lost her faith in God when she died and ended up in hell.

• has sensory overload. If too many things are happening at once she starts to cry her eyes out trying to do everything. But she doesn't accept help.

• when she knows no one will hear her she Let's out the most blood curdling screams of agony.

• whe she hears Mal have sex thru the wall she gets flashbacks of her assault. (She'd never tell Mal ofc)

• when she an alastor have sex during orcober, she constantly has flashbacks, but she sucks it up for him and trues so hard to push those memories down. (She doesn't tell Alastor).... the only time she didn't get flashbacks was that one smut fic I wrote where he ate her out.

• sometimes she looks into a crowd of people and thinks she sees Jason.. she has to go to the bathroom to calm herself down so she doesn't have an episode in front of people.

• the topic if sex is very uncomfortable for her if she is not tlaking to someone she trusts with that topic. (Ergo, Mal, Alastor, angel etc.)

[yeetusdabussy]

Hey 👋 can you write a kakashi x f!reader nsfw scenario were the reader pegs kakashi? If you are not comfortable with this I completely understand!!!

(๑T﹏T๑)oh laaawwddd sorry this took long

╭══• ೋஜ•✧๑🌸๑✧•ஜೋ •══╮

೫๑》🌸🍃MINORS NONO🍃🌸Ꮛ《๑೫

╰══• ೋஜ•✧๑🌸๑✧•ஜೋ •══╯

── ･ ｡☆*Warning*☆ﾟ.──

Pegging, dumbification,overstimulation.

It was such a hot day out today. You felt like you were melting, not only were you hot, you were horny and Kakashi has been busy at the hokage office. Doing whatever naruto knows what, it gets so lonely at the house without him there with you. Its unfair, and its getting annoying! You should punish him....yeah..you should... But how!? You blinked in thought of what to do. "What could make this man whimper and whine?...its not li-." You stopped and grinned. "Oh I know what to do!!" You yelled, you got up from your couch and stretched. "I wonder if that box is still under my bed from that gift sakura gave me..I know it was a joke but..now Its gonna be real!" You said with excitement. You would head up to your room and find the box locked away in your closet. You grab it and walk over to your shared bed,setting it down and begin to open the box. "Pfft I forgot how long it is, well he'll be taking this..long dick style."

Kakashi was just heading home after a long night at the hokage office. Its been a while since he's been at home, to hold his wife and cater to her needs. He just wanted to relax in your arms and hold you close all night, he missed your smile, your laugh, your beautiful body, your personality, just you in general. He unlocks the front door to your shared house and walks in to see you standing there in lingerie (of your choice), complimenting your beautiful S/C(skin color), the way your beautiful H/T (hair textured) was done. He walks over to you dropping everything, hugging your W/S (waist size) and kissing you deeply. There was so much love and passion within the kiss, he was desperate for your touch and attention. And that is how, he ended up face down and ass up on your shared bed taking back shots like a fucking big ass baby who just can't take it, but yet he's drooling and moaning like a desperate little whore under you. He grips your sheets and whimpers with each push of your hips. "awe, my poor baby. Can't take me huh? Maybe you deserve it for making me late for work last week. Fucking me dumb into the sheets, now look who is fucking who." You tease, you leaned down and kiss his back, your hands gripping the soft meat of his ass. He could only look back you with doe teary eyes and a gapping mouth. Not even able to form words, but he sure as hell tried to figure out how the FUCK YOU LEARNED THIS!

You giggled at his state and slapped the fat of his ass before sliding your hand down beneath him, grabbing a hold of his cock. You stroked him as you continued to pound into his tight ass, you gave him soft butterfly kisses on his back repeatedly. The sound of skin slapping was the only thing that could be heard. And of course the hoarse moans that weeps out your lover's mouth. It was such a cute sight to see, especially the way tears threatened to seep out. He looked so cute and so pathetic, you could feel the way his cock twitches that he was close. You could only chuckle and begin to move faster, stroking his cock with a even more firm grip. The way his pre cum coated your fingers into a sticky mess was a welcoming feeling. "Does it feel good? Yeah?~." Kakashi just nods his head repeatedly, only able to respond in a babbling mess. "You wanna cum?~ go ahead, cum!" You whispered so sweetly to him. "My sweet sweet boy~." That was his breaking point. It didn't take long for him to be coating your fingers and bed sheet with his cum. He soon collapses flat on the bed panting into his own mess. "You did a good job heh." you kissed his cheek. Chuckling at his fucked out state. He was far too embarrassed to even speak right now. "Then again we aren't done yet." You could see his eyes shoot open and his body quickly get up. "Wh-what!?" He questions. "You heard me pretty boy, spread those cheeks and lay on your back, I got a even better toy for you~"

[starconsumer444]

BULLY TENDOU PT2! PLS OMG IT WAS SO GOOD

Thanks bae!!! I have 3 requests for a part 2 of this so here it is. Its most likely not what the audience wanted but its the best I could come up with.

(Tendou & Semi 18+)

(CW/TW: Gn!Reader, Facefucking, Abuse, Humiliation, !!PISSSSS!!, violence, threesome??? [kinda??? this is literally one of the least concerning tags...], Non-con/Rape, Ushijima is there... in the background, this is super fucked up!!!, PLEASE TELL ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING!!!, tell me if there are any spelling or grammar errors.)

It’s been a month. Tendou hasn’t bothered you for a month since your last… “interaction”. Why this? Why now?

Thinking you could trust Ushijima was a mistake; a huge, disgusting, dumb, mistake. When he pushes you into the locker room and you see Tendou and Semi sitting patiently on the benches, you know for a fact this is not going to end well. A sense of urgency floods your body and you turn around to push the door open, but it won’t budge.

You start to bang on the door, it’s lunch time so you’re sure that Ushijima is the only one outside of that door that can hear you. He has to be the one holding it shut.

“Ushijima! Open the door!” Your fists pound against the cold metal. It hurts like hell, but anything is better than being in this room. “Ushijima please!” You slam your full weight into the crash bar, but it does nothing. You kick at the door, nothing. And you're back to pounding to no avail. Why is he so strong?

“Don’t leave me in here!” You scream, your throat is raw. “Help me!”

It does nothing.

Your body is shaking, your legs are like jelly, it’s hard to breathe; you're sure you're going to die in this room.

“You want out?” The voice comes from right above you, and you jump. It’s unmistakably Tendou. His fingers dance gently across one of your shoulder blades, “Why are you shaking? I could tell him to let you out if you want to leave so badly.” With a rough hand he turns you around to face him. “You want me to tell him to let you go?”

You can’t bring your eyes to meet his, you just nod to the floor.

“Why? I thought you had a crush on SemiSemi? I brought him just for you.” He mocks you.

Tears start to fall, you shake your head and bring your palms up to your eyes to hide that you're crying.

He grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face, locking you in a gaze that feels hypnotic. He looks so terrifying, but it’s intense and you can’t look away.

“Listen to me. I’m being fucking considerate.” His tone is harsher than before, the harshness you’ve grown familiar with. “Just do us a favor and we’ll let you go. Okay?” It’s not really a question. You can’t even bring yourself to nod, you just stare into his eyes, horrified to react.

He must’ve taken your silence as an okay. No, he just didn’t care.

Either way, you ended being dragged to the showers at the back of the locker room and forced to suck Semi off.

“Try harder.” Semi demands from above you.

You’re really trying, but you’ve never done this before. The hand you have wrapped around the base of his dick is shaking, and you can’t go down very far. You don’t know what to do.

“Dude, it’s bad.” He speaks to Tendou like you’re not even there.

“You’re too dumb to suck dick, right? Is that it? Not even your crush gets good head?”

The tears never stopped, but now they definitely flow harder. You pull away from Semi to wipe your tears, but it's quickly met with an “uh-uh” from Semi and his fingers pulling at your roots.

“Open your mouth.” He says. 

You don’t; Tendou kicks your thigh, “Do it, dumbass.”

Your mouths open and he’s slowly feeding himself back into it, “Watch your teeth.” He says, and suddenly he has both his hands on either side of your head with his dick touching the back of your throat. “It’ll be easier if we do it this way,” He says before he pulls out and slams back in.

Immediately you’re fighting him, hands pushing against his thighs trying to get away from him, but he keeps going as you choke around him. You’re clawing at his forearms and he’s not giving you a moment to breathe with his brutal assault on your throat. He just holds your head in place and acts like this is okay.

“Calm down,” Semis' voice is unstable from the pleasure he’s getting from this. “It’ll be better if you calm down.”

You can’t bring yourself to stop panicking. Your hands find purchase on Semis’ thighs and squeeze. You try to find your voice to beg him to stop, but you choke as he fucks the words right down your throat. Even you coughing around him doesn’t get him to stop, it just has Tendou laughing at you and noting how pathetic you are from the side.

“Feels so good,” Semi breathes out almost as a warning. Your nose is pressed into his abdomen in no time, and he’s holding you there. Your eye’s must’ve been closed the whole time, because when you look up at him all you can see is his blissed out expression; his eyes are closed and his mouth hangs open as he lets out soft moans. It’s all just a warning.

His hips buck forward slightly into your mouth as he cums down your throat. It doesn’t get very far before you’re coughing it right back up, some of it spilling onto the floor.

Semi pulls you off of him and steps away back into the locker room. Now it’s just you and Tendou. You know in your heart it can get so much worse than what Semi just did to you.

“Lick it up.” Tendous voice is stern but playful, like this is all a joke to him. “Come on,” He pushes your head down to the glob of Semis cum you let get away. “Lick it up.” He demands again.

The thought of licking cum off this dirty shower floor has your stomach ready to lurch out of your body. With his palm flat against your head, you shake it as best you can and immediately come to regret it when he kicks you in your ribcage. The pain travels like lightning though your body and has you immediately curling in on yourself and groaning. “Do it now or I’m just gonna beat you, your choice…”

You move to do it. You press your tongue against the cold tiled floor and drag it across with your eyes screwed shut. It’s shameful to say the least. It feels like you're going to vomit. Your eyes don’t need to be open to know how much Tendou enjoys this. The floor is cold, but his cum is noticeably warm and the texture is different.

You swallow it; a shiver wracks your frame.

“See, it wasn't that bad,” You look at him with bloodshot eyes. You can’t cry anymore and you have a headache.

“Tendou please,” It’s laced with nothing but defeat. “What did I do to you?”

“Some people just deserve it.”

So, nothing. You did nothing.

“Sit up. Open wide.”

It’s work to resist at this point, you don’t have it in you. You simply do as he says. You’ll take his dick in your mouth and this will all be over with. You’ll be done, you’ll never come to school again.

You sit up with your eyes screwed shut waiting for Tendou to use you the way Semi used you. His palm rests on your forehead and his fingers are locked into the front section of your hair, “Ready?” His smile is sadistic, but that’s just parr for the course.

It’s gross. You close your mouth immediately, you recoil, and Tendou laughs like this is even slightly funny. That alarmed look really does something for him, though.

His piss is warm and it smells gross. You, unfortunately got some of it in your mouth and your face scrunches at the taste. You try to pull away from him but his death grip on your hair gives you nowhere to run to. He just pisses on your face and it flows downward to soil your uniform.

You want to yell at him, but if you open your mouth again…

Soon it’s over, his piss has soaked into your uniform and you reek of it.

He nudges his dick at your tightly closed lips, “Clean it.”

You do so reluctantly. Your breathing is heavy and shaky, and the only sound you can hear. You’re supposed to be crying, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it anymore.

Your tongue swirls around the head of his dick and for a second you consider biting him, but you’re in no shape to fight him about it and even if you weren’t covered in his piss you wouldn’t win.

He leaves you there after you clean him off. He says something about the showers working perfectly fine, hoping you have a change of clothes, and the next p.e. class seeing you.

It’s your last year of school and you’re dropping out.

[y0itsbri]

kinktober day 3 -- lingerie @gallavichthings

the devil in disguise

ian has a deep appreciation for mickey's halloween costume.

beta read by @mishervellous ❤️

words: 1.3k

"when you said you wanted to do a couples costume, i thought you meant with me!" ian rifled through his closet, trying to put together a last minute costume while mickey changed in the bathroom into his costume so he could coordinate with fucking tami. ian could have been an angel, but no, that simply wouldn't do.

to be fair, ian should have seen this coming after lip decided to put in an ungodly amount of extra hours at the shop. tamietti's went hard for halloween, and this year was not going to be an exception. he cursed lip for inadvertently stealing his husband away from him for the night.

this was impossible. ian banged his head against the wall.

"you die out there, firecrotch?" mickey called, voice strained.

ian was thoroughly confused with whatever elaborate feat was going on behind the closed door.

"no," he called, hopeless. he tried again, "you need any help in there?" ian reached for the knob only to find it locked. motherfucker.

"aye no peeking!"

"are you almost done? i need your help," ian sat back on their bed, sinking into their mattress and tapping his fingertips along this thigh.

he couldn't decipher all of mickey's mutterings through the wooden barrier, but the 'jesus fucking christ fucking gallagher' was unmissable.

ian grinned devilishly. he was always in the mood for a grumpy mick.

mickey unlocked the door with a click and stepped out in a red blur, discarding his old clothes on the floor in his corner of their room as if ian's world wasn't currently being absolutely rocked merely three feet away.

it took mickey a moment to realize that his normally chatty husband had yet to say a word. shit. maybe ian didn't like this kind of thing.

he bit the bullet and faced ian head on, only to meet a love-shook caricature of his husband -- wide eyes, blushing cheeks, and mouth agape, damn near salivating.

oh.

mickey smirked and flexed his arms not so subtly, "what d'ya think?"

ian unfroze from his trance, caught. he groaned and flopped back onto the bed, lifting his head and peeking at mickey between his fingers, "you're going to fucking kill me."

because there mickey was. clad in a fucking red, silk, corset cut just for his body. the red ribbons crossing in the front, carving his figure in all the right angles.

after a moment of deep appreciation and an unexpected awakening, ian allowed his eyes to scan the rest of mickey, which wasn't bearing any better for his blood pressure.

sheer, fingerless red gloves were stretched across mickey's hands, faded knuckle tattoos still visible. the glint of his ring seemed more prominent all of a sudden.

ian's eyes made their way up his arm, chest, neck. a sequined devil horn nestled into his dark hair and reflecting the low light of their bedroom lamp, giving mickey a literal red aura.

enjoying the show, mickey spun around, biting his lip. ian continued to ogle.

red fishnet stockings covered mickey's muscled thighs under almost-too-short-not-short-enough leather shorts embroidered with orange flames. pointed wings attached with some elaborate belting situation between his shoulder blades, and an arrow tail slinking around his hips.

"i think this is hell," ian closed his eyes, willing the blood to go back to his brain by the sheer power of force.

mickey chuckled darkly. "that so? ian gallagher on the naughty list?"

ian cracked an eye open, "what are you, fuckin' santa claus now?"

mickey smacked ian's stomach as he sat on the bed next to his idiot of a partner, "fuck off, ho."

"don't you mean ho ho ho?" ian couldn't resist.

"and we're done," mickey made to stand up but ian caught him by the arm, sliding his hand down until he reached the hem of the glove, inching his own fingertips underneath and sliding against his skin. his voice went deeper in the way that he knew made mickey melt.

"lemme make a deal with the devil?"

he tugged and pulled mickey onto his lap so that he was straddling him, knees digging into the soft mattress.

"what does the mere mortal have in mind?" mickey teased, voice light but eyes dark.

"kiss me and i won't tear your costume to shreds," ian ran his hand up mickey's back, catching on the wings clumsily before tracing his silk clad skin back down to his thighs. "you're looking hot as hell." the statement carried heat behind it.

mickey's breathing picked up as he considered the weight of his options.

ian grinned, trapped under mickey's control, but waiting patiently for the signal he knew he would be allowed.

a breath. two. three.

"c'mere," mickey leaned.

ian crashed his lips against mickey's own, his mouth a fire hot cinnamon. ian groaned. did mickey really have a mint for this? motherfucker thought of everything.

ian traced his hands over the mickey's chest as they kissed, following the lines of silky ribbon crossing back and forth. back and forth. lower. lower. lower.

the textures of silk and leather and skin mixing together under his hands, grasping at whatever he could reach.

mickey's weight pinned him to the mattress, helpless.

he felt fingers caressing his hair as his mouth felt warmer as they melted into each other.

what felt like an eternity in damnation later, mickey broke them apart. they took a moment to assess their equally disheveled appearances while fighting to catch their breath behind a laugh.

ian made a grab to pull mickey back in, certain he would comply, but mickey was quicker.

he rolled off with a grunt, tossing a half empty water bottle at ian's still body and nudging his leg when he didn't respond.

"you ready to go?"

"go where?" ian picked up the water bottle and idly traced its shape with his fingers.

a flick. "the party? tamietti's? your sister-in-law? ring any bells?"

ian sighed as he nestled further into their bed, "i still don't have a costume."

mickey waltzed towards their dresser, a slight unbalance in his step, and flung an old flannel on the bed.

"lumberjack. you've already got the scruff, thank you very much." he added quiety, grinning lopsidedly to himself. he was genuinely so proud he had convinced ian to abandon the clean cut army man look and to not shave for a few days to see what would happen and dear god was he enjoying the consequences.

ian finally sat up and chugged the rest of water bottle in one go before setting on their nightstand. it took a moment for mickey's words to register, but when they did -- yeah.

"you're a genius."

ian leaned up to grab mickey again, but he side stepped ian's attempts and straightened his outfit. "no sir, you gotta get changed. we need to leave like... ten minutes ago. tami's gonna have my ass if we're any later."

"tami better not go anywhere near that ass," ian grumbled, but complying with mickey's requests.

"don't worry, logger, you're the only wood for me."

"oh mickey, now that was bad."

mickey grinned as he shimmied in his satin outfit, smoothing over the wrinkles that ian had put there mere minutes before.

ian could easily stare at this image of mickey all night. as he was buttoning up his flannel, he made a mental note to buy mickey some more red.

"i think red is your color, mick." ian let slip, shoving his wallet in his pocket.

"yeah?" mickey grinned, "you too, stud," he ruffled ian's hair and pushed him out the door.

[mermaidxatxheart]

Better Together Chapter Eight

Here's Chapter 8, y'all. My work is not to be posted on any other site. If you'd like to be added to my tag list, send me an ask.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: language, violence, descriptions of torture.

Series Master List

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

You climb down from the tower, trying to dry your eyes. You dust your hands off and head for the lab. You don’t want to study these stupid flowers, you just want to forget that whole stupid fucking planet. Your eyes won’t stop watering, your throat thick and painful as you try not to burst into tears again.

You round a corner, glancing behind you as you wipe your eyes again. The skin around them is starting to feel raw as you rub them endlessly. There’s something in the middle of the walkway that shouldn’t be there. You turn back to look at what you’ve walked into, stumbling back as fingers wrap around your shoulders.

“Y/N,” Poe breathes, eyes fluttering closed.

Oh, Maker. Your lower lip trembles as you look at his beautiful face, the rejection from earlier swirling up and stifling you. Your eyebrows pinch against your will, eyes starting to squint as the tears threaten to overtake you. Fighting for control, you struggle to smooth out your forehead, but no matter how hard you try, it won’t relax. You inhale sharply through your nose and his eyes fly open.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He mumbles, pulling you in for a hug. It hurts, feeling him care about you this way. You don’t hug him back, keeping your arms rigid by your sides. If you let yourself give in, it will only make things harder. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.” He whispers, burying his face in your neck. “I didn’t mean… this morning…” he takes a shuddering breath. “Please? Just… pl-please.” He hugs you tighter, his voice breaking.

“Poe,”

“Don’t you think I want… if I let myself ki-“ he cuts off audibly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He whispers.

“What do you want from me?” You ask, but it comes out colder than you mean it to.

“Forgive me? You have to know I would do anything for you. Anything you ask of me.”

“You didn’t do anything that needs to be forgiven.” You say softly, your arms curling around his back, your willpower crumbling.

“In my room-“ he starts.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.” You sigh, turning your face into his neck. “Moment of weakness. Will you forgive me?” You ask.

His soft lips press into your neck and you shiver at the unexpected touch. “Nothing to forgive.” He murmurs, lifting his head up to trail up your neck. Your heart thrums erratically in your chest as his lips brush your jawline. “Please tell me you haven’t been crying all day because I’m an asshole.”

“No.” You say, barely more than a whisper. It’s all you can manage as his lips trail up your cheek. “I finished my report for Leia.” You say and he tenses. “Poe? I know… I know I don’t deserve it, but can we talk about the river?” You ask quietly.

“I liked the river.” He mumbles against your cheek. You desperately want to turn your head, to catch his lips with yours. Maker, you feel like you’re on an emotional rollercoaster, high then low, upside down, then backwards.

“I meant what happened in the river.” You correct.

“Liked that, too.” That earns a weak chuckle.

“You shouldn’t have.” You mumble.

“Y/N,” he groans, guiding you against the wall. He brushes his thumb along your jaw. “What’s bothering you? Tell me. You have so much that you’re not saying and it just breaks my heart.”

Your holopad beeps and you close your eyes. “I have to get to the lab.” You twist your face away.

“I have literally nothing else to do. We can talk on the way.” He says, taking your hand.

“You don’t have to.” You look at him suspiciously. “Why send poor Snap to my room earlier?” You ask and he tips his head back, laughing.

“For funsies.”

“Pando? What the hell was that about?” You ask, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Lando Calrissian. You mentioned he was an inspiration of yours to become a pilot. I figured you would get the reference. Poe, Lando, we’re both pilots.” He shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“I mentioned Calrissian once, five years ago. I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“I remember everything.” He promises. “How was your caf?” He hints.

“Better than the one Bryce brought me. Thank you. And for the food.” You add and he beams, lifting your hands to trace your cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“Of course.” He looks at you before facing straight and keeping his lips pressed together.

“You might as well say it. You have a terrible sabaacc face.” You sigh, pulling him into the lab.

“I don’t like him. He’s been dating you for three years and still doesn’t know how you like your caf. It’s not hard. He’s a jerk. And I hate that he kept me from the med bay so I couldn’t see you. I hate that he acts like he owns you.” He picks up your protective lab coat and helps you slide your arms in. You wince in pain but quickly compose your face so he won’t see.

“Anything else?” You look up at him.

“Only a million other things.” He sighs, leaning against your lab bench.

“Tell me.” You say, catching his hand.

He lifts your hand to his mouth, lips parting slightly as he flutters his eyes shut. He inhales deeply, lips moving silently against the back of it.

“Didn’t catch that.”

“This is so fucked up to say, but I’m so proud of you.” He says. “When we were taken, you were incredible. I never should have put you in that position, but you didn’t say anything, not to save me, not to save yourself and, Maker, I’m so fucking proud of you. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to hold out when he started hurting you, but the fact that you weren’t breaking gave me strength.” He bows his head, clinging to your hand. “And I hate the fact that you think we went through all that because of you. None of it, none, was your fault.” He sighs, lifting his eyes to your face. “In fact, if it wasn’t morally the exact wrong thing to do, I would kiss you again in a heartbeat. Over and over. But you’re a good person and that wouldn’t be fair to you.” He murmurs softly.

“Poe,” you plead. It’s all you want, to kiss him.

“I know. I shouldn’t want that. You’re not mine to want that with, but I just… it’s in my head now. How good you taste, how soft your lips are.” He squeezes his eyes shut, cutting off his words and you squeak. You try to get your hands free, you want them in his hair, holding him to you.

“Poe, please!” You struggle and he drops your hands, hurt written all over his face.

“Okay.” He turns to leave and you grab his arm, pulling him back. You cling to his face, pulling his lips against yours. His hands grip your waist and you exhale in a rush. A massive weight is lifted off your shoulders as you kiss him, hold him. His lips part under yours and you moan low in the back of your throat. He clings to you, crushing you against him like he can’t get close enough.

Maker, you could stay like this forever.

He backs you into the lab bench, fingers pressing into your hips and you rock into him, starving. The door hisses open and he jerks back, spinning around and walking away a few steps.

Nya walks around the corner and looks up to see you fiddling with your holopad. Having barely recovered your wits, you grabbed the first thing your hands landed on.

“Y/N.” She greets with a smile. It’s fake and you want to slap her, but you just tighten your grip on your holopad instead.

“Nya. What are you doing here?” You ask, trying for polite at least and failing horribly. Poe smirks at you over the shelf he’s studying.

“Looking for you, actually.” She says, heading over and you internally groan.

“What did I do?” You ask and she laughs lightly.

“Nothing yet.” She promises. “Your plants are in bin Cin17.” She says, handing over the packet she’s holding.

“Oh. Thanks.”

She smiles at you and turns to walk away. You glance at Poe and he shrugs, coming back over. “That was odd.” He comments.

“Odd? That’s literally the nicest she’s ever been to me.” You sigh, turning back to your bench.

“I wonder why.”

“Maybe she wants something? Maybe she saw my outright panic attack in the dining hall and is getting off on my suffering.” You sigh.

“Or. On a slightly less negative note. Maybe she missed you? Maybe she realized she’s in love with you and now she wants to make it right and have babies with you.” He says and by the end, you’re laughing much harder than you should be. You double over, grasping your knees, your entire midsection aching for various reasons.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me rip my stitches.” You gasp.

“It wasn’t that funny.” He mumbles.

“Oh man, you’re a funny guy, Dameron.” You pant, standing up and wiping your forehead.

“Thanks.” He mutters dryly. “May I ask what, exactly, was so funny about that?”

“Nya. Liking me? She’s so into dick, it’s all she talks about sometimes. Everyone who has one is in her sights. Especially you, Commander. And then babies with me? Come on. Get serious.”

“Just her? Or anyone in general is unbelievable?” He asks, an odd, stiff texture to his voice.

“I dunno. Anyone? I never really thought I’d make a good mom.” You shrug, heading for the containers now that you’re back under control.

“Really? I do.” He says and your face heats.

“Moot point at the moment. Bryce doesn’t want kids.” You say and he groans.

“Just when I think…” he rubs his face. “I gotta go. I’ll see you later.” He mumbles, swiftly heading for the door.

“Wait, Poe!” You call, half turning.

Too late. He’s gone.

***

You’ve never been punched before. Training was always hand to hand, blocking blows or fighting with weapons. They don’t teach you how to take a punch, or five, or twenty.

It doesn’t hurt at first. The impacted spot on your cheek just goes numb. You can feel the cut on the inside from your teeth against the sensitive tissue, but it doesn’t hurt. Yet.

Then after a couple minutes, it turns into a white hot pain. Couple that with fists landing all over your body, and you’re in pain like you’ve never felt before. Tears spill over your cheeks as the fist lands against your nose, cracking your head back against your prison table. You can’t see, can’t feel your face. Your mouth fills with blood, coating your tongue and spilling down your chin as you gasp for air. You can feel your lips split in different places.

There isn’t a part of you that doesn’t hurt, but you hold onto Poe. He didn’t give them anything, so you can’t either. You can’t let him have suffered for nothing.

The trooper stops, rolling his shoulder. “Answer me. Where is your base?”

You spit the blood out of your mouth at his feet. “That all you got? I was just getting into it.” You say and he grumbles, turning to leave for the time being.

You close your aching eyes and drop your head against the support. It’s not comfortable by any stretch of the word, but it’s better than having to hold your head up anymore.

The image from your nightmare flashes in front of your eyes, Poe fighting the invisible enemy, only now it’s not so invisible. A StormTrooper is wielding the blade, plunging it deep into Poe’s heart.

You jerk upright in your bed, upsetting your holopad and sending it crashing to the floor. You flip on the light, unnerved and feeling like you're not alone in your room. But there doesn’t seem to be anything there. Just your clothes on the floor.

You push yourself to your feet, not feeling safe here, and grab your blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders. You want to go see Poe, make sure he’s okay, be positive your nightmares haven’t gotten him yet.

But he doesn’t want to see you. Having avoided you for the rest of the day, you get the hint. A moment of weakness. That’s what that kiss was. You were there and he needed someone. Could have been Nya, probably for all he would have minded. Any port in the storm.

So, you bypass his room and head for the tower where you ate your lunch. It’s quiet, dark, you can see anything coming for you. You climb the steps slowly, feeling the familiar pinch of your stitches. They’re still ugly, crude, jagged. Maybe it’s good that Poe doesn’t really want you. No one could possibly love the new mutilated you. Bryce hasn’t seen them yet, either. You’re positive that the second he does, he’ll run for the hills.

Maker, you’re selfish.

You push open the door and a body in the tower makes you freeze. “Oh.” You mumble, realizing it’s Poe. “Sorry. I’ll leave.” You rush, ducking back down.

“Stay.” He croaks and you hesitate. “I can’t sleep. Stay and talk to me?”

“You sure you want me to?” You ask.

“I’d rather it be you than anyone else.” He admits.

You feel like leaves on the wind as you climb the rest of the way up. Swirling around in chaotic confusion. You don’t know which way is up, what to trust. You sit a little ways away, back against the wall, facing him.

“What do you want me to talk about?” You ask finally.

He drags a stick through the dirt, making scratch drawings. “I told you some stuff earlier. Spilled some of my guts. Anything you wanna tell me?” He asks finally.

“Yes.” You answer. It’s harder than you think to get these words out. “I…” you close your mouth, thinking about where to start.

“Not easy. To spill your secrets.” He muses. The pale moonlight ghosts across his face. He looks terrible. Tired, hurt, miserable.

“Anything you wanna ask me?” You prompt. “Maybe I can say it that way.”

He looks at you warily. “Will you tell me the truth?”

“Always.” You answer immediately.

“Why did you kiss me in the river?” He asks. “I’ve been thinking over it on a loop and I just can’t figure it out.”

“It felt… right. I needed to do it. I wanted to do it. You’ve always been the best person in the world to me, always taking care of me and looking out for me. And on that planet, I was losing my fucking m-mind, seeing things, hearing things. You were so patient, so kind, so… you. And I could feel tension. Not in a bad way, but pulling me towards you. I’m so sorry, Poe. I know you said I didn’t do it, but I can’t shake the feeling that if I hadn’t, if I hadn’t distracted you, you would have heard those troopers coming. You’ve never been so compromised on a mission before until you go on one with me. I fucked up so bad and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for hurting you like that.” You ramble, the dam broken and the words spill out everywhere. He doesn’t move in the shadows.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. Your ears start to ring in the dead silence before he speaks again. “So, why kiss me in the lab?”

You sniffle quietly. “You admitted you wanted to do it again, and it’s been one of the dominating thoughts in my head since you saved me in that closet. I want to kiss you. And I like kissing you, but… the guilt… it just keeps reminding me that I’m hurting everyone. Every time I kiss you, I hurt Bryce. Every time I mention him, I hurt you. I can’t get it right. I’m turning into a plague.” You press your lips together.

“You had a nightmare in the cave. What was it?” He asks. You’re not even sure if he’s actually listening to your words, he gives no indication of hearing them.

“I,” you pause, having to think back that far. “I was hovering over myself as I slept. You were saying something but I couldn’t really hear it. Then I went outside, but it was into a First Order ship. And then I saw the tables we were attached to. And then two men fighting with lightsabers. And then…” you cut off, swallowing thickly. This part you remember, even though you wish you could forget it. “A-and then you. Y-you were fighting something I c-couldn’t see. It had a bl-blade and it killed you, stabbed you th-through the heart.” You say, gasping for breath. It feels like the surrounding air is crushing you. “I w-woke up and you weren’t there, I pa-panicked.” You twist your fingers into your blanket, hiding your face.

“Do you want to kiss me again?” He asks finally.

“Poe,”

“Do you? If you say no, I’ll never bring it up again.” He promises.

“Of course, I do. But it’s not that easy. I keep hurting you. I don’t know how not to. And being around you, it makes me happy, it makes it easier to breathe. I don’t wanna lose you. I couldn’t survive it.” You admit shamelessly.

“You won’t lose me. I won’t leave you.” He says. “One more thing.” He starts.

“Okay?”

“Do you hate the way dickhead doesn’t know how you like your caf?” He asks and you crack a tearful smile.

“Yes. It’s not hard.” You mumble.

“Come here.” He holds out his arms. “Come sit with me.”

You scoot over, resting your head on his shoulder as he spreads your blanket out over the both of you.

“I need you, too, you know. I can’t lose you, either. And if that means I have to kick Bryce from here to Tatooine, I will.” He says, nuzzling into your hair.

“Please don’t. You’ve been hurt enough on my account.” You close your eyes to him stroking your hair.

“No promises, sweetheart.” He's quiet for so long, you nearly fall asleep. “But I’m not gonna stop kissing you.” He murmurs against your hair.

With one last conscious thought, you dig into your pocket, reaching for his hand with your other one. Sleep is making your limbs like lead, heavy and clumsy. You feel him chuckle a little, placing his wrist in your fumbling palm. You place the chain in his hand, curling his fingers around it.

“Meant to give it to you earlier,” you mumble, almost certain you formed actual words.

“Y/N, ” he chokes, squeezing you tight. “Thank you.”

***

“You have to eat something.” He protests, guiding you down off the ladder. His chain is back around his neck, shimmering against his tan skin as it always has. Some day, he's going to give it to someone; someone he wants to spend the rest of forever with. Someone who isn't broken like you. Someone who actually deserves him. And you'll try to be happy for him, but you know it'll break your heart.

“Can’t you just… go get it for me?” You ask, feeling your hands start to shake at the thought of the crowd.

He smiles softly, brushing your hair back. “Sweetheart. No.”

“Poe…” you start and he cups your face.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, okay? I’ll be right there the whole time.” He promises. “But you have to eat. You need your friends. They miss you.” He looks around, noting the empty pathway. “If you need to leave, we’ll leave. Just say the word.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s gonna be loud.” You protest as he takes your hand and leads you towards the commissary and dining hall.

“This early?” He scoffs. He pulls you along gently. You could stop him, you could let the tears free that have been simmering just under the surface since you got back. You know he wouldn’t push you to do it if you’re not ready.

But… he’s gone in there, he’s seen his friends. If he can do it, you can, too. You take an extra step, falling in next to him instead of being pulled by him and he smiles down at you proudly.

“There’s my girl.” He says softly. He holds your hand right up until you stop outside the doors. He lifts your hand to his mouth softly, eyes never leaving your face. “I’ll be right next to you.” He promises. You nod and he lowers your hand, reluctantly letting it go until not even your fingertips are touching.

He pulls open the door and lets you walk inside first. He doesn’t shove you in, instead, he waits for you to take a deep breath, smiling down at you until you straighten with a false sense of confidence, and step inside. He follows you, just barely touching your arm as he guides you to the line of food.

Despite his assurances that the room would be mostly empty, with shift changes and missions leaving early, the room is fairly crowded. You can feel his eyes on you, along with about a hundred others, but you feel better today. Stronger, even. You can do this.

You hope.

Poe picks up two trays and starts to put food on both, watching your face for positive or negative signs. You could do this yourself, you’re perfectly capable, but you like him waiting on you a little bit. Just this one time, let him dote on you.

He finds an empty table, just the two of you and he sits across from you, foot tapping against yours. They trickle over, slowly, one at a time. Your friends come to sit next to you. But this time, they don’t swarm you. They sit next to you, or next to Poe, talking to him about something trivial and you’re so grateful. It lets you get used to it again, being around people, acting human again.

You watch Poe, listening to him joke with Snap; Beaumont sets an apple on your tray as he tells Poe some gossip. And Poe sits there, listening and laughing to all of it. He interacts, partakes, and never once does he look uncomfortable or like he wants to bolt. You don’t know how he does it.

And then Lieutenant Connix walks behind him. She leans down to say something in his ear, her hand squeezing his shoulder as she talks. His hand lifts to cover her own as he twists his face to listen. After a second, he nods and she walks away.

You’ve always liked her, she’s friendly, smart, ambitious. But maybe you need to rethink your ideas. She walks quickly, her hips swaying, and you huff under your breath. Since when are she and Poe so close?

You try to listen, to distract yourself, but you can’t tear your eyes away from where the pretty girl disappeared through. Poe’s foot taps against yours and you flinch, looking up at him slowly. He smiles softly, his eyes falling to your ignored food.

You roll your eyes, picking apart your roll and taking small nibbles. After a couple minutes, Connix is forgotten as Beaumont regales the table with a story of how he got trapped in a wedding dress on Coruscant.

Soon, you’re laughing along with them. You forgot what this feels like, your face hurts from smiling so much. Poe’s beautiful eyes are on you, his own grin infectious.

A crack echoes across the big room and you jump, hands grabbing the table, ready to run. Your heart pounds in your ears and it’s like your vision completely leaves you. Snap’s hand settles on yours closest to him as he shouts something. Your brain slowly fades back in and you realize Poe has your other hand across the table and Beaumont is out of his chair, peering across the room.

Two mechs collided, neither paying attention to what was in front of them, their trays falling to the cement. That was the cracking noise.

Poe’s hand is shaking just slightly, hardly noticeable, as it covers yours, but you feel it. You twist your hand into his and he glances over at you. You smile softly, tracing your thumb over the back of his hand.

Beau sits back down next to you, his eyes searching your face for a minute before he grins. “Never boring, eh, Y/N?” He asks, his hand resting on your shoulder.

“I guess not.” You answer. You pull your hands back and pick up the apple. Poe is quicker than you thought possible, his favorite knife out and the handle pressed into your palm before you can even realize you need one.

You cut the apple in half, core out the middle on both halves and give the other half to your best friend. He’s abnormally quiet for a minute as he chews, and you wonder if maybe he’s not as okay as you thought.

“Wexley, what’s on the agenda today?” You ask Snap, half turning to face him, giving Poe time to recover.

“Well, I have a mission the day after tomorrow. So, I need to get my ship ready. There’s a part that’s being problematic. I have some mechs that are gonna look at it today and see if they can fix it.” He sighs.

“Well, if they have any problems, you can always come find me and see if I can help.” You offer and he grins.

“I just might do that.”

Once Poe is sure you’ve eaten all you possibly can without getting sick, he collects your trays and you join him to deposit them before leaving the room with a wave to your friends.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks and you slip your hand into his.

“Thank you for making me go.” You say, leaning into his shoulder.

“Of course.” He smiles. “And… thank you.” He sighs, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand. You cast your mind around, trying to figure out what he could possibly be thanking you for.

“I didn’t do anything.” You frown.

“With that stupid tray… you… fuck. How are you always so strong exactly when I need you to be?”

“Poe, I was ready to bolt. The only thing stopping me was you and Snap.” You tell him. “If you hadn’t grabbed my hand to keep me there, all you would have seen was my dust as I hightailed it out of there.”

He smiles softly, but it’s weak, a little broken. “I didn’t grab your hand to keep you there. I grabbed it to keep me there.” He admits, pausing outside the door to the lab.

You stare up at him, realization dawning much too slowly. “Poe,” you place a hand on his cheek and he leans into it, eyes fluttering closed. “Anything I can do, anything you need-I’ll always be here. You’re not alone.” You whisper and he pulls you close, kissing you softly.

Every time feels like the first time. His lips press against yours like they’ve known each other forever, no hesitation. He tips your head back, towering over you as you hold onto his shirt. His tongue is soft on yours, not domineering and controlling the way… someone else’s is… your subconscious blanks on the name, but it doesn’t matter, not when Poe is kissing you like his very life depends on it. No, like your life depends on it.

He pulls away, breathing slightly faster, forehead pressed to yours. His eyes are closed, but yours are open, drinking in every detail of his beautiful face. “Me and you, kid.” He agrees and you punch his arm, a smile already pulling at your lips. His eyes fly open and he rubs his arm.

“We’re the same age.” You glower and he laughs.

“I know. But you’re so much shorter.” He puts his hand on top of your head and you slap it away, turning towards the door with a huff. You’re about to swipe your keycard, but he pulls you back, plucking it out of your pocket. He swipes it and pushes the door open, letting you step in first.

“Will you stay?” You ask, reaching for your log books.

“Yeah. I don’t have anything else to do. I’m still technically on leave, recovering from…” he trails off, but you get the picture.

“Alright.” You start checking off your supplies and notes while he moves around your lab. You don’t pay him much attention, there isn’t much trouble he can get into. But you feel better having him around.

He looks through every box on the supply shelves, every glass container. You look over at him, catching his eye being magnified through a specimen jar. He looks so ridiculous that you can’t help but snort at him. He grins and straightens up, coming over next to you.

“Didn’t find anything you liked?” You tease, flipping through the last of your notes.

“Oh, I found plenty I like. Just nothing I can take right now.” He sighs wistfully. Your face heats, so you keep your gaze directly away from him. He chuckles and sits in the spinning chair next to your bench.

Chapter Nine

Everything Tag List

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[milliumizoomi]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓡𝓲𝓭𝓮!

Pairings: A! KiriTodoBakuDeku x O! Black Fem! Reader

A/n: Ok so like this is my first actual writing on tumblr so I hope you like it!

Synopsis: You, your friends and all your pups went out and it took a turn none of you were expecting.

Warnings: Staight fluff so far.

Masterlist

Part 1 ⇢ Up Next

You could safely say that this was NOT on your agenda today.

So how it started??-

You were at home with your 4 pups while you’re husbands were hard at work being pro heroes. You were just minding your business in the kitchen cleaning while you’re pups were in the living room watching the tv. You continued to monitor them, knowing 2 out your 4 cuties have the tendency to get rowdy sometimes. You heard a knock on the door and when you dried your hands to go and open the door you were suprised to see your 2 best friends and their pups at the door. Now BTW their both omegas and yk since they have pups that means they have alphas too.. so you can only IMAGINE the hell that would break lose if your alphas smelled another alpha on you.

“You guys? What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming over” You said as you unwrapped the apron from around you body and pulled your 4c hair out of the messy puff it was in. “Girl go get you and your lil pups ready we’re going out!” One of your best friends say while bouncing around at the doorway.

You stared at them dumbfounded. Like y’all serious???

“Go!Go!go!” They yell in sync. “Damn ok! I gotta tell my alphas tho” you tell them. “Do what you gotta do girl! Just hurry!” They say. You roll your eyes and giggle. They went back to their cars to handle some other things they needed to do and told you to call when you were done since they know your alphas would trip if they came home with a new smell in the house. You texted your alphas and told them you and the pups wouldn’t be home, completely forgetting to tell them where exactly you were going and also forgetting just how bad they could get if you left the house without telling them beforehand. “Come on babies we’re gonna go out with mommy’s friends.” You tell your 4 pups. “Ok mommy!” The little pups answered.

Fyi you had 3 little boys and 1 little girl. And the boys were literally JUST like their fathers when it came to their sister. PROTECTIVE.

The oldest of the quadruplets, Izuko, had the personality of STRICTLY Bakugou. He had Heterochromic eyes and sharp teeth. His left eyes was red and his right eye was blue. He has black hair. The second oldest, Katsuo , had the personality of both Bakugou and Kirishima. His eyes are green and freckles and sharp teeth. His hair is split like Todoroki’s and the colors are blonde and white. The third oldest, Haru, had the personality of Deku. He tends to be outgoing but quiet sometimes. His eyes were red and he also had freckles. His hair was black with green tips. The last lil pup was your little girl, Ami. She had the personality of you and Todoroki. She also had Hetorochromic eyes. Her left eye was gray and her right was green. Her hair was black with brown tips. They were all light skinned lil babies and had inherited you hair texture with a mix of all their fathers. They were all 4 years old.

After like 30 minutes you get all your little pups ready then tell them to go in the living room. Your oldest son, Izuko, led his younger siblings to the play room to wait for you. 20 minutes pass and you finish getting ready. Your hair was styled in two huge puffs and your egdes were laid. Forgot to mention that u also laid styled you kids hair too and laid ur little girls edges too-. You got ready and got some snack for the ups and left. Btw y’all must be wondering how the hell u carry for kids in one car.. well the car was huge ok like it had like 6 seats and that’s just for you and the kids too😭🤚🏽

©Property of Miashimaa. Please don’t rectify, repost or modify with my permission.

Taglist: Open (just let me know if you would like to be added)

[mirkosintern]

Crawlin’ back to you

pairing: dabi x fem!reader

genre: smut with a lil angst and fluff if you squint

notes: reader is a member of the lov, set in the meta liberation army arc (before the war!), possessive dabi, wowee this is my first work!! I never expected myself to be able to write a piece but here we are ehehe this was inspired by a certain tiktok actually. U may have already noticed but the title is from the song do I wanna know? by the arctic monkeys<3

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, breeding, cum play, dubcon-ish?, toxic relationship, degradation, vulgar language, alcohol

word count: 3k

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That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day Crawlin’ back to you Ever thought of callin’ when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too busy bein’ yours to fall for somebody new Now I've thought it through

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Dabi wasn’t one to do feelings. He’s screwed numerous women, but they were nothing more than some toys to fulfill his sexual needs. Neither did he want to have feelings, nor did he need to. Afterall, his side hoes who begged to stay with him even after all the degradation he’s given them disgusted him the most. He would snicker at their pathetic attempts and cut them off ruthlessly.

However, you were an only exception.

No, he did not have feelings for you, he swears he never did and never will. But you were different from his other disposable sluts--he kept you around. He didn’t ghost you, instead, he kept coming back. It is only because you’re a member of the lov as well, he thinks. You are easy to access since you’re always around the lov base, and he doesn’t even have to worry about getting caught by civilians or stupid bitches who suddenly decide to turn him into the police. You guys were practically co-workers with benefits, fuck buddies where the “buddies” part is questionable.

Dabi didn’t mind that he made an exception for you until that night. That very night where you sleepily decided to crawl into his arms after a rough round and whispered him how you loved the rough texture of his skin against yours. That very night where you pressed delicate kisses beneath his jaw. The moment of intimacy—making his heart pound and warmth spread beneath his cold skin—was threatening. You were threatening.

That’s where he cut you off completely. He did not knock on your bedroom door located in the lov base anymore. He stopped sending those “you up?” texts at 3am. He didn’t even lock eyes with you or talk to you anymore.

It feels as if something heavy dropped inside you, squashing your heart to the point where it’s painful. You try your best to ignore the pang in your chest and remind yourself that you guys were nothing more than co-workers with benefits. However, the enduring heartburn only functions to make you realize how attached you were to him. He’s Dabi, the biggest scumbag you will ever meet, what did you expect? What were you thinking? It should be no surprise this happened, right? But having to encounter his stupidly handsome face every day was not doing any help. You are a girl with dignity, you tell yourself, trying your best to ignore his strong scent of campfire and cologne drowning you every time you guys are in the same room.

The pain is suffocating you for weeks, and you finally decide to completely get over him. The night Dabi brings a bimbo to his room and fucks her loud enough for everyone in the lov to hear—for you to hear—you’re done with everything. You step outside, get drunk, do anything to numbify the pain the raven-haired guy has caused you, and even meet a nice-looking guy who seems to be interested in you.

You are doing good without Dabi.

You don’t need Dabi anymore.

You are not letting him get to your head.

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A party.

League of villains is all about privacy, but they also started having some fun after uniting with the meta liberation army. Now they had sufficient money, people and place to throw parties every now and then without the danger of getting caught by civilians. Afterall, a number of heroes were in their side as well.

“Not gonna lie, you guys do know how to host parties.” Keigo smirks, picking up a glass of bourbon whiskey. “It’s fuckin’ lame,” Dabi answers as he downs a glass of liquor.

“So, what happened with y/n?” Keigo throws a suggestive smile.

“The hell you mean what happened with her?” Dabi frowns.

“Y’know, didn’t you guys used to be a thing or something?”

“Nah, she was an occasional fuck and that’s it.”

“Oh really? The Dabi I know never fucks a same bitch twice though. I thought she was something special.”

“Special?”

“Yeah, thought maybe you actually wanted her.”

A smug grin appears on Dabi’s face. “Never even liked her.”

“Have you seen her and her new boyfriend?”

The smile is quick to vanish from his face after hearing the word boyfriend. Dabi’s eyes widen, immediately glaring at Keigo. Before he could say anything, Keigo tilts his chin to point something.

“There they are.”

Dabi turns his head only to find you clinging onto some guy’s arm. Your cheeks are flushed –a pretty, pink glow on your face—as you bat your eyelashes at the guy. Bubbly giggles escape from your lips while you stare at him through half-lidded eyes. The guy’s arm is secured around your waists, pulling you closer to him.

Dabi sees red.

His entire body freezes as his grip around the liquor glass tighten. Dabi doesn’t say anything for a moment, but there is no way Keigo wouldn’t pick up how his cerulean eyes are flaming at the sight. “Well, I thought you knew.” Keigo pats Dabi’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t matter anyways right? You never liked her.”

“…Right.” Dabi takes another sip from the liquor, his eyes still fixed to you.

Keigo’s words are true; at least they are supposed to be true. Dabi didn’t have feelings for you. He doesn’t do romance. No feelings were ever involved with any of the women he’s slept with, and he made sure of it. It was so clear for Dabi without a question.

But why is it unable for him to erase the sight of you with some guy as he forces himself to sleep that night? Why are your sweet giggles echoing his head? Why can’t he get rid of the thought of you in that tight, black dress that perfectly complements the curves of your body? Why is the moment where the guy places his hand on your inner thigh replaying in his head? Why are thoughts of you messing with his mind?

“Fucking hell.”

Dabi gets up. This was fucking annoying. You were truly fucking annoying.

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You tilt your head to check the glowing digits of your digital clock on the nightstand. 2:15am. It’s late, and you haven’t even taken off the dress you wore to the party. You are too tired both physically and emotionally. You’ve done quite a decent job in entertaining the man who’s accompanied you through the whole party, but it was truly an energy-consuming task. You and him walked around as if you guys were the happiest couple in the party; but the truth is that you guys aren’t even properly dating yet. Solely because you have constantly been refusing to properly answer him asking you to be his girlfriend. It’s not that he’s bad looking or anything, but the idea of being with him just doesn’t sit right with you. Ever since you’ve met him, he couldn’t keep his hands off you without asking you anything about consent. You always had to pull his hand away with an uncomfortable smile, yet he never took a hint. However, when a dating rumor about you and him started and spread quickly, you didn’t try to correct anything. Maybe it was because you wanted to pull out a reaction from a certain villain. Maybe your unusual actions at today’s party; clinging onto the guy and laughing at every single word he spoke; was to make Dabi witness how happy you were.

 Truthfully, you were dying inside.

 What was even worse was that none of your attempts seemed to bring an ounce of reaction from Dabi. When have you become so pathetic and desperate? You feel tears welling up in your eyes, hot and burning, but you don’t want to cry. Not for an asshole like him. You take out your phone, find the guy’s name, and text him that you don’t want to see him anymore. You feel a little guilty, thinking that you may have used him to provoke something from Dabi, but your thoughts are too worn out for you to comprehend anything. You flop onto your bed and bury your face in your pillow. You huff out a deep sigh, and the soft texture of your cotton pillow feels warm on your cheeks. In all honesty, you were thinking about Dabi the whole time you were at the party. Whenever the guy’s hand creeped up your thighs or gripped on your ass, you imagined it was Dabi’s, trying your hardest to feel something from the contact.

 You weren’t over Dabi. You never were. Realization hurts, leaving a sour feeling in your mouth.

 Your body shoots up at the sudden, loud slamming sound emerged from your door. Your teary eyes widen at the lean man slamming the door shut. “Dabi?” You ask, not believing your eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?” Without an answer, Dabi’s one hand reaches for your throat as his other hand grips your wrist. His large body is towering over you, and you feel your bed shift as he dips one knee in the mattress. His sapphire eyes pierce through your soul, and you can feel his raging anger just from looking at him.

“You’re such a pain in the ass, y’know that?”

“Dabi, what are you-“

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, pulling you in for a heated kiss. Your lips open reflexively, enabling him to deepen the kiss. The kiss is aggressive, and he doesn’t know whether it is because of his anger or his pent-up desires towards you that he has been suppressing. The kiss gets sloppier over time, hot and wet with saliva and tongue. He lets go of the grip on your wrist and starts tracing your inner thigh with his thumb, and you let out a soft moan. You finally pull away from the kiss to catch your breath, but he doesn’t cease to caress your thigh. Instead, he lowers himself to your ear. “You seem to really love thigh touches, don’t you?” His low voice and hot breath brushing the shell of your ear sends chills down your spine.

“Huh?”

“I always knew you were a slut, but never knew you were this much of a whore. You would bend over any guy who offers you some touches, right?”

Tears swell in your eyes again at his vile words, but it’s hard to talk when his knuckles are repeatedly brushing your clit.

“I’m… not a slut…nngh.” Suppressed moans escape your lips.

“Yeah? Why are you making those sounds then?”

“Dabi…”

He yanks your dress up and dips two fingers inside your lace panties, making you let out a weak yelp. Dabi raises his brows with a smug grin on his face.

“Oh, so she indeed is a slut huh? You get this fucking wet from a kiss?”

His two digits start pumping inside you, and you grip on his white shirt at the sudden sensation. Your gasps and moans get louder, and you suddenly feel his wet lips against your neck. Dabi sucks hard, making sure to leave dark purple marks from your jaw to your neck and shoulder, as he repeats the step of curling his fingers and pulling them inside and out your hole. “Dabi…too fast.” You whine out. “Yeah?” A sadistic grin appears on Dabi’s face. “Be a good slut and take what I give you.” His thumb reaches for your clit, making your legs shiver.

“Nngh…stop, I’m gonna… Dabi I’m gonna cum.”

“Stop? You want me to stop?”

“No!”

“Do you deserve it though?” he slows his pace while teasing your clit. “Beg.”

It’s humiliating, really—but do you have any other choice when you are this close?

“Please, Dabi… I’ll be your good slut. Please let me cum!” Your desperate cries have him pumping his fingers fast again, and soon you’re seeing white. Hot drops of release coat Dabi’s fingers as he pulls out.

“Say ah.”

“A-ah.”

You obey, and Dabi sticks his digits inside your mouth. Your mouth wraps around them immediately, sucking as if it’s a pacifier. “Good girl,” Dabi says as he pats your head, and it makes your stomach swoop with sick pride.

The bulge in his pants is becoming painful, and he contemplates on fucking your mouth. But he’s too impatient; He feels the need to abuse your cunt right now. He wants to hear your screams and cries as he proves who you belong to.

“Take that off.” Dabi gestures at your dress, and you start undressing as he demands. Dabi pulls down his sweatpants and boxers, causing his cock to spring out. It’s so pretty, you think, and you can’t help but admire his red tip, glistening with precum. He pumps his length a few times and lines it up with your entrance. You inhale a sharp gasp as you feel his whole length inside you. It feels so full; it feels as if he’s gonna split you in half if he starts moving.

“Ah, too big.”

“I know.” Dabi looks down on you. “Take it like a little slut you are.”

Before you could even talk back, he is moving inside you. Your moans blend with the noise of the bed creaking; a perfectly harmonized orchestra to Dabi’s ears.

You knew Dabi wasn’t one to prep you or go slow, but you feel like he’s going way rougher than usual. His wild thrusts have your head lolling backwards, and Dabi does not miss the chance to take a hard bite on your neck. You scream out of both pain and pleasure, and you feel two hot streams of tears on your flushed cheeks.

“Aww, she’s crying.” Dabi says in a mocking tone. “Bet you love the pain.”

Humiliation fills your chest and you turn your head away, but Dabi quickly grabs your chin with one hand, forcing you to directly face him.

“Who’s the one making you feel this full?” he asks.

“Y-you.”

“Did he ever make you feel this way?”

Wait, he? Who does he mean by he? Your alleged boyfriend? Could it be possible that Dabi was doing this out of jealousy? You try to comprehend, but it’s impossible for you to think clearly, not when Dabi is fucking you stupid. “No!” You shout.

Dabi’s free hand reaches for your clit and starts rubbing circles. “Tell me, who does this pussy belong to?”

“You…” You try to answer, but he suddenly lifts up your lower body and slams into your cervix in the right angle. It has you moaning even louder, your insides spasming around his cock.

“I can’t hear you.” He smirks sadistically.

“You, Dabi, it belongs to you! I belong to you!” You’re screaming his name like it’s the only word you know, making his cock twitch. “That’s right. You are all for me, all for me to use. Just a pathetic little slut for my cock.” A satisfactory grin appears on Dabi’s face.

Dabi lowers his body down and grunts directly into your ear as he thrusts even faster. The sound of his skin slamming into yours is so erotic, and you can feel how close you are.

“You wanna cum huh?” His words have you nodding frantically, babbling incoherent words. Yes Dabi—wanna cum so bad—wanna be yours—wanna be your good girl—please, dabi.

“Then do it. Make a mess on my cock.”

“Nngh, Dabi!” You scream out his name as euphoria washes down your body. His release follows you soon enough, painting your walls white. You feel warmth filling your belly while his groans echo in your ear. You’re still sobbing and panting after he pulls out, without any energy left to move. As your blurry vision starts getting clearer, you feel his warm skin and the sting of his cold staples against your back. His long arms wrap around your oversensitive body, pulling you closer to him.

“You’re messing with my head.” Dabi rests his forehead on the back of your shoulder.

“Huh?”

You’re confused, but Dabi doesn’t elaborate. His ego doesn’t let him do such thing.

“When you said you belonged to me, did you mean it?”

You bite your lower lip, not knowing how to respond to his sudden question. Millions of unspoken words and feelings are hanging in the back of your throat, creating a huge lump. You swallow them all and spit out a question instead. “Do you want me to belong to you?”

“Yeah.” Your eyes widen at his unexpected response, butterflies fluttering inside your chest. “Be mine.” His low voice vibrates against your soft skin. Your heart melts at his words, and you cannot stop your feelings from overspilling anymore. At that moment you both realize; you and Dabi were meant to crawl back to each other, no matter how hard you both try and struggle.

“I’m yours.” You smile, “I’m all yours.”

[emotionalsuppork]

❤ Tendou ❤       Just a dream

NSFW- cockwarming

tw- mentions of panic attack, vague description of nightmare. 

You were running.

From what you didn’t know.

It was dark and you were winded but you couldn’t make yourself stop. The only thing you were aware of was the blazing panic searing across your skin, every one of your nerve endings on fire, heat coursing through you.

Something was wrong. Something was missing. Something was behind you. Or was it in front?

Were you running from your demise? Or to it?

There was a moment when where the earth below you shook, just a moment, but it sent you tumbling down nevertheless.

You hit the ground hard, but you didn't feel the impact. You tried to move your arms to push up, but they wouldn't budge. Thoroughly invested in trying to trigger some sort of movement in your body, you startled and screamed when the earth shook again, shaking you along with it.

This time it didn't stop shaking and shaking and there was something missing, someone missing, someone calling, calling for you to-

"Wake up!"

All at once you were upright and free of restraint.

Blinking, finally awake, you looked around, wildly searching for-

Satori, who was sat up next to you with big hands hovering over your shoulders and wide, concerned eyes.

You blinked once, twice more. It was only when he said your name did you break. Shattering too suddenly to stop. You wept into your hands, Satori too afraid to touch you without explicit permission.

A moment passes before he ever so delicately brushed his fingers over your shoulder, immediately retracting at your gasp, only to swiftly catch you when you throw yourself into his arms. Tears were dripping down his bare shoulder as he rocked you. Starting to remember your dream more vividly, you began to choke on every inhale. Satori, hearing your uneven wheezing and anticipating a possible panic attack, quickly pulled back and yanked you into his lap to face you properly.

"Baby? Baby, look at me now, don't look away, just look right at me. Good, so good. Now listen," Satori grabbed your hands and stared into your eyes in utmost seriousness, "You need to calm down angel. You need to calm down so you can breathe."

Satori was worried he lost you to your own anxiety because you just looked back at him, still hyperventilating, still crying, still terrified. He could tell that you also didn't truly know why you were scared, which just broke his heart even more. He tried again, squeezing your hands tighter.

"You need to focus on something else puppy. You need to-" This time you interrupted him.

"I can’t!" Your voice cracked and warbled, "I-I ju-just I-"

Satori's mind was racing through anything and everything he has ever done to make you feel better. From bad days, to skinned knees, to head colds. Nothing seemed applicable, everything too minor or just plain useless. He randomly thought back to that one fight you two had a few months ago. He made you cry and you, getting worked up, had started to hyperventilate a little. Now at the time you were mostly just angry at him, so you decided to channel all your angry energy out on him, taking him by surprise. He was, however, very willing and that particular argument was solved in the shower, hours later, when you two were exhausted and covered in each others cum.

Disgusted with himself for thinking of something sexual when you were scared and fussing in his lap, Satori was quick to shake away the memory, but paused. You calmed down oddly quickly when he had gotten his hand in your panties. Hell, your breathing had even regulated from fast, rattling gulps to soft, even pants within a few long moments of him shoving his tongue in your mouth.

He paused again, sighing at his only idea so far.

He really fucking hopes this works.

"It’s okay. It's okay angel. I’ll make it better, I'm gonna make it all better. Just trust me and open your legs, Okay? Open 'em up real wide for me puppy," You let out a series of choked whimpers, but you follow his direction, letting Satori turn you slightly, so that your back is mostly pressed to his chest, but angling you so that he can still easily reach your mouth. He helps lift you and slides your panties down, setting them on the nightstand.

Your legs now spread far, he sets to work on getting you wet and toying with your clit. You're slowly unwinding in his lap, but it's not good enough, the tears and deep gasps for air still coming. Dipping his fingers into your hole, he was met with a familiar slick texture. He didn't pause his movements but his mind halted once more to think back to earlier that evening.

Did the two of you clean up properly? He always makes sure to take care of that after, always.

Then he's remembering how adamant and insistent you were that his cum stay inside you.

He groans lowly.

At least this was going to be a little smoother on you.

Satori shifts enough to grind his cock against your ass through the thin boxers he wore to bed, slipping a hand underneath your tank top to roll a nipple between two fingers, licking into your mouth as he goes. A couple minutes pass and he's turning you to face him, lifting your hips and impaling you on his dick. A surprised noise leaves you, but then you're sinking down more, and settling comfortably into him, moving your legs to wrap around him in favor of the pressure straddling puts on your shaky knees. It's another few more minutes of slow grinding before you can talk, which Satori spends stroking your hair and mouthing at your neck and chest.

"Tori," his head shot up to look at you, "'m s'full."

Satori sighed, relieved that you were doing better, and kissed your forehead.

"I know you are puppy, I know. And I'm sorry I didn't ask, but I needed you to calm down."

You slowly shook your head, your eyes rolling back both from pleasure and fatigue, mouth hung open, tongue just barely peeking past your lips. He pressed another relieved kiss to your forehead and your head lolled onto his chest.

You mumbled something he couldn't catch, but ultimately stayed there and, more importantly, stayed quiet.

Several minutes went by of Satori dragging kisses up and down your face and neck, sucking bruises every fourth or fifth one. He waited a little longer before deeming you asleep and then moving some pillows behind him so he could lay back and prop you up on top of him, worried that laying down flat would strain your neck, rearranging you as he shifted.

He had just gotten comfortable when you lifted your head and gazed into his eyes. He watched you watch him for a moment, not even sure if you could actually see him you looked so out of it and dazed. Then you yawned loudly, directly in his face, and he snorted and laughed, finally able to relax back into the pillows, knowing that you were okay for the time being. You laid your head back down and he wrapped his arms more firmly around you.

Now if only you could stop fluttering around his dick so he could go back to sleep.

[jean-kayak]

So...ahaha...*holds out credit card* Head cannons of Aizawa, Hawks, Bakugo, and Shinsou reacting to seeing their chubby black twin babies after a long day of work? The babies have their dad’s hair or eye color but they got the skin and hair texture of their Mama. 💳💥💳💥💳💥💳💥💥💥💳💥

This is the cutest request in the world anon

🧣This mans just wants to crash on the bed

🧣This particular day at work was really taxing physically and he's literally running on fumes

🧣He can barely make it through the door without passing out

🧣Poor guy doesn't even have enough energy to announce that he's home, and he loves his students, but they're definitely bigger than a handful

🧣He toys his shoes off, and he can only make it to the couch, sitting down and letting his head fall back

🧣You already knew how hard his day was because you barely heard him come in, so you carefully sneak into the living room, your twins in your arms

🧣He jumps slightly when he feels the light weight on him, lifting his head up to see his kids sitting on each of his legs

🧣His demeanor changes instantly, a sleepy but wide smile appearing on his face

🧣"Da!" your daughter says, the only thing she can manage right now while your son yells "Sho!" picking it up from hearing you call your husband by his first name

🧣He brings them closer to him, peppering kisses on their faces, making them shriek happily, the tired look in his eyes replaced with immense happiness

🧣He watches them laugh and smile before they both start to reach for each other, messing with each other's hands

🧣And he huffs softly, both of them the spitting image of you, and the same thought of being so lucky to have them and you in his life plays in his head once again

🧣You lean down and he's meeting you halfway, both of you exchanging a quick but loving kiss, and your kids start rubbing their eyes

🧣You go to reach for them, but he pulls them closer to his chest

🧣"What're you doing?" he whispers before he yawns, his eyes red with fatigue

🧣"You're tired, baby," you respond, and he shrugs as he moves them to lay on his chest, both of them snuggling into him

🧣"So are they. I can stay here for a while." You give him a soft look, your kids already out like a light as your husband yawns again, his eyes drooping

🧣You hum softly before you kiss all of their foreheads, Aizawa's breathing already slowing and evening out

🐥He actually came in through the door this time, so tired, he didn't even realize it

🐥So, he's surprised when he doesn't immediately see his kids when he walks in

🐥Worry sets in instantly, but then he hears small gasps, and he looks up to see them sitting in front of the balcony, which is where he usually comes in

🐥They jump up quickly and run over to him. "Daddy!" The tired frown on his face is gone immediately, and he's crouching down to their level, picking them up in his arms

🐥The girls wrap their tiny arms around his neck, their wings flapping wildly, and he rubs his face in their curls, his body relaxing

🐥"What were my birdies up to today?" he asks, setting them down, and they start to bounce on their feet excitedly, their curls doing the same

🐥"We learned how to fly!" one of them practically yells, and he responds with a dramatic gasp

🐥"No way!" He looks up when he hears your chuckle and your footsteps

🐥"I told them they had to wait for you if they wanted to go outside."

🐥"I can fly higher than she can!" Both of you laugh softly, and this of course starts a competition of who can fly the highest

🐥He holds his hands out when they show him, both of them sticking their tongue out in concentration as their feet slowly and shakily leave the ground

🐥He takes a step back as you keep your hands out, ready to catch them, and he has them fly towards him

🐥You clap your hands when they reach him, and he cheers excitedly before lifting himself off the ground as well, spinning them around

🐥They both giggle loudly before sets them back down before helping them with steadying themselves

🐥"Look, Daddy, mines are glowing!" She yells, making her sister say the same thing, both of them turning around and proudly showing him

🐥And he enthusiastically "oohs" and both of you figure it partially comes from your quirk

🐥For the rest of the night, he helps them, catching them before they can hit the ground, encouraging them, and giving them tips

🐥They all end up tuckering themselves out, and you find them sitting in his lap, sleeping against his chest

🐥Keigo is asleep as well, his wings curled around them protectively as he sits on the floor, his soft snores filling the room

💥He was very, very close to punching a wall when he got home, his day at work making him way more than irritated

💥But what he doesn't do is slam the door because ain't no way in hell you allow that especially now that you have kids

💥He actually got home really late, stuck with paperwork to fill out, so he's very careful and quiet with taking his shoes off

💥He actually freezes for a second when he hears your footsteps, and he turns around, the anger seeming to vanish when you walk towards him with your twins in your arms

💥"They didn't wanna go to sleep until you got home," you whisper, and both of them rub their eyes

💥Bakugou smiles softly, stepping forward to brush the curls out of their faces, carefully pushing up the masks that match his hero suit onto their foreheads

💥"Hey, you little monsters," he starts quietly, taking the both of them out of your arms. "It's past your bedtime."

💥"We wanted to show you our suits," your son says, and you straighten out their clothes, revealing his suit, which is just a big t-shirt with the outline of his suit on it

💥He chuckles softly, the smile on his face widening. "They look awesome," he compliments, and they bounce tiredly in his arms

💥"We wanna be like you," your other son says, and Bakugou feels his heart swell as he walks the both of them into their room

💥"You guys are gonna be better than me," he replies, making them smile as they curl further into him

💥He goes to put one of them in their bed, but he grabs into him tighter so he won't let him go

💥"You gotta go to bed, bud," he tells him

💥"You haven't told us a story yet," your son says, his words obscured by a yawn

💥You give them a fond look, knowing he's already given in, and he manages his way on the bed, leaning against the headboard

💥"Well, today, I had to take down this villain, with no help from the sidekicks, tch." He rolls his eyes, making you do the same

💥"But I took him in down in an instant. Just one explosion, boom!" he whisper yells, jolting them slightly

💥He's not even halfway done and they're already asleep, Bakugou already on his way out

💥And later, when you're definitely sure he's asleep, you take a picture and make it your new lock screen

🟣Work seemed to be more stressful today even though he wasn't even there for long

🟣All he wanted to do was lay down, a headache already starting to form as he walks through the door

🟣He rubs at his head with a heavy sigh as he hears a pair of footsteps running towards him, and two pairs of arms wrapping around his legs

🟣"Daddy! You're home!" He winces slightly at the high volume, but smiles nonetheless, crouching down to his daughters' level

🟣"Yeah, I am. How are my babies doin'?" They nearly tackle him to the floor with hugs, and he wraps his arms around them, a body relaxing sigh coming out of him

🟣"Don't yell so loud, he has a headache," the other one scolds, and her happiness turns into a frown when she pulls away

🟣Both of them place a small hand on his forehead. "Are you okay?" she asks softly

🟣He chuckles before grabbing both of their hands, placing a soft kiss on them as he nods

🟣"Yes, I'm okay. Thank you for asking," he tells them earnestly, and all of their attention shifts when you call his name, walking into the living room

🟣"We have to be quiet because Daddy has a headache," she informs you, and you respond with a quiet apology

🟣"I see. Well, we can make it feel better," you say, and they look at you in confusion as Shinsou stands

🟣You plant a kiss on his forehead, making him hum softly, leaning into your touch, and they gasp softly before making grabby hands at him

🟣He laughs this time, picking them both up and lowering his head, so they can plant a wet kiss on his forehead

🟣"Do you feel better?" they ask and he nods

🟣"It's like it was never there."

🟣They look at him with wide eyes full of pride before they ask if he wants to color with them

🟣He accepts and he sets them down before they run towards the coffee table, which is covered in crayons and paper while you slide him some medicine

🟣He sits in between them, coloring with them and helping them with some of the things he can't draw, their curly pigtails bopping every time they look up from the paper to show him what they drew

🟣"Does your head still hurt?" one of your daughters asks, and he squints for a second

🟣"Not as much, but maybe one more kiss for good measure," he lies, but he doesn't feel the tiniest bit guilty when he feels them do it again

🟣"I love you, Daddy," she tells him. "I love you, too!" her sister says, making sure to keep her voice down

🟣And he brings them closer to him with his arms, planting a kiss on their forehead. "I love you too, kiddos."

A/N: You really out here making my baby fever worse anon 😐💀

[steviespanties]

Since Steve’s parents are out of town so often, he and Billy have a habit of hooking up at Steve’s place. Steve’s room is nice and all, but Billy has a thing for fucking Steve in his mom’s bed;; ((HI I LOVE YOUR ACCOUNT AND YOUR STORIES THANK YOU FOR CREATING SUCH MASTERPIECES💖💖))

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH AND ALSO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO ANSWER THIS!!! (This sent me down an interior decorating rabbit hole trying to figure out what Steve’s mom’s bed- and then her own room might look like😅😂 Please imagine a layout similar to this, but with another window on the other side of the bed for more light. The ‘sofa’ and bed look a lot more like this, but the colors and style are more similar to this and this room.) 2.2k words, rated E. Steve POV, some manhandling, some frottage, some rimming and dirty talk. Anal sex. Ya know. My usual.

Steve’s parents have a big enough house (and are rich enough) that his mom has an entire bedroom for herself. She calls it her boudoir, because it’s where her walk-in closet is and where she keeps all her fancy makeup, lesser used jewelry and perfumes. There’s a massive four-poster bed with floor-length drapes matching the curtains, a chaise lounge, a vanity, all in creamy white and bathed in warm lamp light. 

Before he gets together with Billy, Steve doesn’t even think about it’s existence. It’s just another empty room, after all. The most he sees of the house are the entrance, kitchen, living room and the walk upstairs to his bedroom with his own bathroom. Hell, sometimes it slips his mind that he technically lives in what counts in Hawkins as a mansion.

Billy, however, becomes obsessed with the ‘boudoir’ in particular. 

The first time he's supposed to really stay over, not just crash in Steve’s room and fuck him into his bed at 3am, he steps through the front entrance, whistles after a survey of the hallway and goes “Aren’t you gonna show me around?”

“Yeah, sure. Just take a pair of house shoes from over there.” Steve gestures towards the shoe rack in question and Billy’s expression goes from amused to disbelieving.

“Seriously?”

Steve glares at him. “Yeah. Seriously. My parents put in new flooring over the summer and now everything has to look pristine for the two times a year they have visitors over.”

It's such an unnecessary, stupid rule to enforce all of a sudden when Steve has rarely worn shoes around the house anyways. 

He’s barefoot when it’s warm outside and leaves his shoes by the front door to change into thick wool socks during the cold months. And somehow, his parents still have found a new way to make him feel like he’s walking on eggshells in his own home.

Still, he watches Billy sullenly take off his shoes with growing amusement that gradually lightens the bad mood Steve’s gotten into just thinking about it. He figures he can give Billy a quick tour of the house and then order pizza. Watch a movie, fuck in an actual bed instead of getting each other off in the cramped backseats of their cars.

What happens instead is that Billy spends a ridiculous amount of time dragging Steve through his own home. He looks into guest rooms. Shoves his nose into cabinets. Looks out of windows like he’s staking out the neighborhood. (Woods. The neighborhood is mostly woods.)

“What are you, a spy?” Steve jokingly asks when Billy lifts up a painting to peek behind, like he’s looking for a safe. Billy scoffs, all mock-offended. But Steve can see a hint of a blush form on his cheeks. Gotcha. It’s kinda sweet how curious he is about the place, even if his main complaint is that it “feels like a show house.” Steve doesn’t have the heart to point out that he’s not too far off.

It’s when they step into his mom’s room that a predatory glint enters Billy’s eyes. “Ohh, is this where Mama Harrington sleeps?”

“Yeah. Sometimes. She wanted a room to get ready ‘in peace’. I’m pretty sure she just wants to drink prosecco in peace.” He watches Billy’s fingers trail over the fabric of one of the creamy white curtains framing the window. They part and his rings glint in the sunlight he’s suddenly bathed in. When he turns back around his hair is lit up gold and frames his head like a halo. Steve licks his lips. The fun thing about dating Billy is that he not only matches Steve in terms of libido, but seems to have a sixth sense for the moment Steve’s thoughts get distracted by his gorgeous everything.

Or maybe Steve just isn’t very subtle.

That glint in Billy’s eyes turns into hungry laser focus. Sets him into motion until he’s all pressed against Steve, a hot line of unrelenting muscle pushing him closer to the bed until they tip over and onto the mattress. Half hidden by more curtains hanging from the canopy. Sunlight follows them.

White teeth flash in an easy grin, quick and sweet, and then Billy’s lips are on Steve’s. His body weight pushes Steve into the creamy white bed cover and the air out of his lungs in a huffed laugh. Underneath him the texture of the blanket- distinct raised ribbing- digs into his skin. Billy’s hands dig into his hair.

The slick heat of Billy’s mouth and his thigh shoved between Steve’s legs is intoxicating. Makes it impossible to form a coherent thought when his focus narrows down on Billy on top of him, curls just long enough to fall down and tickle Steve’s face. He makes the most delicious sound when Steve grabs his ass and pulls him closer, till their hips are lined up just right. Steve pulls. Billy pushes. Like a conversation in a language purely made of heat and pressure, hitching breaths and choked moans. Against his own growing erection, painfully trapped in his jeans, he can feel Billy fill out as well. The pleasure is maddening. Enough to make Steve feel a burst of wetness pulse from his dick into his underwear. Enough to make him roll his hips up, searching for a better angle.

“Billy,” he sighs, not sure what he wanted to say afterwards. Just enjoys saying his name.  

“We’re wearing too many clothes,” Billy complains in response, like he picked up whatever thought Steve dropped in the minuscule space between them. They break out into a familiar flurry of limbs and discarded clothes. A condom packet and a small bottle of lube make it from Billy’s discarded jacket onto the comforter next to Steve’s head. He snorts.

“You sure you weren’t a boy scout at some point? Feels like you’re always prepared to get your dick wet.”

Billy rolls his eyes, fond smile belying his annoyance. “Shut up. Turn around.” His voice has taken on that deep, rough tone indicating how much he’s turned on. Steve leans back instead, takes his dick in hand. Enjoys the rough drag of his dry palm when he drags it up in a loose grip. Just enough to tease.  Billy raptly follows the movement. “Maybe I will if you ask me nicely.”

Oh, he loves this game. Put up a token bit of protest when Billy gets bossy, until he gets impatient and starts dragging Steve around until he’s nothing but putty underneath his hands.

“Show me your pretty hole, babe. I won’t ask again.” 

Steve’s dick pulses in his hand. He watches Billy with half-lidded eyes. The way his muscles shift, getting ready to move. Hungry and powerful, like a big wildcat.

In the next second, he’s on Steve. Makes him gasp out an involuntary yelp when he easily flips him and drags him up by his hips. Until he’s on his knees, face buried in the bed cover and hot breath suddenly ghosts over his hole. There’s barely enough time to reorient himself before the scratch of Billy’s mustache and the slick warmth of his tongue press into his crack.

“Ah, fuck yes.”

He’s never done this before Billy. Not with any of the girls he fucked or dated. Not with Tommy, who he’s traded sloppy, shameful handjobs and blowjobs with. He doesn’t think he can ever get enough of feeling Billy’s tongue on his rim, swirling around until he’s dripping with saliva. Pushing inside where he’s sensitive, pressure and stretch of his hole making him squirm and push his hips back immediately.

It’s almost embarrassing how greedy he is for Billy’s mouth on him. His lips wrapped around his dick. His tongue shoved deep into his hole, held in place by those warm hands on his asscheeks. Holding him open so Billy can get even deeper, making him moan and drool into the blanket beneath him. It’s like a pulse, curls into him till his dick pushes out another spurt of precome and he can feel himself twitch, heavy and aching between his legs.

A slicked up finger joins Billy’s tongue. Makes the stretch just a bit more intense, but still so, so good. Billy only comes up for air when he adds a second finger. Steve can feel him rest his cheek on his ass, probably watching the movement of his fingers up close. He seems to have a thing for the sight of Steve’s rim stretched, his hole filled up and glistening.

“Gonna make you a complete mess in your mom’s bed,” Billy huffs into his skin. “Gonna make you cry and cream yourself all over her sheets.” He thrusts deeper and stretches his fingers until they tug at Steve’s hole and he groans with the ache.  “Better get going then,” he tries to taunt. It falls flat with all that desperation laced through his words.  The thing is, provoking Billy only gets you so far. Steve can tease him into impatience, but once he’s fully grasped control, he revels in it. Basks in Steve’s frenzied, futile attempts at irritating him. Like he’s had his chance, but the game is already won.

Steve doesn’t mind losing that much anyways.

“Just you wait,” Billy says fondly.

All Steve can focus on for a while is that glorious, slick movement of Billy’s fingers. The way he pushes in and out of him, stretches his rim and his insides, rubs over that spot inside of him that makes him frantically claw at the textured bed cover underneath him. Just long enough to make him whine and push back, pulse around a third finger that stretches him even wider.

At some point, when he’s reduced to a sweat-slick line of tightly wound pleasure, he finds himself empty. Barely registers the sound of a ripped open condom wrapper. Warm, humid breath over his spine that wanders up up up until there’s lips and teeth on his shoulder and Billy’s cock slowly pushes inside.

There’s a growing spot of drool-wet fabric his face presses into that swallows some of his moans. When Billy moves, satisfied sighs and barely coherent praises tumbling from his lips, Steve grasps the bed cover tight. 

Billy’s hips find a rolling, unrelenting rhythm. The drag of his cock is a drug Steve can’t get enough of. Dreams about, just as much as he dreams about the tight heat of Billy around his dick.

He wishes he could turn around and admire Billy’s flushed face. Hold him between his spread legs. Get lost in his eyes and dizzy from his freckles. But Billy’s weight on his back and his mouth sucking hickeys into the back of his neck isn’t bad either. He tries to hold himself up, tries to concentrate on carrying that weight on his back, but with each thrust inside it’s like his knees spread wider and his elbows sink down until he’s pressed flat onto the bed. And then his dick makes contact with the bed cover and gets pushed right into it right along Billy’s thrusts.

“Ah!” The moan is embarrassingly loud. Louder than any other noise he’s made so far. Of course, Billy picks up on it.

“You gonna be a good boy and blow your load all over your mommy’s sheets?”

“Shut- shut up, fuck.” Billy just laughs, voice shot to hell.

Even if Steve wanted to, he can’t escape that mouthwatering pleasure the additional drag of rough fabric against his dick provides. Because even if he wanted to try, he can’t pull away from Billy’s weight on top of him. His heavy, thick cock inside of him that holds him open and fills him up.

He comes with a sob. Pushes his face harder into wet fabric. Pushes his dick through his own mess. Pushes his hips back to meet Billy’s thrusts, even when it becomes just a bit too much.

Billy rests his entire weight on him when he comes with a deeply satisfied groan. Through their aftershocks, he buries his face in Steve’s hair and they rest in companionable silence.

It’s not the last time they end up fucking on that bed, no matter how many times Steve complains about the laundry with flushed cheeks.

...

Steve isn’t enough of an idiot to not understand that Billy likes to fuck him in his mom’s bed because he likes the conquest of a room that’s ‘forbidden’. He’s the same at parties, likes to sneak into rooms he’s not supposed to be in. Likes the thrill of doing something nasty with Steve in a place his mom will walk into and never even suspect what’s happened.

And Billy? Billy doesn’t want to admit it, especially not to Steve’s face, but... the way Steve’s hair looks against the creamy-white sheets in his mom’s bedroom? The soft yellow glow of light, the blush that spreads from his cheeks down to his neck, to his chest faster than it does anywhere else- it’s addictive.

The best part, the one they both like a little too much is what happens afterwards. When the raised ribbing of the bed cover has left indents on Steve’s face where it’s been pressed down. On his arms and knees. On his back, where only Billy can see and trace it for the rest of the night, reverent and sweet.

[vaguely-concerned]

TF x Graves, 2500 words, complete and utter fluff

Stifling another yawn against the back of my hand I glance over at the window, which shows only the flat dark of a moonless night outside, before turning my eyes back to the line of T.F.’s naked back.

I’m already undressed and perched on the side of the bed, watching as T.F. is still in the middle of his nightly ritual of hanging or folding his fine clothes up all properly and neatly, lest they, I don’t know, unduly crease somewhere they ain’t meant to or somethin’. Listen, I keep my clothes in a pile on the floor by the side of the bed, right next to the shotgun, both within easy reach in the case of a middle-of-the-night emergency skipping of town. Our priorities in these matters don’t really intersect much, but to each his own and so on.

I don’t know why I’m waiting for him to come to bed to lie down myself, exactly — my eyes are already making a spirited attempt at staying shut on me whenever I blink, I’m pretty sure I’d be out and snoring in about three seconds once I got settled — but my skin has that thin restless thrum all through it that I know from experience won’t be satisfied until he’s settled into place against me and besides, the view is nothin’ to sneeze at in the meantime. He stands there shirtless, belt unbuckled and hanging loose around his narrow hips, though the fastenings of his trousers are still done up. In the light of the oil lamp across the room he’s in a rare state of relaxed unselfconscious disarray, his hair grown out long enough again that it spills over his shoulders and down his back while he fastidiously fastens the cufflinks back into place on the empty shirt so they’ll be easy to find in the morning. As he finishes up with the cufflinks he sings to himself under his breath, a good-natured jaunty little tune I vaguely remember the Brick would sometimes break out once you got a couple of drinks in him.

The hum under my skin grows higher and keener.

Stretching an arm out I hook my fingers into one of his belt loops and gently pull him in by it towards the side of the bed, until he’s standing between my legs. It prompts a half-bemused noise from him, but he goes along easily — when I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my forehead against his belly he seems to catch on, though, a sound of amusement vibrating through his chest.

He slides his hand to the back of my neck, twining his fingers into the short hair there, thumb trailing back and forth along the hairline.

T.F.’s too damned scrawny to have much in the way of padding anywhere, but there’s the warm body softness to him here nevertheless, the sweet yield and shift of a living thing whose pliancy belies the supple strength beneath. I rest my cheek against the flat of his stomach and sigh, moving my hand at the small of his back in slow caressing circles.

“Come to bed already,” I murmur, too sleep-softened along the edges to worry overmuch about makin’ sense.

He chuckles, fingers stroking through my hair. “Well, I was on my way, but then I was waylaid by some deplorable fellow in the process. Hell of a thing.”

I grin and turn my face up to him, so that my chin is resting against his belly and my lips brush his skin when I talk. “Huh. Sounds like a real shady character. You want a trustworthy sorta guy to escort you safely the rest of the way?”

“With such dangerous reprobates skulking around in the area, that’s probably for the best,” T.F. nods somberly, fond amusement deepening his voice. He runs his thumb down the bridge of my nose. “Could I afford to hire the services of a strapping upstanding gentleman like yourself, though?”

I make a nonchalant sound in my nose, squeezing him closer against me for a moment. “Eh, don’t worry ‘bout it, this one’s on the house.”

His thumb drifts down to rest at the upturned corner of my mouth as he grins back at me. “Hey, looks like it’s my lucky day.”

I kiss his stomach and lean back enough so I can start in on the fastenings of his trousers — not with any sort of heat behind it, there’s no hint of sex in the air, but in a weird way this is equally satisfying, the everyday-textured contentment of being close without any particular purpose, being the one to slowly render him naked in front of me for no other reason than that he lets me, his hands still smoothing patiently through my hair while I work.

Once I’ve got all the buttons sorted I run my thumb along the sharp edge of his hip bone until I can tuck it into the waist of his trousers and use it to tug them down. We get them about half-way down his thighs like that before we have to pause for him to shimmy out of them the rest of the way on his own, his hand resting on my shoulder for balance as he does the traditional one-legged hop to extricate his foot. Serves him right for only ever wearing pants that might as well have been painted onto him. I mean, not that I’m complainin’, mind.

“Whoa!” he says, laughing as he almost overbalances at the last hurdle, but my hand shoots out to steady him by the hip before too much disaster can be wrought. “Well, not the smoothest strip tease I’ve ever pulled off, sorry about the inconvenience.”

I nose at the newly revealed crease of his hip over the edge of his underwear. “Eh, that’s okay, if I actually wanted a proper show I’d just suggest a round of strip poker again and sit back and watch while you lose.”

“Oh, that’s a strange yet beautiful dream world you’ve made up for yourself there, Malcolm. It’s touching, really, the things the mind will do to protect itself from the truth. Positively — aah!”

T.F. jumps as I draw some of the skin of his hip between my lips and use them to nip sharply at it. His startled yelp turns into a snigger as I let go, possibly ruining the castigating effects somewhat when I brush my lips soothingly over that spot right after.

“Let that be a lesson to ya,” I say sternly.

“A lesson on what, that your mom was apparently half turtle?”

I grunt, still trailing soft kisses over his skin. “That judge in Piltover was right back then, you are an incorrigible menace to all decent and right-thinking people everywhere.”

“First of all, that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Malcolm, thank you. Two, including yourself among the ‘decent and right-thinking’ feels like the invention of some fresh new form of fraud by way of imposture unfolding before my eyes, and it’s an honour. And third, that seems to me to be some very selective memory you have there, considering His Honour Judge Highton had some even more colourful words for you after you blew up the entire north wall of the court building breakin’ me out.”

“He might’ve been given to wearing a damn silly mop on his head, but you couldn’t fault him on his vocabulary,” I concede. Before that whole incident I’d honestly thought the wigs were some sort of practical joke the Pilties would play on gullible outsiders, but as it turns out no, if you get sent to jail in the twin cities they add the indignity of makin’ someone wearing a dead badger on their head break the bad news to you. It’s a strange ol’ world out there, alright. In Bilgewater, where people are much more sensible, the justice system basically boils down to the bounty board, or — if you’ve really managed to make a nuisance of yourself — a bunch of captains may call a temporary ceasefire with each other and go get your ass together. I’ve found that the risk of getting on the bad end of an unfair trial is about the same in both places, though of course the Bilgewater one tends to be harder to come back from if carried out to its fullest. I consider myself a bit of an expert in these things.

T.F. makes a thoughtful sound. “To be fair I don’t think anyone had ever given him cause or inspiration for profanity like you did.”

“Aw. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He leans down and kisses the top of my head before he straightens for long enough to work his second foot free as well, standing there in just the sleek silky underpants he somehow seems to have an endless fresh supply of wherever we go. (My money’s on some sinister underground ring of lingerie-oriented tailors across south-eastern Valoran, for the record; when it comes to secret societies the Noxians just can’t help themselves.)

“I do my best. Hang on just one moment, I’ll be right back,” he says and ruffles my hair before he turns around, which I would complain about except that the view is, as previously mentioned, impeccable, and I’m sleepy enough to be magnanimous.

After meticulously folding his trousers and leaving them with the rest of his clothes, T.F. moves over to the table across the room and extinguishes the oil lamp, then whistles under his breath as he produces a card from somewhere — he does this, seemingly from thin air and no matter how little he’s wearing; I prefer not to speculate too much about how, exactly — and lets a little magic into it so it gives off a low glow, only enough to light his way the short walk back across the room, ‘cause in T.F.’s world the stubbing of toes and smacking of shins against unexpected furniture in the dark is somethin’ that happens to other people. That probably says some things about him I’m not ready to go puzzlin’ out at this time of night, and that he wouldn’t want to have anyone go puzzlin’ about too hard in the first place anyway.

When I hold out my hand for him in the dark he smiles and takes it, twining our fingers together, and I use the hold to tug him in and deposit him, in a neat controlled wrestler’s roll held close against me as I lay down, to his side of the bed. He laughs again at that, a surprised delighted sound that edges dangerously close to a giggle but hey, I ain’t no snitch, so who’s gonna testify against him, huh?

The card ends up on the far side of his pillow after the tumble, still giving off a glow, enough to illuminate the bed and lend the shadows around it some warmth. It makes the bed seem a small cozy island, the rest of the world rendered a not-unfriendly ocean of darkness around it.

T.F. looks at me like the world’s most contented castaway, bourgeoning crow’s feet punctuating his smile on either side and fingers still linked with mine. His hair is mussed from the meandering fall onto the bed. If I were only fractionally less about five seconds away from fallin’ asleep, my body might start to get ideas about it. Well, tomorrow is always another day.

With the back of my free hand I brush some of his hair away from his brow, and he cranes into it like a well-pleased cat. Even with the blankets tangled around our feet and the not-quite-right positions we’ve ended up in, having tumbled into place rather than settled ourselves with purpose, everything feels warm and loose and comfortable, like I could fall asleep like this even with the decidedly odd angle my arm is at.

As if sensing that the drowsiness is about to claim me for real, T.F. brings our linked hands up to his face so he can press his lips to my scarred knuckles before he lets go, then reaches to pull the covers over us, taking a moment to tuck the blanket around my shoulder properly before snuggling under it himself, hooking his leg over my thigh as he settles into place. I shift until we fit together, the familiarity of how to rest against each other just right comfortable like an old and well-loved piece of clothing. On a sigh he rests our foreheads together, craning forward the tiny amount needed to brush our mouths together and humming contentedly when I meet him there. It’s a slow kiss, but it lingers, a dry sweet press of lips like one last spark sending the day off down into the gently drifting murk of sleep that’s about to claim me for a few hours.

When it ends — I don’t think either of us was really the first to pull back, at some point the kiss simply, in the way of snowflakes on tongues, melted into something different and less defined with the warmth — there’s a moment when my eyes can still fight against slipping shut. It’s weird, the way you can look at someone every day for years and still not feel like you’ve had your fill. T.F.’s sharp narrow face, his high pointy little cheekbones and mouth still curved with a smile as he watches me back — there’s something to knowing I’m gonna see all that again tomorrow morning that all the damn money on Runeterra couldn’t get you. And take it from me, from what I’ve seen of the world there ain’t a lot of things in this life enough money won’t buy. Stumbling across one of them long before we even knew what we had, by a stroke of little more’n dumb fucking luck… sometimes it feels like the biggest heist we ever pulled.

“Hey, Tobias?” I say, brushing the tip of my nose against his as my eyelids finally give up both the battle and the war and slide closed.

“Hmmm?” he says, cheerfully drowsy as well.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I murmur, because I can’t think of any damn happier thing in the world to say to him.

He wraps his arms around me, his hand stroking meanderingly up and down the scar-crossed span of my back, fingers trailing over my skin with the perfect amount of firmness because he’s taken the time to learn exactly how much pressure it takes to make it comforting. As sleep starts pulling me under to calmer depths I tuck my head under his chin, so my face is pressed to the line of his throat and to his chest. He smells so nice, all warmly real and well-known like my own breathing.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees on a yawn, nuzzling at the top of my head and tightening his arms around me, just for a moment.

I've been trying to write stuff -- literally just anything, no matter how meandering and nonsensical -- to try to break out of a writer's block; it's not really working so far but at least I've got SOMETHING tangible to show for it at the end of the day, so, you know, uh... partial success I guess?? haha

The idea of T.F. having a judge somewhere out there who considers him the One True Nemesis of his career, J. Jonah Jameson style, even though T.F. barely even remembers his name, came from a wonderful conversation with @inversway, and the idea makes me laugh so hard every time I think about it.

ETA: Also put this on AO3, so I have somewhere to put these ficlets that isn't just tumblr! I'm grimly clinging on to this blue hellsite like a obstinate barnacle to the hull of the Titanic, but I do realize it's not the best place to archive uh anything lol

[hajimewhore]

Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 1.9k words   ➷✈Part 1, Part 2   ➷Humor, awkwardness involved, if you’re me and I’m you who’s flying the plane?!   ➷Summary: When you woke up at fuck o’clock on a Sunday morning, you cursed yourself for setting an alarm so early on the weekend. Afterwards, you came to realize a few important things: 1. You didn’t set the alarm. 2. Hajime set the alarm. 3. You were in Hajime’s room. 4. Why? 5. Because you ARE Hajime.

A/N: I’m taking forever on this Akaashi fic so I decided to throw this series out here, I hope you enjoy!🥺 Body swap is a trope I find absolutely chaotic and hilarious, so let’s get it! 

♡ ♡ ♡

Releasing a deep sigh, you pull your warm comforter over your face to hide the light peaking in from your blinds.

You're almost positive you closed the blinds and pulled the curtain over the prior night, but the thought doesn't sit much longer as you're lulled back into your slumber.

Hearing your alarm blare, a groan scratches at your throat as you smack your bedside desk, missing your phone entirely. Was your voice always this deep when you first wake up? You chalk it up to morning grogginess, deciding not to dwell on it any longer due to the obnoxious ringtone.

Also, did you even set an alarm? The thought sits at the back of your mind as you fiddle blindly for the sleep button.

It's Sunday, why would you even set one so early? How did you fuck that up?

Sitting upright, you blink blearily. Something feels off.

This isn't even your phone. These aren't your covers either...

The Godzilla posters decorating the walls definitely aren't yours, and this most certainly is not your room.

‘Hajime?’

You think looking around. This is definitely Hajime’s room. You hadn’t been in it in awhile, but it’s unmistakable.

You wrack your brain for the missing details, unfortunately coming to no result or explanation.

Why are you in Hajime’s room?! You didn’t drink last night, so there's no explanation for the missing details in your memory for how you wound up in his sheets. Also, he isn’t here currently.

What the hell?

Shoving the covers aside, you immediately notice your... significantly more masculine figure.

“What the fu—AH!”

Your surprisingly gruff voice startles you. Though, it’s not so much your voice, but Hajime’s.

Stumbling out of bed, nearly tripping over your tired legs, you barrel into Hajime's bathroom to check the mirror.

And despite all the clues handed to you, you're still completely stunned to see who's staring back at you in the mirror.

Your childhood best friend, Iwaizumi Hajime.

Cupping your hand over your mouth to stifle a scream, you pace back to the bedroom.

'It's a dream haha. A hyper realistic, very detailed, dream.'

You attempt to convince yourself as you slip back into the sheets, still warm, cursing your subconscious for forcing this abnormal dream onto your unwitting self.

Squeezing your eyes shut, twisting and turning, willing away your current situation, you realize... nothing is happening.

‘God damnit.’

You don't know who's fault this is, but it's probably Tooru's.

If you're Hajime then, yes you're starting to accept this fucked up situation, that that must mean Hajime is...

Shooting back up to a sitting position, you curse at the ache in your abdominal region. Jesus, how hard did Hajime go at practice?

Also, you can't believe you have Hajime’s abs right now.

Throwing on a random t-shirt and pair of sweats, decidedly not thinking about his abs, and how he was sleeping in briefs only, you jogs downstairs like a mad man.

Completely forgoing shoes, you cross the street and use the hidden key stuck in a potted plant to open the front door.

You're positive by now your parents have left for work, and Tooru is more than likely sleeping in after staying up late last night (no doubt pouring over tournament videos), so there's no chance for interruption from either party.

Not that your parents would question Hajime's presence, but you really aren't in the mood for doing small talk with your own parents while pretending to be Hajime.

You head straight up the stairs for your room, swinging the door wide open.

“That’s... me.... augh, this is so weird!”

You run a hand through your hair, almost startled by the different texture. This will definitely take some getting used to. 

...Also, was Hajime’s hair always this soft?

You physically dash that train of thought from your mind, shaking your head. You remind yourself of the task at hand and your current dilemma, crossing the threshold of your room.

You shuffle over to the bed, climbing on top of the covers.

If that’s Hajime, he’s no doubt gonna freak out over seeing himself wake himself up.

Well, you might as well have fun with it.

“Hajime!”

You shake... yourself, watching your eyes blink open.

“Wha—?”

The physical-You blinks awake, catching eyes with physical-Hajime.

“What the f—”

You cover presumably Hajime's mouth (you're mildly hoping there hasn't been an awful three-way swap between you two and Tooru),

"Hajime! Confess to your sins!"

"I— What the fuck?! I haven't done anything! You're— How are you me! I'm me! Why is my voice—"

Hajime is quite clearly panicking and word vomiting his stress. And while it was a little funny at first, you're starting to feel a bit bad.

"Alright alright, before you go full panic, look in the mirror. I know this seems like bullshit, but it’s me!”

You lean back, gesturing to the mirror above the dresser.

Hajime’s eyes furrow, following your gesture before locking eyes with... Your eyes in the mirror.

But that’s definitely him moving like that, lifting his arms, tilting his head. Or rather, your arms, your head, fuck, this is confusing.

“Why the fuck am I you?” after a momentary pause, “What did Oikawa do?” 

Hajime snarls, and it sounds odd coming from your tone.

“I was hoping you’d know the answer to that. I came here as soon as I woke up.”

“Well, this all better be a really fucked up, disgustingly realistic dream I’m having.”

Hajime sighs, rubbing his eyes.

“I really don’t think it is. I already went through that crisis.”

You pout, and Hajime raps you on the forehead.

“Don’t make faces like that with my face, you’re freaking me out!”

“Me? You have the biggest resting bitch face ever! It’s scary on me!”

His expression softens marginally, after a deep frown.

“Well... I guess we should figure out a way to fix this.”

“How’re we gonna do that!?”

You whine, and Hajime cringes at the way it sounded coming out of his mouth.

“No clue. In the mean time, we should try and keep this a secret and attend classes like normal. Also—”

He cuts himself, frowning deeply.

“What?”

“Shittykawa. Volleyball.”

“Aw fuck!”

You groan, falling back into your sheets at the foot of the bed.

“How are we gonna pull that off?!”

“Just talk to Oikawa like I would, and I’m sure I could... do the same.”

You somehow doubt that will work, and you can plainly see Hajime is going to have an issue conversing with Tooru in your mannerisms. Tooru has known the both of you longer than anyone else, and tends to be perceptive in and out of volleyball. Regardless, you have no choice but to have faith in Hajime's plan, even if it is lacking the finer details.

“As far as volleyball...?”

You tilt your head, chewing at your cheek at the thought of club activities in an entirely different body. Hajime rubs his hair, briefly startled by it being... not his hair.

You bring up very valid concerns. He's the ace of his team, you're a middle blocker for the women's team. Neither of you are especially privy to your respective team's plays or teammates.

“I’m sure we’ll catch on fast. We’ll just have to spend today teaching each other everything we need to know. At least we both know how to play, even if it’s different positions.”

He locks eyes with you slumped in the sheets, trying not to picture it as himself laying back in your bed. Realistically, it is him, but it isn't his mind. But now is not the situation whatsoever to be thinking about the suggestiveness of that image, so he shakes the thoughts from his head.

“Mm, guess you’re right. As far as school goes, our class schedule is pretty similar, so we can just study together. How bout we get ready and practice volleyball at the park?”

The unspoken ‘before Tooru wakes up’ hangs off your lips.

“Alright, I’ll get ready.”

He stands from the bed, before freezing and blushing heavily.

“Absolutely not!”

You match his blush, sitting upright in a flash.

“I-I’ll help you get ready! Just keep your eyes closed!”

You cry out, and Hajime turns his nose with a heavy blush.

“Like I’d open them!”

“Better yet—“

You snatch your uniform tie from your bedside table, wrapping it around Hajime’s eyes.

After tying off the makeshift blindfold, you ponder what transgressions you must have committed in your past life to be here undressing yourself as Hajime.

“God, this is so weird.”

You whine, awkwardly tugging your, Hajime’s, clothes off.

“How do you think I feel?!”

He snaps, but there’s less venom in the tone due to the pitch of your voice. There is a classic Hajime ring to it though, and your mildly impressed he pulled that off with your natural voice.

You make quick work of dressing him in athletic wear, not wanting to suffer in the stifling awkwardness any longer than necessary.

He removes the tie from his eyes, averting his gaze with pink still dusting his features.

“...”

“What now?”

You're worried to hear what he’s contemplating, and you certainly don’t like the sheepish, awkward expression stretching across his features.

“I really have to pee.”

“Haaaajiiimeee! Just hold it!”

You turn scarlet, and he glares.

“I can’t hold it forever! And who knows when we’ll be able to turn back. We might as well break the seal now.”

Ordinarily that kind of wording would be humorous, but you can’t find anything funny about the situation you’re currently in. Hajime stomps towards the bathroom, looking not unlike a toddler throwing a tantrum. 

‘Damn, I really look like that?’

♡ ♡ ♡

“I can’t go with you staring at me!”

Hajime growls out, makeshift blindfold back in place. He has an inkling that he’ll be wearing this a lot now, but he can say for certain he never thought he’d be using a blindfold in this manner.

“You can’t even see me!”

“That’s not the point, I know you’re standing there!”

“Ugh, this is so humiliating! Just get it over with!”

You huff, slamming the door shut and flopping unceremoniously onto your bed, shoving your face into the pillows.

You hear the rush of water, good to know he washes his hands, and Hajime steps out of the bathroom feeling.... new, for lack of a better word.

“You’ll have to deal with it too, you know.”

He turns his nose, drying his hands on his pants, cheeks still hot.

“...I already did.”

You huff, and Hajime cries out with indignation at the revelation.

“What the fuck? And you made such a big deal out of—”

“You’re really packing!”

You stick your tongue out, and Hajime moves to legitimately strangle you and make an attempt at your life, not caring if it’s his own body.

“H-Hajime please, I was kidding, I haven’t gone yet, I swear!”

“Whatever!”

Upon closer inspection, you look way less threatening than Hajime ever did, but you hold back the snicker before Hajime can get too pressed about it.

“Let’s just go back to my place and get ready for practice.”

He huffs, trailing out of your room as you follow, relieved he’s calmed a bit.

Your relief is short lived however, and a panic washes over you when you think about how you'll have to go through Hajime forcing his clothes onto you.  

[Masterlist] [✈Part 1, Part 2]

[wornoutmouse]

Bakugou does your hair

In this I'll be using my hair products cause i don't know any other. Blue magic, cantu, and Shea Moisture don't work for me. My hair hates it and breaks off🤷🏿‍♀️

I used to use Grandma's Recipe but its not moisturizing my hair anymore since i moved to Vegas so i have been using ™WonderGro (Jamaican Black Castro Oil) for grease and ™Elite (total body care) for both shampoo, conditioner, and face oil. I gots me some vitamin c serum for dark spots cause i don't use make-up.

I have super sensitive skin that switches 25/40 (i cant use suave anymore cause now im alergic to it.) And i break out easy so trust me if i recommend any products in regards to skin care😂

Sorry this is getting long, enjoy the fluff

The day was here. The day you’ve dreaded since you and Katsuki started living together. Wash day.

Up until now, all Katsuki had seen you wearing were different variations of braids. He had a vague idea that not all your hair was real but he has never seen your hair free and in the wild.

“Hey Bakugou, do you have anything to do today?” you ask nonchalantly as your boyfriend walks through the door. “No.” was his only response as he sat next to you. You cringe as he buries his face into your braids and you  imagine the dust and dirt falling on his eyelashes. 

(I’ve only let it get that bad twice in my life)

“Well, could you please find something to do?” That got his attention as he sits up and glares at you. “Why are you trying to get rid of me all of a sudden?” You close your eyes regretting even starting the conversation. “Look today I need to wash my hair so I really need to focus, Baku.” 

Bakugou is, of course, confused as he looks at your hair to see if something was wrong with it. “So why don’t you wash it, I won’t bother you?” You scream inside your head at his persistence but press on. “Because Bakugou, you’ve never seen my natural hair and I’m not sure if I want you to yet.”

You peek your eyes open to see Bakugou’s reaction and to your horror, absolute boredom was present on his face. “That sounds like a personal problem because now I’m not leaving, in fact, let's go do it now.” 

“Bakugou! Please!” you wail as he drags you to your shared bathroom. You try to dodge and weave but consequently get your hair caught in his steel grip as he held onto a group of your braids. “Stop struggling and sit your pretty ass down.”

You pout as you plop down on the toilet seat but watch with curious eyes as Bakugou grabs your rat tail comb and stabs a spot in-between your braids. “What are you doing?’ He scoffs as he elegantly unbraids your hair. “I doubt you wash your hair while it’s still braided idiot.”

With calm accuracy, Bakugou takes down your hair from left to right, smacking your hands when you try to help. "You didn't want to do your hair with me around so I don't want you raising a hand to help!"

When Bakugou finishes, he grabs the mountain of hair and looks at you with wide eyes as he takes in your real hair. "Why are you looking at me like that?" You groan hiding your face in embarrassment. Bakugou shrugs, "I didn't expect it to be that short." He bags the rest of your hair and leaves to throw it out as you wallow in self pity.

With frustrated tears you turn away from him with your arms crossed. A hand hits you on the back of your head, "What's that face for!?" You turn towards him with your lip jutted out, "You said my hair is short!"

Bakugou looked at you dumbly as he watched you glare at your toes. With a sigh Bakgou turns on the shower as he speaks, "I never said it was a bad thing. Hell, i wouldn't care if you were bald." You study his face and feel your heart flutter. It wasn't often you got to see the side of him.

Your suddenly hit with a face full of pressurized water as Bakugou points the shower head at you, "Get that dumb look off your face and get in the shower!"

After you recover from your drowning, you get into the shower and put shampoo on your hair. Humming your favorite song, you massage the liquid into your scalp, completely missing the sound of the curtain opening.

It wasn't until you felt a warm presence behind you and breath tickling your ear. "Why do you have the water at 100 gotdamn degrees in here!?" In your haste, you nearly slip and bang your face against the shower wall. "I'm not even gonna ask." Katsuki muttered as he adjusted the knob.

"Why are you in the shower with me?" Bakugou rolls his eyes and turns you back around, and for a moment you thought he wanted to get ✨freaky deaky✨ in the shower. That of course was until you felt fingers rub your scalp in soothing circles.

"Ah~" Bakugou smirked as he heard your sound of pleasure. In reality, he was taking the time to get used to touching your hair. Because it was in braids, he never got to fully feel your hair texture. But now he could not only feel it dry but wet and he must say it's a strange feeling.

Side note: am i the only one that thinks straight hair feels slimy when wet? Like i can't stand touching non black hair when it's wet it feels so icky.🤢

When washing is said and done (of course with a loving make out session: details not included) You somehow find yourself in between Bakugou's legs as he parts your hair. "Wait a damn minute, you don't know how to do my hair!?" You say reaching back to grab the comb only to get your hands popped. 

"Your mom taught me that trap card." Bakugou smirked as you rub your battle wound. "That's it, I ain't letting you hang with my momma no moe." Bakugou applies your repair oil in the parts, and massages it into your scalp once again, soon making your eyes roll back from the feeling.

"Do you want to use Grandma's Recipe' or "WonderGro Jamaican Black Castro oil"?" Bakugou asks, reading your grease labels. You sit there and shrug, "Jamaican." Bakugou nods and opens it gasping when he smells it. 

(It smells like blue slurpee on gawd)

"Can I eat it?" He asked scooping some of the dark purple solid onto his finger. "You can, but I can't guarantee you'll live afterwards though." You joke earning yourself another pop.

In the end Bakugou puts your hair in twisties for you to blow dry tomorrow. It looked better than you expected and you thanked him for it.

Anyone notice that when you look up short hairstyles it be shoulder length like, "sorry but im bald ma'am😃"

[retrievablememories]

serenade | mark (m)

title: serenade pairing: mark x reader genre: fluff, smut summary: you and mark spend your first night together at the dorm, and you try to think of a way to say what you really want. word count: 2.5k warnings: fingering, PIV sex, riding, handjob a/n: i still kinda see mark as like a little bro or something so it felt weird to write this. lmao. in other news, who do i have to pay to get a full cover of “get you” from him?

“We better not get caught.”

You say this as you and Mark head up to their dorm floor, his hand in yours the entire time like he’s unwilling to let you go.

“We won’t, promise. The manager went to go visit family so we have the room all to ourselves this weekend.” He winks at this, and you give him a look in return.

You plunk yourself onto his bed once you get to the room he shares with the manager, your overnight bag slipping out of your hand. You only mean to lie there for a few seconds, but you’re taken in with the smell of Mark on the sheets and comforter, and you try to inconspicuously bury your nose in them. Of course, he notices anyway.

“Do you like the smell of me that much?” Mark comes over to you and tugs the comforter around you so you’re rolled up in it like a burrito, and you giggle uncontrollably as he does so. “Shh! Don’t wake the whole dorm up.” Mark puts a finger to his lips and looks around suspiciously as if there could be someone in the room already eavesdropping on your conversation, and you roll your eyes. 

“Hello, Mark, you’re the one who said the coast was clear.” You try to unravel yourself, but he’s gotten you pretty wrapped up in the small amount of time you were laughing, and now you can’t get free. “Uh, what the hell!”

“I know, but if the guys find out they aren’t going to let me hear the end of it…” Mark says, coming to rescue and pulling you from the mesh of blankets. You slide off the bed, trying to fix your hair, but it doesn’t matter much anyway; you’re going to be dressing for bed soon.

You go to the bathroom to do just that, changing into your sleeping clothes. You and Mark have been dating for a little while but haven’t done much yet, so you’re still unsure about changing in front of him or how he’d react—though you’re hoping to change that tonight. Maybe if you’re lucky.

When you enter the room again, you see that Mark has done the same and is lying on the bed in his pajamas. He’s looking at something on his phone, but his eyes drift back to you when you walk in and climb on the bed beside him, tucking your head into his arm.

“Are you gonna fall asleep so soon?” Mark laughs, throwing his leg over yours. “We still have the whole night ahead of us.”

“I’m just resting,” you say, though you also know you probably will fall asleep soon if you stay like this long enough. “But if you don’t want me to fall asleep, we should probably do something. Like watch a movie.”

“What do you want to watch?” Mark asks, sitting up straighter at the suggestion. He reaches for his laptop nearby.

“Doesn’t really matter,” you say absently. “Maybe we could try something we haven’t seen before.”

You and Mark go back and forth about which movies to watch until you finally settle on an action film that looks interesting to you both. It’s better than you expected it to be, so you decide to watch the sequel when the first one ends. Halfway through the second film, though, you start losing your focus. Much to your annoyance, it leaves a lot to be desired compared to the first.

Your attention starts drifting more towards the boy beside you. Your eyes follow the sharp lines of his jawline and cheekbones, and you think about bringing up the subject that’s been burning in your mind. Mark must feel your eyes piercing the side of his face, because he soon turns to you with an amused smile on his lips.

“What’s wrong? You’re not watching the movie. Are you bored with it?”

“Ha. A little…” you admit, distractedly playing with the fabric of his shirt sleeve. Mark pauses the movie and sets the laptop aside. He grasps the hand that’s tugging at his sleeve and plays with your fingers, clasping them between his own.

“What do you wanna do now, then?” Should you ask him now? How do you even say it? Let’s fuck? I’d like to have sex? You almost roll your eyes at the thought of saying either of those lines. You squeeze his fingers between yours and open your mouth to speak, but you become stuck on what to say.

You chicken out at the last second. “C-can you sing something for me?” you ask instead, nervously wetting your lips.

Mark blushes a little and laughs. “You wanna hear me sing?”

“Anything! It doesn’t matter what.”

He nods, then pulls away from you to grab his guitar and take it out of its case. He resettles himself on the bed in front of you, crossing his legs. You push the sheets away from you and sit like an excited puppy, waiting to see what he’ll play. He strums thoughtfully, warming himself up and wondering what song he should sing for you. 

Suddenly, his eyes widen a bit and he smiles slyly, like he’s just unearthed the answer to a mysterious case. “Oh, I got it.” Mark plucks at the strings on his guitar, his voice flowing out softly.

Through drought and famine, natural disasters My baby has been around for me Kingdoms have fallen, angels be callin' None of that could ever make me leave

Every time I look into your eyes, I see it You're all I need Every time I get a bit inside, I feel it

Ooh, who would've thought I'd get you? Ooh, who would've thought I'd get you?

And when we're making love, uh Your cries, they can be heard from far and wide It's only the two of us Everything I need between those thighs...

He continues singing the rest of the song as you look on, a grin on your lips and excitement buzzing in your body. He has to make an effort not to look at you as he sings, because your grin makes him want to giggle every time.

Mark smiles bashfully when he stops strumming, and he’s about to say something when you cup his cheeks and kiss him on the lips. He’s surprised for a moment before he responds, kissing you back as tenderly as you’re doing to him.

When you separate from each other, you’re still holding his face, studying him carefully. Mark swallows nervously, though his eyes shine with a mischievous light. “Did it work?” he asks, his voice low.

You look at him questioningly. “Did what work?”

“Have I seduced you with my voice?” He seems embarrassed about his own line, but he says it anyway with all the confidence he can muster.

“You’re embarrassing,” you answer, trying to hold back your laughter. “But if you really want to know, we can find out.”

Mark sets his guitar to the side, and you kiss again, his tongue nudging carefully against yours. He draws you closer, though neither one of you is really taking the lead yet—instead choosing to move at an even pace and test the waters of this whole thing.

It’s not your first time—or his—but it is your first time with Mark, and you don’t know quite what to expect. You let yourself relax against him as his hands slide across your sides, curving around to your back to bring you closer still. He soon ends up lying you back on the bed, settling himself against you and feeling your body heat reaching out to him through your clothes.

You think you could kiss him like this forever, but you can feel him getting hard against your hip, and your own body is answering in kind, wanting to explore further. “Take your shirt off,” you say quietly against his lips. He pauses—but only for a second—before pulling back and stripping his shirt off.

You run your hands across his chest and stomach after they’re revealed to you, and he asks you just as tentatively, “Can I…take this off?” while holding the hem of your shirt. You nod yes, and he does so. He’s quick to nuzzle into your breasts, which makes you laugh tenderly and pet his head. He lavishes them with warm kisses, sucking the nipples past his lips and making you moan softly. His hair is soft as you run your fingers through it.

He continues kissing his way down your chest and stomach, and you feel anxious and eager all in one. When he reaches the hemline of your pajamas, he asks if he can take these off, too, and you reply with a yes. He slides your bottoms down, and you feel a little self-conscious about it but try not to let that get to you, wanting to enjoy the moment.

“How do you want this to be?” Mark asks this simple question as his fingers trace across your thighs, soft like a bird’s wings, and it makes your insides tremble. You’re not entirely sure how to respond, because Mark could fuck you in every way possible and you would likely enjoy every moment of it.

You answer by sitting up and climbing into his lap, feeling him hard under you.

“Please touch me,” you say this against his lips as you kiss him again, feeling the silky texture of his mouth caressing your own. One of his arms snakes around your waist to hold you in his lap, and you gently grip the other one, guiding his hand to the space between your bodies.

He touches you carefully at first, feeling you over your underwear and nudging his fingers against that small bundle of nerves that has you shifting on his lap. His touches grow a little firmer when he notices how you respond to him, and he gains the motivation to pull your panties to the side for better access.

Mark slips his fingers across your lower lips, noticing how wet you already are and then nudging them against your entrance. Tentatively, he pushes one inside, and you melt into him more, wanting more of him inside you.

“More, Mark,” you murmur into his neck, his pulse beating against your lips. He adds a second finger, stretching you out around him. You whimper into his skin as Mark thrusts his fingers into you, coaxing more pleasure from you. 

When you cum on Mark’s fingers, your orgasm arrives with a shuddering moan. Your eyes drift back a little as he keeps scissoring his fingers inside you, and instead of pulling away, you find yourself grinding into his hand again so you can chase a second climax. It doesn’t take long for another wave to rush over you, with Mark mouthing at your neck and collarbone as he feels you shake in his arms.

He eventually pulls his fingers out, which are slick with cum, and slides them into his mouth. He makes a satisfied sound at this, which turns into a groan as you pull his sweatpants down far enough to release his dick. It slaps against his stomach, leaving a smear of glistening precum behind on his skin.

“You should find a condom,” you say as you take his member in your hand, drawing your thumb over the sensitive spot just below the tip. This move makes more precum leak from him, running onto your thumb and wetting your fingers. Mark’s eyes flutter, and he tries to steady his breathing.

“You have to let me go, first,” he responds. You know that, but you want to have a bit more fun with him first, thumbing the slit of his cock and fondling his balls with your other hand. You haven’t really begun touching him yet, but he’s already taken apart by these actions, groaning as quietly as he can.

You play with him a little more, making him tremble against you as you stroke his cock, before finally letting him go and allowing him to get up. After he retrieves a condom and slips it on, you practically pull him back onto the bed, causing him to land on you. He holds himself up to keep his weight off you as he claims your lips again. You think he’s going to slide into you in this position, but with his lips at your ear, he says, ”I want you to ride me.”

Your body is burning hot with the idea of it, and you comply by nodding and placing yourself back in his lap, his member sliding against your sex.

Mark makes a sound between a moan and a whimper when you sink down onto him, snugly fitting his dick inside of you. His breaths are heavy as they hit against your skin, and his hands go to your hips, needing to take hold of something to keep himself grounded.

Mark thrusts up into you as you bounce on him, and your toes curl both with the pleasure of it and from the effort of not being too loud. “Mark, God…” You hold onto his back for stability as your bodies slide together more perfectly than you could’ve dreamed. His lips go back to worrying the skin of your neck as he pushes himself up into you, holding you tight enough against him to have your breasts pressed against his chest. His hand slides lower to grip your ass, and he moans openly at the feel of it in his palm.

Your hands slide easily across each other’s skin from the sweat; some of it drips down Mark’s collarbone and you lick it away. HIs dick twitches inside you in response to your actions, and you decide that you like teasing him this way, drawing your tongue against his body and making him shiver underneath you.

“Y/N…” Mark’s voice shakes as he groans into the side of your neck, and you know he’s likely already close. You bring your hand to where you’re joined together, wanting to bring yourself closer to orgasm, but Mark replaces your hand with his. His touches on your clit make you thrust yourself harder onto him, wanting to get as much of the sensation as you possibly can.

Mark spills into the condom soon after this, his thighs jerking beneath you, though he never stops pleasuring you the whole way through. The barely-concealed sounds of his moans and his fingers on the most sensitive part of your body is enough to have you following after him, leaving small imprints of your nails on his shoulders.

After you are both spent, Mark lies back on the bed and you cling to each other, your head resting on his chest. You’re wholly satisfied, waves of contentment enveloping you in their warm embrace. Mark remains seated inside of you, and you’re delightfully full from it.

“I should sing for you more often if this is what happens afterwards,” Mark comments, tapping his fingers against your back absentmindedly.

“...Do you always have to ruin the moment?” You shake your head, though on the inside, you definitely can’t deny that you’d do it again.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Obey Me! Request: What if the reader's a fairy whose wings were ripped away eight years prior (and Solomon knows because in this canon he and MC are childhood friends who made a pact on accident). How would they all react when they see the scars?

Oh, how I love writing requests while also listening/watching teachers do online courses~

---

Lucifer

His first reaction would be shock, then complete rage.

Who dared do something so incredibly cruel to his beloved S/O?!

He would start asking you details, if you knew who did it, if found, could the wings be attached again, if the scars still hurt and countless other questions.

He is not THE most powerful demon Brother for nothing, you know?

He is definitely going to find out the culprit, find your wings, wherever they are, and do anything in his power to put them on your back, as good as new, as if nothing happened.

Demons can do lots of things, and if they can’t do it, he’s sure Simeon will do a little angelic favour to him, for good times’ sake, when they were as good as brothers.

He already lost Lilith, he’s not going to have you in pain, miserable and suffering as well.

---

Mammon

Mammon.exe stopped working.

He’s literally so shocked all he can do for a while is stare at the terrible scars on your back.

What happened? Did they hurt? Were you really okay?

To him, those scars feel like the scars his heart has from all the hate he gets from his brothers.

When you tell him what happened, he feels his heart being crushed and cut up and everything.

He can’t imagine what could you have felt when that happened, and even now, after so many years...

Mammon has lots of connections and knows everything on the market, and despite this not being something he’d search for, now it’s his top priority.

Even his brothers, seeing how serious and desperate he is, will help him out in any way possible (shocked and impressed by his ambition).

After everything is solved, he’d make sure to hug you just a bit tighter, kiss you just a bit longer, make sure he never says anything that may hurt you, even if it meant walking all over his pride and tsundere tendencies...

He’d do anything for you.

---

Leviathan

He’d freak out at first, thinking that someone attacked you, or something bad, and that you’d need medical attention asap.

When you tell him those are old scars, he bites his lip and asks if he can know what happened.

As soon as you tell him what happened, his eyes start to sparkle and he mentions how you were definitely a Magical Girl, and this was just the bad part of your story plot.

He will consult with his brothers to find out if somehow you can glue new wings back or literally anything.

He finds out there is a way to get you new wings and attach them back to their place, so Levi spends all his money to get the most beautiful, sparkly, colourful, magical girl styled wings, making you look like a fairy, and as well as that, he’ll draw you as a magical girl and as yourself, undercover, draw your magical girl weapon and will literally create a whole universe about you, that will eventually turn into a manga series, and an anime.

He will obviously make himself the love interest of you, the protagonist, and every emotions and words he’s too shy to express out loud, will definitely be shown in the manga.

---

Satan

Oh boy, this one will literally burn with anger - Flames and cinder around him and all that.

He will bite his lip in anger, trying his best not to manifest his wrath in front of you, while he gingerly touched the scars left on your skin.

He will be restless until he gets to torture the living hell out of the fucker who dared do something so gruesome to you, and when he’s done, he’ll make sure his soul gets to hell and will personally attend to his eternal agony.

When he’s done for the day, he won’t get back to you until he found YOUR wings, and got them to their rightful state, pristine clean and healthy, just as new, as if they never left your back.

Satan will go through all magic books he has to get the wings on your back perfectly, painless, even enchant them to look even cooler, in any way you like.

When everything is back to normal, Satan would love to touch your wings, massage your back and watch your flutter them around, seeing the happiness in your eyes as you finally felt free.

---Asmodeus

Asmo would feel angry and upset that something like that had to happened to his beautiful, beloved S/O.

He would hug you tightly, trying to comfort you, not caring that it happened years ago or that it doesn’t hurt anymore.

No, Asmo is going to cuddle you, stroke your hair, kiss you all over your face and say all the sweetest and soothing words that only you will ever have the privilege to hear.

Of course, he wouldn’t just sit still, he will take Satan and look everywhere for the prettiest wings, while he has a picture of you on his D.D.D. to make sure the the height, colour, lengths, texture, weight of the wings are going to match you perfectly.

You’re his angel, no matter what.

He’s gonna take an infinite amount of professional pictures of you, different outfits, different backgrounds, different places, different hairstyles, different makeups, so he’d give you the confidence, because you are perfect from head to toe.

---Beelzebub

He’d be shocked to hear that, and in a way, he will project this whole situation to his problem with Lilith.

Don’t get me wrong, he won’t see you as Lilith, but he blames himself for Lilith’s death, and he feels like, now that he has the opportunity to save you and bring you back your wings, it would mean, in a way, that he finally did something right for his loved one and he can forgive himself.

Your happiness and well-being are all that matter to him.

That night, he will hold you close to his chest, almost afraid that you would somehow disappear, or break, like a porcelain doll, so beautiful, yet so fragile.

Beel will ask for Belphie’s help and insight on the issue, and as soon as he finds a remedy, he will take out his laptop and show you wings online, letting you choose whichever you like most, or which one you think would look the most like the ones you had.

His heart will flutter with relief and happiness when you finally have your new wings and he gets to attach them on your back, seeing them fuse with your body.

Beel will stare at you in awe at how majestic you look, and will get in his demon form, hugging you tightly to his chest, kissing your head, a soft smile on his face.

He finally did the right thing.

---

Belphegor

Fucking humans! 

How dare they do something so atrocious to you?!

How could they hurt you and Lilith, the ones he loved the most in this life?!

Needless to say, Belphie would be incredibly angry and will take immediate action.

Avatar of Sloth? No more.

Avatar of You’reFuckingDead.

He’ll go to the end of the world to burn that bastard alive, make sure he realises how much he screwed up, messing with HIS S/O...

He lowkey contemplates destroying the human world again, but knowing you exist and how upset you’d be quickly changes his mind, which only makes him torture the jerk even more.

When he gets back, he doesn’t hesitate even 1 second before putting your wings on your back and dragging you in front of the mirror, fixing them, before hugging your from behind in his Demon form and wrapping his tail protectively around you, resting his chin on the top of your head.

Seeing the mirror’s reflection, he vows to never let anything ever come anywhere close to making you upset.