#happy birthday to the only man what i allow break my legs

[moonnu-u]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEAUTIFUL BOY!!

Jiang Cheng deserves love and the entire world. HB to my boy. <3

[songmingisthighs]

Cornered

group : ateez

pairing : bf!mingi × reader × yeosang

genre : smut

wc : 3.9 k

tw : mdni, unprotected sex, consensual sex, explicit smut (voyeurism ??, mingi's kind of a cuck maybe ??, spitroasting, brief mention of yunho with a feetish, creampie, sloppy seconds, slight m × m, double stuffed), mingi and mc ganging up on yeosang, slightly more dominating mingi, can't think of anything else to warn :/

a/n : happy birthday my womp womp beefcake raccoon !!! i had planned this fic for a week maybe ? and i decided to just post this on yeosang's birthday as like a dedication thing and ofc i had to include mingi in this because who am i if not songmingisthighs ?? lmaoooo

a/a/n : it surprised me that i was able to finish this one so quick

buy me coffee ?

Yeosang felt odd from the moment he stepped into the dorm Mingi shared with San and Seonghwa. There was something about the aura that sent shivers down his spine.

He had received a text from Mingi, asking him to hang out at his place as his roommates would be out the whole night and they had no schedule the next day. So it was quite a surprise for Yeosang to see you on the couch, lounging before rushing to hug him as soon as you took notice of his arrival. He had assumed that the reason Mingi invited him in was because he had no one to accompany him. Apparently not.

What got him feeling even more odd was the fact that you were particularly touchy with him even if your boyfriend was pressed on your back with his arm slung around your shoulders.

It all came down to when the flustered Yeosang excused himself to grab some cold water. Thirsty, he excused himself, but the sight of you in Mingi's oversized t-shirt with what he had accidentally discovered a lack of bottom save for your panties when you oh-so-clumsily dropped his hand that you were playing with onto your lap, smack dab between your legs. He felt so wrong for having his heart beating out of his chest because it was his best friend's girlfriend and no matter how she was acting, albeit slightly too bravely. It reduced Yeosang to a fumbly, bumbly man who had to calm himself down.

Unbeknownst to him, you and Mingi were smirking at each other, knowing that your plan had worked. See, Mingi had a feeling that Yeosang was somewhat attracted to you as seen from the way he paid attention completely whenever you were talking or the way he brought you up in conversation especially when they were talking about interests. But one thing that struck most was the way Yeosang complimented you and then blushed. This intrigued Mingi and he proposed that you two allow Yeosang to have fun with the two of you.

Finalizing your plan, you and Mingi walked over to the kitchen where Yeosang was hunched over with his forehead pressed on the cold marble counter, trying to calm himself down.

Unfortunately, the slight touch of your hand on his shoulder caused his heart to jump and body to straighten out.

"Aww, are you nervous around me, Yeosangie?" you teased, a smirk etched on your face. Yeosang swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head but Mingi chuckled, cutting him off as he proceeded to step closer to him. "Come on, you can't even utter a word and we can see your dick twitching from accidentally touching my girl's pussy," he teased.

Yeosang's eyes widened and he looked down to his crotch almost immediately to see that there was in fact an imprint of his slowly hardening cock, prominent on his grey sweatpants. Yeosang kept staring at it in shame while your eyes sparkled with mischievous glint, almost mirroring the look on Mingi's face.

Realizing the fact that you and your boyfriend were looking at him like Siamese cats with a plan, Yeosang could only gulp nervously.

He had walked into a trap.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a challenge trying to get Yeosang to break out of his shell because you know that he wanted to touch you as much as you wanted to touch him, if not more. He wouldn't even touch you even after Mingi told him that he could, not even when you riled him up by stripping (which was basically just you taking off the shirt you borrowed from Mingi) and plopping on his lap, and not even when you started making out with your boyfriend right up in his face with your tits groped and fondled by Mingi's rough hands.

The moans you were making sounded like music in Yeosang's ears and he couldn't help but be aroused seeing the way you and Mingi were enjoying each other as if he wasn't there. Little did he know (because he was too busy watching you), Mingi was keeping an eye on Yeosang the whole time, particularly his reaction. It was a known, unspoken secret between you two that your boyfriend has the tendency to get super risky when there are people around in case you both get caught because deep down (and by deep down, it's really just almost on the surface), Mingi is kind of a voyeur, that's why he told you about his observation over Yeosang because he found it hot that his friend wanted the girl he has.

With a soft touch, Mingi tapped your hip gently, signalling you to detach for a bit so he could nod in Yeosang's direction.

"I think Yeosangie feels a bit neglected," you smirked, now paying attention to him by pressing your body flush against him, your crotch right on his hardened cock and your arms around his shoulders, "I'm so sorry."

If Yeosang thought he was aroused when he was watching you and Mingi, he was now risking cumming in his pants because you had started sucking on the skin around his chest. God bless Yeosang in tank tops.

"Come on man, I know you want to touch (y/n), you're so red in the face and you're really straining from holding yourself back, just relax, let it be," Mingi smugly said as he positioned your hips outwards so you were in a kneeling position on top of Yeosang who couldn't help but let his breath hitch when Mingi started grinding his own erection on your clothed cunt. "I- I," Yeosang stuttered as his eyes rolled into the back of his head from the way your mouth was sucking a hickey at the base of his neck and your finger rolling his nipple over his tank top, "I just-" he tried finding an excuse but he couldn't think of anything because the reality was all three of the parties involved consented, all three parties wanted this, two parties are enjoying it, and one party is being too stubborn for his own good.

Yeosang almost let out a whine when you detached your lips from his skin but he held it in, even as you stared up at him with pleading doe eyes, "Don't you want to touch me, Yeosang? Don't you want me? Don't you like me?"Just that easily, Yeosang's resolve melted and he pulled you into a hungry kiss, eliciting a moan from your smirking mouth. Mingi, on the other hand, took this as a chance to move forward. With only your panties in the way, Mingi ripped the flimsy fabric off of you while simultaneously working to get his cock out of his pants, not even bothering to take them off completely. "Tell me what you want to do to my girlfriend," Mingi said directly to Yeosang as he rubbed his tip on your wet slit. "What?" Yeosang could barely answer as his senses were filled with you. "Tell me all the things you want to do to (y/n) and maybe, just maybe, I might let you do some of them," Mingi was fibbing a bit because he was definitely really going to let his friend do whatever he wanted to you. But he wasn't going to outrightly say it because he still should have all the power. "I-I-" Yeosang struggled to even clearly discern what exactly it was that he wanted because, in all honesty, he only cared about being inside you and feeling good, experiencing pleasure with you with or without Mingi. Although, the idea of Mingi being there and maybe even telling him what to do made his cock strain even more in his pants.

The snap of Mingi's fingers broke Yeosang's daze and he was met with the sight of Mingi raising an eyebrow at him, "Don't look at her, I'm the one in charge here." It was new to you but you found it really hot the way Mingi was talking about you as if you weren't being sandwiched between two men, on the verge of being fucked by your boyfriend while pleasuring his friend.

An idea suddenly popped into your head and you had to bite back a condescending chuckle at the expense of the poor man under you. "Oh baby, you don't really wanna do anything to me, do you? You want me to do things to you," and in the following moment, a breathy "Yes" escaped Yeosang's lips as if it was a sinful little confession, the same time Mingi groaned and pushed himself wholly inside you.

Yeosang's eyes widened and his jaw slacked because, in all honesty, he had somehow expected to not be able to see much but obviously, he was wrong. "Oh fuck," he gasped, "OH FUCK," he gasped again when he felt your hand on his bare cock. When did you got him out? Your hand had pushed the bottom of his top upwards, revealing his well-toned abs contracting as you began pumping him with your hand. "Yeosangie likes it," you teased, pushing your ass back onto Mingi to make room for yourself, "I guess we finally broke you, huh?" you teased one last time before taking Yeosang in your mouth and started bobbing your head mercilessly, loving the way he filled your mouth just perfectly as opposed to your overly endowed boyfriend who had started thrusting in you.

Yeosang never considered himself a pervert nor did he ever experience the desire to know his best friends' private matters. Literally private, he even walked away when Yunho talked about liking his toe sucked (although that might be because it was so out of pocket), but he couldn't deny loving seeing you sucking his dick while being fucked by Mingi's. It honestly made him wonder what other things you and Ming do and discuss in private because if this was just a glimpse of what you two are into, he could only imagine what other things you two might do. To him or otherwise.

The way you and Mingi were working together was nothing short of mesmerizing to Yeosang. You both were so in sync with your movements. He took notice of how Mingi's thrusts were adapting to the pace of your mouth, making his movements more languid and more unifying. He couldn't help but think that it was almost as if Mingi was pleasuring him with you and the thought effectively made him blush.

But soon enough all coherent thoughts were pushed away when your hands started fondling with his balls and you weren't shy with your movements either. "Fuck, baby he likes that," Mingi laughed, absolutely enjoying seeing his girl reducing one of his best friends into a panting, whiny mess. The more Yeosang groaned and whined, the more Mingi was riled up. His eyes darkened the moment he noticed that Yeosang had absolutely conceded with the way he gripped your hair and pushed your face even closer to his crotch, effectively forcing more of his length down your throat. Mingi wasn't worried about you handling his friend because he himself was a rough lover. You had taken and initiated a lot of things with Mingi, he had even experienced you using your safeword on him. So knowing your limitations and capabilities which, in his mind were superb, Mingi felt a sense of pride in sharing you. In a way, he was showing you off.

As shy as Yeosang is, he had to admit that the obscene sound of your pussy being abused by Mingi's cock and you choking on his dick, along with the feeling of drool trickling down his balls drove Yeosang to his first orgasm. Your eyes widened when you felt cum shoot down your throat without warning, causing your fingers to grip Yeosang's tensed thighs for support, your nails dug through his sweatpants only making his hips buck into your mouth. Other than the soft pants and occasional moans, the grunt Yeosang let out was probably the loudest sound he had made that night. Even as you let his softening dick out of your mouth and opt to lick him clean, Yeosang still kept the majority of his whimpers to himself.

"Fuck yes," Mingi panted, his nose twitching as his hips moved wildly, chasing his own high as to join Yeosang's high. "Don't cum (y/n), don't cum just yet, I want you to keep everything in until Yeosang gets to fuck you."

Once the words were processed in Yeosang's head, it felt as though his dick was going to come alive again. "What?" he asked at the same time you whined in displeasure, wanting to cum especially after Mingi and Yeosang got theirs. "You heard me," Mingi smirked, his grip tightening on your hips, caging them still as he sent thrust after thrust until his body suddenly tensed, shooting a warm stream of cum into your awaiting pussy. The feeling of being filled up sent shivers down your spine and it was torture for you because usually, you'd already been cumming at this point at least once or twice. Or thrice if Mingi was in the mood so it frustrated you that you were told you couldn't cum. The frustration brought tears to your eyes that were soon wiped by Yeosang's gentle thumb, causing you to crack a small smile.

Unfortunately, your moment was ripped away when Mingi pulled you up by the hair, allowing Yeosang's eyes to zero in on your crotch, particularly the way your cunt was swallowing Mingi's above-average size, some of Mingi's cum spilt despite you being plugged full. Mingi didn't miss the way Yeosang's tongue darted out as if wanting to have a taste, of your cunt, the cum, or even Mingi inside you was unsure but there was a clear desire in his eyes that not even he wanted to hide anymore.

"Now, you get your turn," Mingi stated directly to Yeosang in a way that was almost hypnotizing that he didn't realize Mingi's hand had wandered to his cock that twitched in his touch. Yeosang's toes curled the more he thought about the fact that his friend had a hand on his cock, trying to get it back to erect while his girlfriend stood between them, grinding her hips to get some friction, looking at him as she bit her bottom lip as if it wouldn't affect Yeosang even in the smallest of ways.

Without wasting any more time, Yeosang pushed his body off Mingi's bed to take off his sweatpants quickly and captured your lips in a searing kiss again, enjoying your enthusiasm along with your boyfriend's ministration on him. "You're driving me crazy," Yeosang said against your lips, momentarily shifting his gaze at Mingi who was staring deeply into his eyes, "Both of you," he finalized, confessing how he was feeling.

Proud, Mingi squeezed Yeosang's cock once before sliding his out of you, "Stuff her," he commanded, "Stuff her before my cum leaks out." Thankfully, Yeosang's brain was intact enough to comply and within seconds, your head rolled back to your boyfriend's chest as Yeosang filled you in. It was obvious even from the first push that Yeosang's cock was nowhere the size of Mingi but what he lacked in girth, he made up in length. Yeosang, for the first time that night, almost broke his demeanour as he bit back a smug smirk when he saw you shudder the moment his tip kissed your cervix. The feel and the notion that it was Yeosang stuffing you with your boyfriend pressed to your back was what gave you the feeling.

The cum Mingi dumped in you served as a lubricant, allowing Yeosang to immediately started thrusting in you. Before, when you were still discussing with Mingi about this opportunity, you only imagined what Yeosang would be like but now, you can definitely say that Yeosang was more on the softer and sensual side which was a refreshing change because Mingi is passionate and aggressive.

"Fuck, that feels good, Sangie," you exhaled breathily with a satisfied grin on your face, not even realizing that you were practically using Mingi as a wall with Yeosang thrusting into you and his lips on your shoulder, leaving marks from him biting and sucking that would remind you for the next few days that another man had touched you under the watchful eyes of your boyfriend. "He knows what he's doing, huh?" Mingi teased, slipping a hand down to circle your clit with his middle finger, purposefully letting his touch graze Yeosang's cock every time it moved in and out of you. "He really does, baby, God, had I known-ah- that he'd feel this good I would've asked to fuck him a long time ago," you moaned, lifting a leg to hook around Yeosang's slim waist to get more access of him. You didn't even care that you were making a mess on Mingi's bed by letting his cum drip down to his sheets. To be fair, any concern regarding the sheets would've been gone the moment you and Mingi pushed Yeosang onto the bed. Thank God he's so pliable.

Yeosang happily anchored your leg with his hand, as he thrust harder, the way you talked about him with your boyfriend made him more desperate, particularly about the fact that he could've fucked you sooner had he shown any sort of interest in the matter. Luckily, it was better late than never.

"You know what would make it feel even better?" Mingi smirked.

You and Yeosang's bodies froze when you felt Mingi tapping the tip of his cock against your entrance. While you were simply caught off-guard especially since you were in such a deep sex haze, Yeosang was surprised by two things; the fact that Mingi would want to share you to this extent, and the fact that having two cocks in you at the same time seemed like a normal occurrence to you. The way Yeosang was looking at Mingi worriedly made the taller man want to pinch his cheek and call him cute. "Don't worry man, (y/n) can handle this," and with that, he began pushing inside you, skin to skin with Yeosang.

The pleasure Yeosang felt was unlike any he had experienced. There was this biting tension building in the pit of Yeosang's stomach simply from the way Mingi's cock felt dragging against his on top of feeling the tightness that closed in more and more when Mingi kept going.

You were faring no better.

Your eyes had rolled back into your skull and the leg that was around Yeosang's waist hooked him in even tighter as if you didn't want to let go. The position allowed Mingi to enter at a better angle and easier but the drag was still excruciatingly delicious.

Once Mingi pushed all the way in (as far as he could without making it impossible for any one of you to move), the three of you simply stayed in that position for a while, waiting for you to get used to having two men inside you first. Yeosang had the advantage of seeing your dicked out pussy and he felt both shame and arousal from enjoying the view.

"Holy- (y/n), you're so full," he said breathily, experimenting to see what would happen if he moved and when your knees buckled slightly, he immediately pushed his body flush to your front so you were effectively sandwiched between two men, "I got you," he ensured, arms enveloping your body.

Seeing as you and Yeosang were getting comfortable, Mingi huffed before he too started moving, setting a pace for everyone. The first few thrusts were rather slow and prolonged but the more your moans got louder, the harder the thrusts became. It came to the point where there were no real words coming out of either one of your mouths, only pants, grunts, groans, and moans. The sounds and smell of sex mixing together made Mingi think that he would be thinking about this moment for quite some time but he couldn't say that he was opposed to it because he wasn't.

"I need to cum," You whined, lifting your head that had dropped to Yeosang's shoulder to look at him, "Help me," you pleaded. Yeosang, too focused on fucking you, was momentarily confused. It wasn't until you took his hand and put his middle and pointer fingers in your mouth, licking and sucking on the digits, did he realize what you were asking of him. "Please," you almost whimpered pathetically. Yeosang's fingers went to immediate work on your swollen bundle of nerves, having it rub against his toned abs caused you to be more needy.

Between the two men, you were reduced to nothing but a doll for them to enjoy. Not that you were complaining because everything just felt all too good. Your boyfriend was practically rearranging your guts with his friend and his friend was helping you chase your orgasm.

"Mingi," you whined, "N-need to let go now," your hips were moving on their own to chase the high from both men's cocks and Yeosang's fingers. Surprisingly, Mingi gave Yeosang a knowing look, letting his friend know that he was sharing the control which was a good thing for you because Yeosang didn't even hesitate to nod. In fact, he was nodding eagerly, wanting to experience your release while he was still inside you. "Do it, cum (y/n), cum for us, cum for Mingi and me."

The way Yeosang spoke drove you straight over the edge and your legs snapped shut as you finally climaxed. Yeosang's breath hitched the moment your pussy contracted, forcing his cock to halt its movement and his hand to be stuck between your bodies. Unlike him, Mingi never stopped thrusting even when it became hard, he settled for a slower pace as long as there was still stimulation and it was a good thing that he did because thanks to his relentlessness, Yeosang was reaching his high. He almost came with Mingi who was already stuffing his second load in you but he had the good sense to pull out.

Just as he was halfway out, you whined and took a harsh grip on the hair on the back of his head. "No," you frowned, "Inside me," the demand was clear but Yeosang was still unsure. Despite his release teetering over the edge, he still took you and your boyfriend into consideration. Luckily, before he could do anything else, Mingi reached around and pulled Yeosang by grabbing his ass and shoving himself back into you so he could release inside of you. You gasped and your muscles contracted once again, causing Yeosang's cock to twitch and finally let go deep inside you. The thought of his cum mixing with Mingi's made him blush because, despite everything that had happened already, that one part will remain in his head the longest.

Neither of you dared to move; you due to still calming down, Mingi due to replaying moments and scenes in his head, and Yeosang due to wanting the moment to last longer.

Never would have Yeosang imagined that he'd be glad that he was cornered. The only thing he could wish for was for it to happen again. Little did he know that his wishful thinking was shared with the couple in front of him. It was just a matter of when they could corner him again.

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[inkykeiji]

what now?

character: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: eeeee happy birthday dabi!!! sorry i’m a day late, and sorry i keep writing angst for your birthday. this piece is set directly after dabi’s touya reveal, in that dingy little safe house he seems to love so much! please heed the warnings below and stay safe!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dom/sub dynamics, use of master/owner/sir, fem!reader, minimal prep, biting, branding, blood, the piece switches between both dabi and touya as names, size kink + size difference, spanking, objectification, degradation + dumbification, a lil bit of praise, dabi’s pretty mean when he’s fucking, dabi carries reader, toxic relationship, dacryphilia, choking

words: 8.8k

It’s dark by the time he returns, reeking of charred flesh and ash. He had stashed you away in a decaying little safe house—a place no one else knew about, a place that was his and his alone—and had told you to wait for him. He had promised he’d return to you, no matter how long it took, no matter what happened, he’d be back, pinky swear.

Touya never breaks his pinky swears. Dabi might, though.

You had seen his video. You had been watching the news just like he told you to, anxious, waiting for any sign or indication of trouble, of terror, but the heat and the dust had been too much for the news cameras to penetrate, and there had been no reports of casualties on either side. 

Yet. 

It’s astonishing to think that the whole world knows his name now—his true name, the one buried in his blood and his bones, the one staining his soul, the one he can’t snuff out, no matter how hard he tries. You remember the first time he told it to you. 

“Touya.” 

He had said suddenly, randomly, while laying in bed with you one night back at the League’s hideout—back before all of this was set in motion, back when there was just the gentle clink of glass sounding beneath the floorboards, followed by a muddled curse and the rapid mashing of plastic buttons. 

It was muttered out in the dead of the night, when the wind was stagnant and the moonlight shimmered through grimy windows, brilliance of the beams diffused by the dirt, turning everything a hazy silver, glinting off his stitches.

“Hmm?”

“That’s my real name. Touya.”

“Touya,” you had murmured to yourself, rolling the letters around on your tongue, allowing them to seep into your flesh. “It’s beautiful.”

“Todoroki Touya.”

Oh.  

“It’s still beautiful,” you said softly, after several moments of silence, feeling Dabi melt beneath your words, tender yet resolute. “Even if the man who gave it to you isn’t.”

“Yeah,” he had responded, though his voice had sounded weird to his ears; odd, off, broken. “Fuck that guy.”

And that had been it. You hadn’t made a big deal about it, or pushed him to tell you more, or badgered him with questions and curiosities about his past. You had just accepted it and continued on. 

He had offered up shards of information over the next few months, always murmured out in the dead of night, always a piece and never a whole, always something too jagged to fit with any of the other pieces of his jigsaw he had gifted you. 

But it didn’t matter. Who he was, his past, the name he carries around and DNA twined inside his body—none of it mattered. He was, and will always be, the man you love, irregardless of the name he was born into, and the curse it bears.

The harsh unlatching of that decrepit painting startles you from your stewing thoughts, your gaze snapping toward the noise just in time to catch Dabi crawling through the trick window, entrance hidden behind the heavy gilded frame. 

Your legs toss themselves off the fraying couch the instant his gaze meets yours, heart kickstarting thick bouts of adrenaline to rush through your veins, footsteps keeping time with the tattered exhales each bang of your heart sends barrelling up your throat, body colliding into his only a moment later.

He catches you with ease, laughing loudly as he sweeps you from the floor, strong arms locked at the wrists around your lower back. Instinctively, your ankles hook together at the base of his spine, fingers immediately wandering into the dirty hair at the nape of his neck, whole body wound around his own.

He’s still laughing, bright and breathless and so, so beautiful, even as he crushes his lips to yours, even as your tongue pries past his teeth and slams against his own. It spills down your throat in warm vibrations and you swallow it readily, greedily, hands sinking further into tufts of ink-tinged ivory and twining the strands around your knuckles, desperate to tug him closer. 

The tang of death stings your tongue, earth and copper and smoke, so poignant you swear you can taste their screams, those who lost their lives to his flames and Machia’s feet and the rubble left in their wake, but you don’t care.

You don’t care, because he’s here, he’s home, he’s safe and back in your arms, with his teeth clacking against yours and his spit flooding your mouth and his unruly little giggles consistently breaking the flow of your lips. 

“Did you see it? Huh? Did you see it?” he hurls the words into your mouth, lips still mashed against your own but spread in a smile, sapphire eyes twinkling.

“I did,” you confirm with a nod, tips of your noses nudging. “I did, it was brilliant; you were brilliant, baby.”

“I know,” he snickers, foreheads knocking together, breath wafting in small, ragged pants across your face as his feet begin to move, unable to stand still. “It couldn’t have gone more perfect, I swear to fuckin’ Christ. It was—It was better than I could’ve ever imagined. I can’t even believe it.”

Words continue to tumble from his lips in excited gasps as he twirls in wide lopsided circles slow and careless around the decaying little safe house, his boots conjuring small puffs of dust beneath their soles.

“I wish you could’ve been there, baby, honest. I wish you could’ve seen that fucker’s face, it was fuckin’ priceless, and—Oh! Fuck, how could I forget the best part!” 

Halting his whirling, he pulls back to look at you more resolutely, as if he has to see the whole picture, sapphire darting around your face all wild and erratic, his smile spreading impossibly wider; uncanny, inhuman, eyes glowing with the thrill of the secret he’s about to spill.

“Shouto was there, too! How much happier could a coincidence get!” 

“Shouto?”

“I wasn’t expecting him to be there, but seriously, it was the cherry on top.” 

His feet begin to move again, resuming his impromptu dance number, adrenaline thrumming in his veins, overflowing from his orifices—smile stretching, chest swelling. 

“His presence is what really made it spectacular, you know? Sure, dad was broken, but Shouto…” Dabi shakes his head. “Little baby Shouto was knocked off his fucking feet.”

“Oh, I can only imagine…” 

…How horrifying of a realization it must’ve been; how terrifying it must’ve felt to encounter your father’s worst mistake in the breathing, bloodied flesh.

“I doubt he even remembers me—” Dabi continues, “he was only five or so when I died; he barely knew me at all.” He laughs, but it sounds tangled, caught on something buried in his throat. “Imagine that! Your big brother, only ever a ghost haunting your life, back from the grave!” 

“I’m sure he was very shocked,” you giggle, pressing your forehead to his again, fingers combing through the hair at the back of his skull. 

“Shocked? Baby, he was beyond shocked. He was—He was—I don’t even have a word for it!”

Another laugh spills from his lips, jagged and squeaky and full of razors. 

And, oh, how breathtakingly beautiful genuine happiness looks on him, even if it’s tinted with derangement—the edges of his smile a little too sharp, the glint in his eye a little too vicious.  

“The whole thing sounds magnificent,” you admit, soft and genuine, lips brushing his own. “I’m so happy it went so well.”

“It was perfect,” he gushes in a sigh. “The only way it could’ve been any more perfect is if mom, Yumi, and Natsu were there—but I’m sure they all caught the broadcast.”

You’re sure they did, too. That news programme had been playing on every major screen across the entirety of Japan; you’d have to be buried beneath a rock to have missed it.

He’s still babbling, feet still hopping and skipping around with you cradled tightly to his chest as the anticipation of his return finally wears off, clears from your system, and you take a real, good look at him. 

And your heart sinks.

New burns have bubbled up on his cheeks, leaving only a sliver of skin between them and the scars below his eyes. Staples have snapped in half, hanging precariously from chunks of dead flayed flesh, their broken edges tinged an ugly black, burnt by Todoroki flames. Speckles of crimson are splattered artfully across his hair—though whether they belong to him or someone else, it’s hard to tell—the small remaining patches of healthy skin marred by dried black dye. 

“Baby,” you breathe, struggling to keep your smile from trembling, struggling to keep concern from seeping into your voice. “You’re filthy.” 

“Yeah, you should’a saw the other guy!” he giggles at his own joke, strident and sticky in his throat, but his smile is still so bright.

“And you’re hurt.”

He blows a dismissive breath from between his lips. “Can barely feel a thing, though—and I’m not even rolling right now!” 

“Still,” you say, a frown beginning to weight the corners of your grin. “You should let me clean you up.”

“But it isn’t even painful.”

“Still,” you repeat, tender fingers brushing strands of white back from his forehead. “I want to clean you up.” 

Begrudgingly, he allows it, sat on the closed toilet lid and continuing to chatter on as you tend to his wounds, words bubbling up on breathless excitement, massive smile still slapped, almost uncomfortably so, across his face.

Oxygen keeps escaping him before he finishes his sentences, everything bouncy and enthusiastic, and it’s such a stark contrast to the Dabi you’re used to, with his languid apathetic drawl and unhurried, uninterested speech. 

And despite the subject matter, it’s nice, it’s cute. 

He tells you about his father’s paralyzation and the tears in Shouto’s eyes and the horrified panic coating their faces as careful fingers dab and wipe and smear, meticulous in their task, devoted to their cause, your head nodding along with his endless recounter, emitting the perfectly placed ooh’s and mhmm’s, asking questions when the opportunities present themselves.

And even though you love seeing him this way, full of pure joy and exhilaration, you can’t quite kill the question sprouting in the depths of your mind, chewing on the back of your brain.

What now?

It’s on the tip of your tongue, searing your tastebuds, begging to be spoken. You try to swallow it down, but it claws at the back of your tongue, clinging, curling up in your throat and refusing to be forgotten. 

What now? What’s going to happen now that Enji knows of his existence? What’s going to happen the next time he encounters his eldest child, swathed in the flames he once cherished so dearly, praised so hopefully, eating away at his boy as his hatred burns higher, blazes brighter, consumes his blood and flesh and bones and hopefully swallows down the monster that bred him in the process? 

Will there even be anything left at all? Of either of them?

Does Dabi even care? Does Touya? 

You know he’s still in there, despite the fact that his heart’s been corroded by the bitterness that’s been festering inside of him for eleven years—you’ve seen him. 

You’ve seen him, trailing along with Toga, causticity eating at his teeth as he spits that she’s fucking stupid, this is so fucking stupid, but allowing himself to be led anyway, zero resistance as her tiny hands tug him along behind her bouncing form, feet following willingly. 

You’ve seen him, meticulously picking through the glass bowls at the League’s small Halloween get together, checking and then double checking that everyone’s favourite candy is there, growling that he really doesn’t give a fuck, actually, he’s just looking for his own all the while, despite the fact that his fingers have skipped over that particular chocolate bar several times. 

You’ve seen him, on those nights where Tomura just can’t get to sleep, sprawled out on the couch in the early hours of the morning, dirty boots an inch from Tomura’s crossed legs, staring blankly at his phone and waving Kurogiri off with a go to bed already, old man. 

 So what now?

“He tried to cool me down.”

The sudden switch to a quiet, monotonous voice snaps you from your tangle of thoughts, eyes refocusing on Dabi’s face, realizing you’ve rubbed a streak of his cheek near raw. 

“What?”

“Shouto. He tried to cool me down. With his ice.” A pause, a drop of blood, balancing precariously on his lash line. “Like…Like how mom used to.” 

His Adams apple bobs with the heft of a thick swallow, his eyes blank and unblinking, staring at your shoulder. 

The blood in your veins runs frigid, hand held rigid and hovering over his wounds.

“During the fight?” 

His gaze stays fixed on that spot as he nods, slowly, just once. 

“I was overheating, and he…” 

Another beat of silence passes, the sound of your own breathing echoing in your ears, harsh and fast with the rapid beating of your heart. The blood collecting along his lashes finally overflows, escaping their confines to pool in the crinkles of dead skin and coat gold in crimson.

“Hey,” you murmur, so gentle, so soft it inspires a second wave of blood, dainty hands cupping his jaw and tilting his face to yours. 

Thumbs swipe through the thick streams of scarlet trickling down his cheeks, smearing bright strokes across healthy skin. His eyes, red and glazed but tearless, hold yours for a moment, his nostrils twitching twice. 

Beneath your palms, the hinges of his jaw flex with another dense swallow, warped smile wobbling a little.

“Whatever,” he says, voice less than an octave off from normal. “Doesn’t matter, not important.”

It does, you want to say. It is, you want to insist—

“All I want to do now is celebrate the best day of my life with the love of my life.”

Saliva pools beneath your tongue, the threat of tears thick in your throat.

“Touya…” your eyes search his face, worry woven into the wrinkles between your furrowed brow. “It—”

“Please,” he whispers, so quiet it’s barely more than a wisp of air, his eyes closing briefly for a moment as he gathers himself, lids lifting a second later. “Let me have this.” 

You want to, you so desperately want to—want to allow him this space to be happy, unfiltered and unadulterated, even in all of it’s unhinged, brainsick fervour. You don’t want to ruin this for him, the self-proclaimed Best Day of His Life, but…

What now?

It’s nipping at your lips, leaving them tingling and twitching, but you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and suck, melting the question in the smothering heat. 

Now is not the time to ask. You will save this question, will fold it into a neat little shape and stash it away in your stomach, where it will rage and roar and demand to be spoken, where you will shove it down and stomp it into submission until it is time to be released.

You refuse to steal this moment from him.

“Okay,” you finally murmur, stroking his blood-slicked cheeks. “Okay.”

It’s hard to ignore the concern scraping at the walls of your skull, to disregard the talons tearing at your heart, to snuff out the flames licking at your lungs, but you’ll do it for him.

Always for him.

And for the first time tonight, his smile softens, sharp edges gone melty with love.

Large hands, hardened by blue fire and the ends of Marlboros, skim up your bare thighs, the callouses adorning his palms scraping roughly against sensitive skin, inspiring trails of chills in their wake. The hem of your dress pools around his wrists as his touch climbs higher, filthy fingers, with dirt caked beneath their nails and grime lining their cuticles, wiggling their way beneath a frilly pink waistband, curling almost protectively around your hips, tips digging into supple flesh just shy of too hard.

“A perfect day deserves a perfect end, don’t you think?” 

The question drips from his lips in a sultry murmur, stare heavily lidded as he tugs you down into his lap, a leering smirk smeared across his face. 

“Oh, yeah?” your arms wind around his neck, nose bumping against his own. “And what’s that?” 

“Stuffing my favourite girl full of my cum.” 

Lips trace along the edge of your jaw as he speaks, words leaving sloppy strokes of saliva as his mouth moves against you skin. 

“Over,” kiss, “And over,” kiss, “And over again, until it’s leaking out of her pretty little pussy, all over her pretty thighs, all over my pretty cock.”

“I think that—ah—I think that’s a great way to end the day.”

“Mm,” he hums, painting a flat, wide stroke of saliva up the column of your neck, the tip of his tongue tracing your cupids bow, nose bumping against your own. “It’s my favourite way to end the day.” 

His lips press to yours, tongues finding each other instantly, dragging across one another in crude, sloppy caresses, heavy and slow and firm as they grind, massaging together in little circles. It’s almost as if you’re trying to soak up his taste, to permanently imbue your tastebuds with it, to keep a little reminder of him—a single piece—with you forever. 

It’s messy, thick drool oozing from the seams of your conjoined mouths, but you don’t care, licking excess saliva from the corners of his mouth, sucking the dribble steadily collecting on his bottom lip, lapping up the foamy spit coating his chin staples, leaving them gleaming with you. 

Lips clash again, teeth gnawing their way into the warm, wet heat of mouths, desperate to devour any part of each another you possibly can, sucking gasps and mewls and laughs from one throat into another, inhaling shards of your souls and swallowing them down, burying them in pits of stomachs and depths of guts—keepsakes, kept safe.

You can taste his blood in your mouth, salty with the tears that can’t fall, trickling from the edges of his eyes. Unfurling from your mouth, the tip of your tongue licks a thin strip up his ragged cheeks, over dead skin and warm bumpy metal, sopping up crimson sadness and consuming it. 

You hold it for him, extract it from him, bear it with him, letting it soak into your heart where it can stay, for as long as he needs it to.

But that isn’t enough for him, because he wants something in return; he wants your blood, too.

Sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip, sucked taut and pressed tight to his tongue, a muted chuckle vibrating in his chest at your responding yelp. The strong hinges of his jaw flex, burrowing ivory deep, deep, deeper into your flesh, until the barrier snaps and copper explodes on his tongue, sticky and potent and so, so much. 

He refuses to release you, ribs rattling with a growl when you try in vain to tug your lip free from its captors, a sob hitching in your throat, followed by a wheezy whine. 

“Stay put, goddamn it,” he mumbles the words through his occupied teeth, tongue stroking your lip in the process. “M’not finished.” 

Your squirming stops almost instantly, body deflating into his own, and he huffs out a snort, hot against your face. 

The grip of his teeth loosens marginally, the tip of his tongue laving over the steadily weeping wound in firm, thorough strokes, tracing every indent his teeth left behind, dips rapidly swelling and filling with watered down blood, a mold of six teeth carved into your flesh. 

The strength of his suction increases, siphoning fresh blood from the tiny gashes, and he moans a little, eyes rolling back in his skull as fluttery lashes frame the whites, his hips twitching up. 

Sicko. 

His cock is already hard, rutting into your core in irregular little movements, the lace of your panties so delicate you swear you can feel it throbbing, his motions molding the dainty fabric to your soaking folds with every slight jerk upward.

Slim fingers flex, grip on your hips tightening and further burying his nails in your flesh as he forces you to begin rocking in his lap, grinding down to meet each roll up.

His lips have left your own again, his mouth streaked with your blood, a pretty pink shimmer glazing the bottom half of his face. Blood is still trickling from the six tiny slashes his teeth left, overflowing from the seam of your mouth and flowing down your chin in unbroken streams. 

Swiping a thumb through the thin floods, he smears sticky crimson across your skin, collecting a healthy swap of the substance on the pad of his finger—so much so it begins dripping down the curve to settle in the lines of his knuckle and his palm.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, repeating the action, painting you in messy shades of yourself. “Just beautiful.” 

A whimper slips through your lips, eager tongue catching his thumb and curling around the appendage—protective, possessive—drawing it into the heat of your mouth. 

He lets you guide him willingly, watches with lust-blown pupils as your lips pucker around the second knuckle, slick tongue cradling his thumb as it sucks it to the roof of your mouth, pools of saliva washing your blood from his skin. 

His breath is coming out in hot, hard huffs, exhaled through parted lips as your mouth tightens, swallows his thumb down further. His pupils pulse, gnawing away at his irises as they try to devour you whole, blue so thin it’s scarcely an outline tracing gaping orbs of black.

Your hips are still gyrating against his in erratic little circles, a single palm still clasped around your waist guiding you, encouraging you as he bucks in response, straining cock rubbing along your cunt. 

It’s just barely catching your clit, nothing more than teasing little grazes, dense heat simmering in the pit of your tummy.

You need more.

“Dabi,” you whine a little, wriggling in his grasp, a desperate attempt to garner more friction. 

“Uh-huh?”

“Touya.”

“Yeah, baby,” he answers, the nonchalance in his tone contradicting the mischief glinting in his eye. “What is it?” 

Chrome chips your nails as you claw at the heavy buckle of his belt, leather squeaking against metal. His free hand captures your wrists easily, holding them together in one palm, hard enough that the bones grind together.

“You want something? Huh?” 

Brows knitting, you glare at him, bottom lip quivering a little, fighting the urge to jut into a full-blown pout, fighting the urge to spit out what do you think? 

“You know.”

He does, of course he does. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to give it to you.

“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it,” he purrs as your chin puckers, your whole face scrunched up in a scowl. “C’mon, baby, c’mon, be a good little girl and ask for it.” 

Sapphire scathes your skin, almost as bright and burning as his flames, his unadulterated attention nearly too much to bear, confidence and brattiness withering beneath his scorching stare.

Lashes fluttering, your eyes flee his, tears forming to shield you from his heat, shoulders caving inward in an attempt to protect you from his unyielding scrutiny. 

“W-Want your cock.”

His tongue clicks in disapproval, a mocking frown slapped across his face barely suppressing his amusement, eyes shining, power flaring. 

“That’s not asking, sweetheart.” 

Swallowing thickly, you force your gaze to his, lids squinting a little beneath his brilliance.

“Can I please have your cock? Please?” 

“Please what?”

And although he’s acting unaffected, he can’t quite quell the spasming of his hips, jerking up in minuscule movements and grinding his cock into your sopping hole, panties clinging uncomfortably to your folds.

An eyebrow raises, a question of Well? I’m waiting… imbued in the subtle action. 

He isn’t going to give it to you unless you ask properly, like a good little girl is supposed to.

As expected.

“Please, Master,” you mewl, fingers curling over the edges of his belt and tugging, sharp leather biting into soft hands. “Please, please, let me ride your cock, Sir.”

Cavernous eyes observe you for a moment, scanning for dishonesty, grin growing when a whine vibrates in your throat, low and needy.

“Please?” you whimper, the leather of his belt creasing beneath your grip, squealing as it rubs together, a plead hitching in your chest. “Pl—Please, Sir.”

“Alright, alright,” he’s pacifying, acting as if he’s doing you some sort of favour, as if his cock isn’t jumping eagerly with each drool of pre-cum leaking from its slit. “Go on, then. Get it out.”

Words of thanks are pouring from your lips as your hands hastily undo his pants, yanking at the buckle, tugging at the zipper, shoving at the waistband, messy and urgent until his cock is finally released.

The stretch is nothing short of incredible, as it always is with him, little hole trembling as it swallows around his girth, drawing him in further and further, deeper and deeper, slow and steady until the head nudges your cervix, his hips twitching up twice, ensuring he’s hit the end, buried to the hilt with nowhere else to go, completely stuffing your cunt full. 

And despite the trademark ache, delicate flesh stinging as it splits into little fissures to accommodate him, your hips begin moving immediately, starved and raring, whimpering a little into his shoulder as you cling to him, every rotation of your hips radiating pricks of pain through your gut.

“God, you’re pathetic,” he snorts, but the insult is soft, edges dulled by love. “So fucking desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” 

“Can’t help it,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek along the curve of his neck, then his jaw, streaking your face with his sweat. “Missed you so much.” 

“I know, baby,” the tip of his tongue swipes through the blood still staining your chin. “Bet you missed my cock just as much, if not more.”

“Yes, yes, Sir,” you’re nodding in messy little motions, hips still rocking languidly against his own, clit gliding against his slick pubic bone in rhythmic strokes. “I did, I missed it s’much—”

A gasp slices through your slurred words, sharp air shoved from your chest as his hips begin snapping upward, rough and ruthless and without warning, the hands grasping your hips tightening around your flesh as he forces you to stay in place.

“Of course you did,” he grunts out, as if it’s preposterous to think otherwise. “I’m not at all surprised; my sweet lil slut can’t live without my cock, can she?” 

“Never, never, ne-never,” you babble out in confirmation, words stuttered harshly with the piston of his hips. 

Another laugh spills from his lips, airy and malicious in melody.

“No, never,” he rasps, ever-so-slightly breathless with the effort, dewdrops of sweat beginning to adorn his hairline. “Fuck, how would you ever get off without me, huh?” 

The question sends a pang searing through your heart, echoing a question you’ve been asking yourself often as of late—how would you ever survive without him? 

The thought stings your eyes, thick tears rushing to cloud your vision and rendering him nothing more than a watery blur of ivory and violet.

“I—I wouldn’t, Sir, I wouldn’t!” you cry out, rapid fluttering of your lids dislodging teardrops, streaming down your cheeks in glistening pairs. “I n-need you, I need you, always, always, al-always!” 

Your fingers curl against his shoulders, nails catching on staples, a hiss spit from the gaps of his teeth. They sink into grafted skin, dead and weathered and dusted in ash, and cling, knuckles locked and stiff as you try to pull yourself impossibly closer to him.

Gnarled flesh collects beneath the edges of your nails as your grip strengthens, chewing on his body and gathering it in your grasp, consuming whatever tiny slivers you can, a silent plead to stay.

“It’s okay, precious,” he hushes you, lips pushed into a mocking pout, contradicted by the smothering affection exuding from his eyes. “M’here, m’not going anywhere.”

God, you hope not. 

“Please, please—” 

And you drown yourself in it, drown yourself in him; his taste, spicy hickory and warm smoke, exhaled onto your hungry tongue, soaked up and swallowed down; his gaze, overflowing with adoration and intense attention, tying itself in a thick braided noose around your neck and tightening; his touch, stamping his prints into your flesh in blotchy bursts of blue, singeing his name with licks of sapphire that welt and wound, that crust and crater and scar. 

Your ribs squeeze, sucked inward by the voracious black hole your heart has morphed into—never sated, never filled, always vying for more—whole body curling beneath the strain.

But he’s right there to hold you, to steady you, to keep you intact, his hands the stitches you need to keep from unraveling.

“I know, I know,” he’s cooing as you choke on sobs, still scraping weakly at his back, “your Master’s gonna give you what you need.”

Slim fingers flex, soot-stuffed nails latching onto your flesh like tiny leeches, dug in nice and deep, using his grasp as leverage to control the speed and angle of your hips. 

Your feet skid against the chipped bathroom tile, the muscles in your legs tensing as you attempt to find stable purchase on the floor trying to aid in his movements, to fuck yourself on him.

It’s no use, though—it’s not like it matters, anyway, not when Dabi’s got complete domination over your body, over all of its movements and positions, manhandling you into whatever arrangement he pleases, reduced to nothing more than his favourite little plaything. 

“It’s real cute,” he’s telling you in that sugared condescension you’ve come to love so much, “that you’re trying so hard to help me.”

A whine escapes your lips, caught somewhere between apologetic and petulant, hips stammering as they begin to slow, and he laughs. 

“Aw, no, don’t stop,” his tongue clicks against his teeth. “Keep trying, it’s so precious.” 

And although his tone is taunting, full of characteristic derisive glee, his eyes are encouraging, begging you to keep going, for him. 

And so, you do, desperate to please him, the muscles in your thighs beginning to burn as you work in vain to pathetically hump away at him, hips knocking together irregularly as your footing continues to slip.

It doesn’t do much to assist him, but he’s happy anyway, a certain type of pride saturating his features, dulling the points of his wide smile, dimming the harsh brilliance in his eyes, turning his face into something a little softer, something a little sweeter.

Dabi keeps an iron grip on the pace—not that you’d ever expect anything different—forcing you to ride him hard and fast, bouncing you on his cock as his hips buck up in expert rhythm, completing your movements every time. The head drags over that engorged spot with each pound into you, sending a judder of scorching sparks to rush through your blood, each bout more intense than the last.

“God, look at you, you’re such a little slut for me, huh?” he pants out, rapacious eyes sweeping across your face, keen to soak up your expression. “Taking my cock like you were fuckin’ made for it.”

He’s really fucking into you now, jerking you on his cock like a toy, because you are—something that’s his to use whenever, wherever, and however he sees fit, something that’s his to own, to care for and splinter to bits and painstakingly piece back together, over and over and over again.

Tears of ecstasy are pouring from your eyes, cascading down your face in twin streams, excess dewdrops embedded in spiked lashes glittering with every rough pump of his hips.

It all hurts—always does, with Dabi, incapable of treating anything with any degree of gentleness; not a flaw, just a fact, oblivious to his own strength—but the pain only works to elevate the pleasure, pushing it higher and higher and higher until it’s choking you, smothering your lungs and stuffing your throat and spilling out your mouth in the form of messy, stringy sobs.

“S’been so long, Sir, so long,” you weep, nails burrowing further into his body, almost as if they’re desperate to reach his core—to pry past his ribs and claw into his heart and curl up in his soul. 

Because it has been so long, too long, most of Dabi’s attention soaked up by Paranormal Liberation duties and his own extensive planning as Shigaraki’s due date drew closer and closer, any scraps of time thrown your way whenever he had a spare moment to sneak off to this dilapidated safe house where he’d stashed you away, his visits sporadic and unpredictable. 

“You’re right,” he says, and there’s a tinge of melancholy to his breath. “It’s been way too long since your sweet cunt has been filled with your Owner’s cock, hasn’t it?”  

“It has, it has,” you’re nodding sloppily, tongue tangled in threads of spit.

“My poor lil pussy,” he pouts, and it’s so derisive. “Must be starving, it hasn’t been stuffed nice and full with my cum in forever.” 

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in agreement, “feels so empty without you, Sir, feels s-so wrong.”

“Aw, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he crudely laps at the steady stream of tears, vicious bouncing causing his teeth to nick your cheek. “I’m gonna change that.”

Chapped lips find your ear, slicked with saliva, his voice dropping an octave as he continues. 

“Because tonight,” he breathes, sweltering against your ear, his tongue darting from between wet lips to trace along the curve. “I am going to stuff you so full of my cum that—ah, fu-fuck—that it’s going to flood your cute lil tummy, that it’s gonna seep into your organs, into your fucking blood, that it’s gonna be leaking out all over the fucking place.” 

“Oh, oh, please, Sir, please!” 

The pleads come out as a single string, melded together with drool and garbled on your tongue. Little jolts of fire shoot through your body with the constant ramming of his hips, flames licking at your veins as they sear through them, the sharp slap of your ass against his thighs complementing his harsh pants and your broken moans.

“Yeah, I know, my little cumslut wants that so badly, doesn’t she?”

Your brain struggles to stitch together a sentence longer than his name, your mind gone delirious for his seed—and it’s an aching, it’s an addiction, sick and depraved and downright uncontrollable—little uh-huh!’s mercilessly fucked from your throat, head bobbling along with the affirmations.

You can feel it, a taut pleasure building within your body, a fluttering that furls into a tight ball of sapphire flame in the pit of your belly, pulsing a little faster, a little harder, a little more with every drive of his cock. 

“Oh, Touya, Tou—Touya!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, say my name.” 

A growl rattles against his ribs, whole chest vibrating with the force of it, and his head dips down, slick tongue painting strokes of thick, shimmering saliva across your skin, an artist priming his favourite canvas.

“C’mon, tell me who’s making you feel this good—” and although it’s supposed to be a command, it comes out as a plead, voice tapering off into a low whine, muffled against your shoulder. “Tell me, tell me.”

“You, Touya,” you choke out, the name mangling itself in your throat. “You, you, you!” 

“You’re goddamn right, it’s me.” 

Sharp teeth bury themselves in your flesh, mouth clamped over the junction of your neck, harder and harder and harder until the barrier of your skin finally splits, syrupy copper erupting on his tongue. 

His name shatters on your lips, a dark chuckle soaking into the wound when you arch your neck, stretched and strained and offering him more room to work despite the squeal of pain sticking in your throat

It’s all so much, too much, his teeth in your flesh and his cock filling your cunt and—and—!

“Gonna—gonna—!” 

A large palm collides with your ass, sick slap echoing off the cracked walls. 

“Is that any way to ask your Master for permission?” Dabi spits, voice dripping with disappointment. “God,” he huffs out a laugh, incredulous, but the mirth shining in his eyes is so bright, so blazing it almost hurts to look at. “My cock must’ve really made you go fucking stupid, huh? Don’t you know this body belongs to me?” 

Another spank lands against your bottom, a yelp hitching in your chest with the ruthless jackhammer of his hips, his fingers sinking into the burning flesh in a bruising grip, amplifying the sting of the slap, digging it deep into your tissues. 

“This body is not allowed to cum unless I say so—so ask nicely, you little bitch.” 

“M’sorry!” you cry out, a fresh torrent of tears flooding your eyes. “M’sorry, m’so sorry, Master—”

“Yeah? Yeah?” 

His other hand snakes between your heaving, sweat-drenched bodies, thumb and forefinger clamping down on your clit and tweaking, hard enough to force a scream from your tongue, sending spikes of pain rushing through your veins. His fingers flatten against the engorged little nub a moment later, rubbing hard, quick circles into it, a malicious little giggle squeaking in his throat because it’s so swollen, baby and Christ, you must wanna cream all over his cock so badly! 

Sounds of affirmation spill uncontrollably from your lips, head nodding in frenetic little motions, whole face shimmering and sticky with salt, snot, sweat. 

“Uh-huh? Uh-huh?” 

He’s mocking you, chin tilted up in superiority, staring down the bridge of his nose to regard you in patronizing pity, eyebrows raised and imploring you to continue. 

“Apologies are not asking, baby,” his grip catches your slippery clit again, twisting it harder this time, your eyes scrunching shut as a cry shatters on your tongue, fingers scrabbling against his shoulders, tearing out staples. 

He’s right, you know he is, but he’s making it difficult to speak, difficult to ask, difficult to stitch together a single word at all, let alone a full thought, when he’s playing with your clit like that, alternating between pulsing pinches and gentle caresses, the calloused pads of his fingertips providing just the right amount of friction. 

Your whole body quivers with the effort of holding your orgasm back, muscles pulled tight and taut with the strain, and he laughs—beautiful, breathless, bona-fide—cock twitching inside of you. 

“Pl—Please, Sir,” you manage to gasp out, entreatment forced from your tongue in a single thin breath. “Please, let me cum, please, please, please!” 

The pleads melt into one gooey stream as they flow from your lips, slathered in drool and dripping from the corners of your mouth in thick cords. 

“Yeah? You want it? You wanna cum all over your Owner’s cock?” 

“Yes, yes!” you practically wail, pawing urgently at him. “Please, sir, let me cum, make me cum, I wanna—I wanna—”

“Alright, alright,” Dabi’s pacifying, but his actions don’t slow, hips merciless with their assault on your body. “Go ahead, sweetheart, make a pretty mess on me.” 

Never one to disobey a direct order from your Master, you do, almost instantly, entire body convulsing as your cunt pulses around his shaft, gushing so much slick that it floods his thighs and soaks the waistband of his pants.

The constant circles ground into your sensitive clit as you spasm around him only work to heighten the pleasure, brain gone numb with the shocks of ecstasy coursing through your body, another flurry of jolts sent through your veins with every run through the routine, skin rippling with the impact. 

He doesn’t stop his assault even after you cum, vehemently refusing to let up even as the clenching of your cunt fades into something faint and erratic, even as violent tremors loop through your veins, entire body quivering in his tight grasp, even as your fingers claw weakly at his wrist, crooking staples and scraping scarred flesh, blood rushing to fill the gouges left by your nails. 

No, he doesn’t stop until you’re teetering on the brink of passing out, wandering in and out of consciousness, his name leaving your lips in a near incomprehensible jumble, slurred and heavy with spit. 

Only then does he scoop you up in his arms, your legs dangling limply from his elbows as his palms firmly clutch your ass, hard cock still aching and buried deep inside of you, and carry your pliant body to that worn, fraying couch, with the puffs of white cotton leaking through the polyester and the exposed springs groaning beneath your weight.

You barely notice the change in scenery, though, still blissfully fucked out, nerves gnawed raw  by his overstimulation, a soft hiss slipping from between your teeth as the scratchy cushion rubs against your bare bottom, a raised imprint of Dabi’s palm and all five fingers still rapidly swelling. 

“It’s my turn now, angel,” Dabi’s words drift over your body in an indistinct haze, vision fuzzing at the edges, your head nodding instinctively. 

“Gonna—Gonna make good on your promise, Master?” 

“I always do, don’t I?” 

And then his hips are thrusting, cockhead repeatedly ramming your cervix with every harsh plunge forward, leaning down to catch fresh tears with his lips. The tip of his tongue traces their salty trajectory all the way to your bottom lashes, matted into wet little spikes, before sucking a hickey into your cheek, tiny capillaries bursting beneath his tongue, staining the thin skin with swiftly developing violet.

Tufts of ivory cling to his temples in damp clumps, dried black dye liquifying beneath his heat and running down his cheeks, leaving streaks along the line of his jaw and the curve of his neck. Sweat collects in the dips of his collarbones, shimmering gently in the flickering light spilling from the television set, a wavering news reporter recounting the tragic events of today, stuttered by static.

“God,” he nearly whines, voracious eyes sweeping across your face, desperate to soak up your twisted expression of pleasure-tinged pain—the way your lids keep drooping as you struggle to keep them pried open, eyes speckled with stars, lashes encrusted with tears; the way your tongue keeps lolling out to draw your slick lip back between your teeth, muffling your whimpers and mewls, and oh, no, he can’t have that, a gentle tut of his tongue clicking against his teeth as his thumb tugs it free from your mouth, drawing out a stringy whine in the process.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you go dumb from my cock.”

The words leave his lips in an airy gasp, as if he can hardly believe you’re real beneath him, as if he can hardly believe it’s his cock making you look this way, a hand leaving your waist to slide along your torso, taking the hem of your dress with it, rough palm tracing every curve and dip and bulge as it crawls to your collarbone. 

He takes his time to admire you—to appreciate the sensation of your skin beneath his touch, fingers gripping, kneading, scraping, gathering palmfuls of you in his grasp before letting go again in a stunned sort of marvel—hips slowing to an uneven rutting, unable to fully halt his fucking. 

Keeping a firm, steady grasp on your body and pinning you in place, his free hand continues to roam, hardened fingertips sinking into the pretty blue lace of your bra hard with enough force to elicit a yelp from your lips, amusement tugging at his lips. 

“So, so beautiful,” he pants, eyes skimming your now exposed body, his fiery gaze outlining every edge, dedicated in committing every contour to memory. “Fucking look at you.” 

In all the time you’ve been with him, your body has become a scrapbook of Dabi. It tells stories of him—what he’s done, how he’s felt, where he’s been, why he did it—stamped permanently into your flesh using his teeth and his tongue and his flames, in raised flesh and puckered craters and glittering scabs.

You can’t tear your stare from his face, though, too busy worshipping him, sapphire eyes gaping and glazed as they travel along your body, soft huffs of breath escaping his lips, pushed from his throat with the tender heaving of his chest, saliva glistening on his lips, smeared so prettily across the staples climbing his chin. 

Dainty fingers grope at the air, pathetic and yearning, clawing at nothing, and he laughs a little, nothing more than a smooth, deep vibration at the back of his tongue.

His touch finds the apex of your thighs again, nails dimpling flesh as he spreads your legs wide—so wide your muscles begin to burn, taut beneath the strain—a quiet groan rumbling in his chest as he stares at your stretched cunt. 

Two fingers press into your clit, still slick and swollen, grazing over it in slow caresses—back and forth, back and forth, gliding easily over the puffy nub and snorting a little at the way your hole flutters, eager and aching, squeezing his cock, sucking him in, begging for more. 

So cute. 

Eyes wide and unblinking, he plays with you in a trance, slowly but surely building up pleasure in you, pressure in you, fascinated by the way your body so readily reacts to his simple motions, grinding circles and rubbing strokes and pulsing fingertips. 

It enraptures him, puffs of hot air exhaled through slightly parted lips as he watches just his touch bring you to orgasm for the second time tonight, obsessed with the way your cunt trembles around his cock, a surge of your essence streaming from your hole, embracing him in a thick, wet heat.

Your cunt gorges on him—so fuckin’ greedy, even after cumming twice—fluttering a little around the base of his shaft, still oozing so much slick that it’s glazing your ass and his balls, steadily seeping past the tight seam of your hole. 

It’s so pretty, it’s so fuckin’ pretty, baby, he’s breathing, eyes hazy with awe, hips drawing back just a little to watch the way your body clings to his girth, sheathing his cock in a shimmering layer of arousal. 

A palm wraps around the base of his shaft, the head of his cock still buried an inch or two in your straining cunt, and he jerks himself hard and quick, sick wet slaps echoing out among the room as his hand slams between your cunt and his pelvis. 

“Fuck, f-fuck—” 

His hips start moving on their own accord, too impatient, his hand nothing compared to the sweltering ecstasy of your cunt, and he releases his cock, sticky hand collaring your throat, pinioning you to the couch, his thrusts so vicious they’re jostling your body up the cushions, the palm crushing your airway keeping you in place.

Lithe fingers flex as their grip on your neck tightens, coarse pads of his fingertips beginning to heat up, blood in your veins bubbling beneath his touch. 

Your flesh melts beneath his hold, melds itself to his grasp, desperate to stay in his hands forever. 

The sting is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, his palm and all five of his fingers singed into your skin in the prettiest, most precious permanent necklace. You can barely breathe, exhales coming as weak little wheezes, and you swear his flames must be licking into your throat, down to your lungs and straight through your veins, incinerating your blood as your body goes numb, cunt clenching around his cock for the third time, wailing out shards of his name. 

But you don’t allow his hold to let up, to loosen at all, both of your hands placed firmly over his, holding it there harder, a loud moan escaping his lips, his hips stammering out of rhythm. 

“Brand me, Master, brand me, brand me,” you’re gasping out, voice wrecked and raw. “Make me yours, mark me as yours, forever!”

“Jesus Christ,” he nearly sobs, his thrusts turned brutal, primal, losing any semblance of finesse as he relentlessly fucks you, motions stuttering as he finally cums, a violent shudder coursing through his body before he collapses on top of you, drenched in sweat as his cock throbs, filling you to the brim with hot, thick cum. 

“More, Touya, more, more!” you’re crying out, scrabbling at his shoulders as you try to pull him closer, shivering legs latching around his waist as tight as you can manage as your hips roll up to meet his own, crudely humping him. “Gimme more!” 

A groan, dense and heavy, spills from his lips, his entire body rippling with hiccups as he ruts into you—automatic, instinctual, desperate to give his sweet girl what she wants, even if it hurts.

“Yeah, yeah, ye-yeah, Touya, Touya, fill me with y’r cum!” 

And so, he does, using your cunt to milk himself even as his form quivers with every rock of his hips, chills skidding across his flesh with every bump of his cockhead against your abused cervix. 

He keeps going, just like you begged him to, just like he promised he would, until your tummy is stuffed full and your cunt is leaking with his seed, until neither of you can take it anymore, bodies shuddering with every hump and drag and grind, deliquescing into one another, a puddle of limbs. 

You stay like that for a while, his body blanketing yours, breathing as one, being as one. Gentle fingertips trail up and down the column of his spine as his bones begin to fuse and harden again, tiptoeing over the trails of staples stitching dead skin to healthy flesh and evoking a mild shudder, pads of your fingers pressing into each golden suture, counting them lovingly, kissing every one. 

Eventually, after your fingers have traversed across all thirty-one, he shifts, manhandling you onto his chest as he shuffles himself beneath you, cradled between his thighs. 

“What now?”

You don’t mean to say it, don’t mean to shatter that delicate, post-orgasmic, precarious peace with two simple words, but they claw up your throat and pry past your teeth and gnaw on your lips, desperate to be vocalized, immortalized, heard.

What now? 

They’re uttered out softly enough, lips moving against his heart, warm breath seeping into his chest, the question worming its way beneath his skin. 

His muscles go rigid, his breath stalling in his lungs.

What happens now that his goal has been reached, Part One in his plan succeeded? What’s the next step, now that the world knows Todoroki Touya is alive and simmering in his hatred, fuelled by spite and ravenous with revenge?

What happens when he goes to face his father for the final time? And what happens if he never returns?

“Oh, I dunno,” he sighs out, but his voice trembles. “We could fix this place up, all nice and swanky, have a couple’a kids, get a golden retriever—y’know, real nuclear family type shit.” 

You laugh, but it comes out strangled, sounding strange to your ears, a distorted sob. 

“The dream, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he says, quiet, nostalgia for a time that has never happened, that will never come, aching in his words. “The dream.” 

A silence settles over the two of you, as tender as the edges of a festering wound.

“I have to do it,” he says after several moments have passed, and his voice is soft—softer than you’ve ever heard it before, softer than you ever thought him capable of—infused with apology.

He does.

You know he does. You understand why. That’s how the story ends, the final chapter he’s been drafting—you were never meant to be a part of this tale, written in between lines and margins, stuffed between words, twined throughout the pages nonetheless. But ultimately, this is his story—to write, to tell, to edit, to revise, to create, to conclude. 

You know.

But the acceptance sticks in your throat, furled into a tight, hard lump, so you nod instead, punctuating your affirmative with a kiss pressed to his chest, planted right over his heart. It soaks into his skin, burrows itself into pulsating muscle and finds salvation there, finds home there, a puzzle piece that snaps into perfect place—something that’s always been missing, now complete. Something he’ll take with him, when his pen leaves the page, when his book snaps shut.

You don’t dare look at him. You don’t need to. You can feel the stutter of his chest, hear the hitch of his breath tangling on hard truths to swallow, smell the copper streaming down his cheeks again.

And you hug him tighter. 

You know. And no matter how badly you wish to, you won’t stop him. 

[linalaine]

Birthday Boy <3

Scaramouche x Reader Smut

SCARAS BDAY SPECIAL 🫶

i love this man w my whole being

🪼🌸cw: afab reader, soft sex ?? , soft Scara, cunnilingus, use of cunt/pussy, Scara barely has any dialogue, inspired by the scene from Don’t Worry Darling >:)

Scaramouche has lived many years, many different lives. The concept of his “birth” date being something special simply has no meaning or significance to him anymore after so many years.

He doesn’t even think “birth days” apply to him. Since he technically wasn’t even born on this day! He was created? Awakened? Whatever. It’s not important. It’s not special. He’s not special!

So the idea of you spending your entire day cooking all his favorite foods and baking the few sweets he likes, even decorating the house and making him a birthday banner, once he comes home, leaves him utterly speechless.

You even got him presents..

In all his years of being, no one has ever gone all out for him like this. At most he received a simple “happy birthday” from his colleagues when he was back in the fatui. But never this. He’s never received presents, or had decorations made specially for him, or all his favorite foods laid out in front of him.

The way you rush to greet him with a tight hug. Face full of excitement as you smile up at him.

“Happy Birthday Scara! Surprise! I made all your favorite foods for you! And I tried to bake you a cake, but I know you don’t like sweet stuff so I didn’t add that much sugar. I’m not really sure how it’ll taste, but I hope you like it!”

Like it? He’s still speechless, staring up at the handmade banner. He can tell it’s handmade because he recognizes your writing and the way you write his name.

You notice he’s staring at the banner you hung above the table all by yourself! You turn your head to look over at it without breaking the hug.

“You like it? I didn’t really know how old you were turning exactly.. So I hope you don’t mind.”

Oh he doesn’t mind. Not in the slightest. He grabs your head, pushing it back onto his chest. His way of returning the hug. He can’t understand why you would go through such lengths for him..

It’s not even a special day. He’s not that special. His “birth” wouldn’t have made any difference at all if it never happened. So why? Why would you waste your day trying to make him feel special?

It makes him feel all weird inside! Like wanting to cry but not in a sad way! It’s confusing!!

Until he realizes for the first time in his thousands of years of living, he’s experiencing pure gratitude for you. And not only that.

He places his hands on your waist, backing you up into the table slowly. You give a confused yelp as he pushed your down onto the table, your hands quickly shooting out to clear the food out of the way to not ruin your work.

“Scara?.. What are you doing?” You ask while your back meets the tables surface.

Once you’re lied down, he pushes your legs and skirt up making you gasp in surprise as he lowers himself between your thighs.

“Thanking you.” Is all he says between soft kisses on the inside of your thighs, leading up to your purple lacy panties that you were saving for later for him!

He places a kiss to the outside of your panties, making you let out a shaky sigh as he slides them down your legs. His fingers are already separating your lower lips, allowing him to place sweet kisses to your clit. Resulting in a soft whine from you as a hand snakes down to hold his hair.

He can feel your cunt get more wet with arousal from his kisses before latching his lips around your clit and giving it a few sucks. Scaras thumbs stroking the inside of your thigh soothingly. He swirled his tongue around your clit, flicking at it before sucking on it again until it got all puffy!

You let out a strangled gasp as your back arched off the table, your hand involuntarily yanking at his hair. But it’s okay. He didn’t mind. You deserved this for being so amazing to him. He had no idea how he got so lucky finding you.

He swept his tongue inside you, his nose pressed against your clit while he dragged his tongue along your gummy walls, making your legs wrap around his head and whine.

You bucked your hips up into her mouth. The feeling of his tongue enveloping your warm gushy cunt was too much! You pulled at his hair again, trying to speak coherent words through your moans.

“Sc-ScarAH! Mmm.. ‘m gonna- gonna cumuhH!” You managed to breath out. His lips latching around your clit again to help you to your high.

“C’mon pretty girl.. Just like that.. Cum on..”

Scara whispered softly against your puffy pussy. His warm breath sending you over the edge as you let out a loud moan, your legs clamping around his head and pressing his face into your cunt as you came.

He kitten licked up and down your pussy, helping bring you down after your orgasm. After your breathing had calmed, he pushed himself up, not bothering to wipe its mouth before kissing you sloppily and whispering softly against your lips;

“Best birthday ever.”

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Part Of Your World ~ 3

PART OF YOUR WORLD MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,357ish

Summary: You break the surface and see a face that you’ll never forget.

Notes: Finally, after two years, I had inspiration to update this. Hope y’all enjoy!

Over the next few months, you would sneak out of the confines of the palace and go to Shipwreck Cove. Natasha and Clint would join you when they could, helping you collect trinkets from the wrecks and take them to your grotto. Your grotto was filled with all sorts of objects that you could only guess what they were used for.

One night, you were out late. You knew that you were pushing it, especially because you were alone. You were in your grotto, placing new items on the rock shelves and reorganizing where some of the items were placed. The full moon was shining brightly into the calm water, allowing you to see so clearly. You looked up, longing to swim up to the surface. Not too far away, you noticed a large, dark object coming closer along the surface of the water.

“What father doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” you whispered to yourself before you swam up to the surface.

You gasped when you broke the surface, feeling a little chill due to the air. You looked over to where you had seen the dark object and noticed that there was a large ship there. Curious, you swam closer. You noticed that the ship was made out of wood, with some of the wood sticking out enough for you to grab on. There was a larger hole near the top that would allow you to see the commotion you could hear coming from the ship. You climbed the side of the ship, finding a good place to balance yourself before peering onto the deck.

There were humans talking and dancing about, men and women. They seemed happy, like they were celebrating something. There were three men playing music and an interesting four legged animal running around the people. You watched as the animal began sniffing the floorboards, heading towards you. Before you knew it, the animal was in front of you, licking your face. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, quickly stifling it before anyone could notice.

“Alpine!” A man called. The animal looked toward the man. “Alpine, here boy!”

The animal ran to the man, jumping up and barking. Your breathe caught in your throat as you got a look at the man. He was gorgeous. His black hair was slightly shagging, but not much. His eyes were the most wonderful shade of blue, matching the ocean. He was tall and built well.

You had never see a human like this. Actually, you had never seen humans at all with your own eyes. You watched as the man stood there with the animal, who kept barking at him.

“Hey, come on, mutt,” the man joked to the animal. “What’s got into, huh, Alpine?” The animal barked again and turned toward where you were. You quickly hid from view. “Is something over there, boy?” The animal barked and went over to the opening. The man followed. “There’s nothing here, boy.”

“Silence! Silence!” A large blonde man shouted for everyone’s attention. The humans quickly grew silent. “It is now my honor and privilege to present Prince James—“

“Come on, Steve,” the man who caught your eye interrupted. “We’ve been friends since we were kids.”

“Right, sorry, Bucky. It is my privilege to present Bucky with this present from the court.” Steve motioned to a large, covered object in the center of the ship. “Happy birthday, pal.”

Steve pulled the cover from the object, revealing a large, gaudy statue of Bucky. He was holding a sword and stepping on top of what seemed to be a royal crest.

“Gee, Steve,” Bucky muttered. “It’s, err, it’s—it’s really somethin’.”

“Yeah, the court had it commissioned,” Steve stated. He seemed to not like it very much. “They had hoped it would be a wedding present, but—“

“Aw, come on, Steve, don’t start that again. It’s my birthday. You can’t still be sore because I didn’t fall for the princess of Wakanda, are you?”

“Bucky,” a woman with curly brown hair stepped up beside Steve, “the entire kingdom wants to see you happily settled down. We want to see that happen.”

Bucky sighed as he sat down on the railing of the ship, looking out to sea. “Well, she’s out there somewhere. Just haven’t found her yet.”

“Maybe you’re being too picky,” Steve suggested, only to be quickly jabbed in the side by the woman’s elbow.

“I will know her when I find her. Without a doubt. It’ll hit me, like lightning.”

Thunder sounded without warning as the winds picked up. You looked at the sky to see large, dark clouds rolling in quick. Lightning flashed through the sky before the sound of thunder. And then came the rain.

“Hurricane a’commin’!” A man frantically shouted. “Stand fast! Secure the riggin’!”

You watched as everyone raced to a place to secure the sails or down below the boat. The waves grew larger and larger, causing the boat to rock. It didn’t take long for you to lose your grip on the boat and go flying into the water. You swam back up to the surface in time to see lightning hit the sail, catching it on fire. The fire quickly spread down the large wood pole and onto the deck. Those on the boat rushed to the smaller boats attached to the side of the ship. Because the people were too worried about getting off the ship, they didn’t noticed the large rock in their path. The ship crashed into the rock, causing those not in the life boats yet to go flying off.

You were in shock, not knowing how to help or even if to help. Looking around, you tried to find the beautiful human named Bucky.

“Bucky!” Steve yelled from one of the smaller boats.

You followed where he was looking to see that Bucky was still on the boat, with the furry animal in his arms.

“Here!” Bucky shouted, tossing the animal down to Steve.

Before Bucky could jump, the ship exploded. You ducked down into the water to avoid being hit by the flying pieces of ship. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Bucky in the water, trying to swim to the top. You rushed over, not caring if he saw you.

~~~

Bucky was struggling to swim up to the surface due to how heavy his boots were. Suddenly, you were in front of him. His eyes quickly scanned you. He almost gasped because of two things: how beautiful you were and that you were a mermaid. You looped your arms around his and began swimming him up to the surface. Bucky gasped for breath as he broke the water. He looked around frantically for you but couldn’t see you. Before he knew it, Steve was pulling him out of the water and onto one of the life boats.

“She—where is she?” Bucky stammered.

“Where is who?” Steve wondered.

“The girl… The one who saved me.”

“No one saved you, Bucky.”

“Yes, someone did! She was a—“ Bucky stopped himself. He knew the implications if he said he saw a mermaid. He would either be declared as crazy or the whole kingdom would be hunting mermaids.

“She was a, what?” Peggy probed.

“Nevermind.”

Peggy and Steve eyed each other with both confusion and curiosity. Bucky’s eyes stayed glued onto the water as they began to row away.

~~~

Once you knew that Bucky was going to be okay, you had swam away to a safer distance. You watched from behind some floating pieces of the ship as Bucky was rowed away. There was something inside of you screaming to follow him. You wished that you could. You knew though that you had to get back before your father realized that you were gone.

You swam off, not realizing that someone was watching her from below. Wanda’s lips curled into a smile as a plan formed in her head. She had waited thirteen long years for a way to get to you and she was sure that she finally had it.

“Don’t worry, boys,” she whispered to herself. “Mommy’s almost fixed this.”

next chapter >

TAGLIST IS CLOSED - Taglist Information

[the-real-peter-parker]

you got any headcanons about the bat fam? I would love to hear

Embarrassed to say I giggled when I saw this ask. kicking my legs, twiddling my thumbs, you don’t know how happy I am to get asks again

Jason drinks black coffee but he secretly loves his 90% milk 50% sugar 3% coffee drinks. Don’t do the math. I’m right.

I think when he was still a criminal overlord he had to whisper his order off to some dude at the bottom of the ladder so if they try to gossip, no one would believe him. Also, murder

Tim tries giving him sugary coffee one day to fuck with him but Jason actually looks HAPPY and Tim knew he fucked up. Dick knows Jason and he gets him his caramel frappe with 5 pumps of French vanilla birthday cake sprinkles meth idk I don’t order drinks like that

Tim likes to snuggle when he sleeps, but he also has Bat Training™️ so if he wakes up he will smack the shit out of anyone. This includes the plushies he snuggles. Nothing happens to them, however all his s/o’s

Dick may be a grown ass man but if you put him on the playground, he is not responsible for your child. He might be the parent friend and one of the best options for a babysitter out of anyone in the batfam, but once he catches sight of the jungle gym, no one, not even God, can stop him.

Duke definitely fucks with everyone if anything mildly inconveniences him. Something out of place in his room? Racism! An accidental nudge when someone passes him? Racism! The only person genuinely concerned with their actions is Jason.

Tim does the same thing but with queerphobia. Jason baits him on purpose.

When someone drinks water around Duke when he’s wearing his suit, he will, every time without fail, ask them if they need any light to photosynthesise. Everybody hates him for it.

In order of people who spook others the most: Cass, Damian, Tim. Cass will enter any room and scare the life out of anyone, not intentional. Damian is a little gremlin child. I would be scared to deal with an ankle-biter like him. You can open a door and he’ll just be standing there with his scowl on his face. Scaring is not completely intentional, but he does want to intimidate. Tim sits too quietly. He’s so used to being on electronics that he will not move when he sits. Completely intentional. He loves watching the blood run out.

Damian does bite. It’s rare, but he’ll fucking do it. Your chances of getting bit by Robin is higher than by a cat as a Gothamite. Robin is responsible for multiple human-bites-human cases. He breaks the law for a living. What’s another one? And yes this is based on NYC stats. I live here I’m allowed

[ace-and-ink]

do you ever think about what we might’ve been?

do you ever think about me?

do you think about me at all?

do you think about how we were kids?

do you think about the secrets we shared?

or the space?

what about the way we were vulnerable only with each other?

i only ever saw you cry in your room

we only ever talked about love in your closet

such a cruel case of irony we never picked up

and i only ever let my fears exist with you

i only ever let you know how everything hurt me

only ever let you know how everything terrified me

do you see my name in those films we watched together?

hear my name in that song you showed me like i hear yours?

do you dream of me like i do you?

where i’m just there like i never left

and you can reach out and touch me

hold my cheek and hold my hand

or where i’m the only face in the background you can make out

when mine is the only name to roll off your tongue without thinking

and do i leave you with the same ache in your chest

and the same twist in your gut?

do you think you were in love with me back then too?

do you think you might still be?

or do you think you should leave it behind you?

is it best buried with our childhood?

is it best to chalk it up to youthful naïveté

and make it nothing more

nothing less?

because i fell in love with a war

and all the ways it killed me

in fact i know i loved it because it killed me

i loved it despite every point-blank bullet

and all the landmines i never saw

maybe because it would patch me up after every time

or maybe it brought me back to life every day

because it knew i loved it anyway

and maybe it loved me a little too

but that’s the thing with little soldiers running around

they don’t always know what the war they’re fighting is really about

but i know what i was fighting for

but now i’m wondering if you’d ever fight it for me

if you’d break your legs for the fall

if you’d watch my back as i leave

watch my back and never let me know

that you just wanna hold me close and keep me safe

you left your man behind in the car

because you couldn’t bear to watch me walk by alone

you couldn’t let me go without killing me in your arms one more time

then the radio went silent

and i never felt your vice again

it skips and plays our song every now and then

but it’s never when you’re around

and i can’t grab you by the waist

can’t pull you into my space

can’t mash your lips into mine

can’t act like i won’t let you take control anyway

can’t act like i won’t love it anyway

and i could’ve loved you

i could’ve loved you a thousand times

across a thousand lives

but in the one that i do

i cry it out to a back that’s turned to me

to ears that don’t hear me

i beg for it from hands that don’t touch me anymore

and am i right to beg for it?

should i just bury it in the backyard?

put the movie up in the attic

make it so that song always skips

burn the pages i wrote for you after i woke up

drink it away until your face is a blur?

or am i allowed to want you?

can i wish you happy birthday for the first time in years?

walk around downtown in hopes of seeing you run from your car again

think about you before i sleep so i can dream of you

write a notebook of poetry for you too

smoke until i’m high enough to cry over the thought of you?

or were we just kids

and it’s nothing more than that?

but i think i’m willing to take your punches again

but would you even mean them?

i think about what you might be like now

i wonder if i came back

you might stab me a bit more

you might hold me tighter than before

you might leave me a corpse by the end of the night

and i might love you still in the morning

do you ever think about when we were kids?

do you ever have dreams where i’m there

and do you hurt the morning after?

do you ever think what i might be like now?

do you ever wonder where i am?

do you think about me like i think about you?

do you ever think about me?

— is there room for me in the back of your mind

[badwithten]

Happy Birthday I.N.

PAIRING I.N. x fem!reader

GENRE angst, apocalypse au

WARNINGS zombies lol, death, murder, mentions of abuse, guns, unedited

WORD COUNT 889

A/N ok so was supposed to be writing my valentines piece but then remembered it was a certain someone's birthday,,, so here is my birthday piece for jeongin! i always get intimated by writing for birthdays bc i feel like it needs to be fluffy but i’m so awful at that so instead i’m writing about my current obsession lmao 

Yang Jeongin, a weak teenager in highschool. Small and scrawny, easy to be picked on by boys who hit puberty early. Y/N L/N, a new student at the local school. Left out and lonely by popular girls with their cliques. 

Yang Jeongin, the first friend you made in highschool. The first one to reach for you and offer you a helping hand. The first boy you kiss. The first boy you loved. You found yourself at home with him, both in your heart and quite literally as your roommate. 

Despite only renting with him, it was still your first home. The first place you could call your own and Jeongin was there with you every step of the way. The both of you were still young, he was still a small teenage boy and you were still a naive love sick girl. 

He held you in his pale arms, tighter than what was comfortable for you but you lay in peace allowing him to do so. It was his way of saying I love you.

You sang to him as he held you, it was off key and pitchy but he listened anyway. It was your way of saying I love you. 

That day it happened was an awful awful day. You witnessed men eat each other. Making eye contact with them showed you the hunger of the gods that they were cursed with. An everlasting ditch in their stomachs that made them ravenous. It took the light that Jeongin held in his eyes to ease the panic in your soul. The truck he drove out of the city was enough to keep you safe for now. 

Yang Jeongin, a man obsessed with proving himself. Muscles built and scarred, proving to others how strong he was during this madness. Y/N L/N, a lost woman who turned to helping others. The smell of alcohol and the prick of needles taking up her days

Yang Jeongin, the only friend you had during the chaos that the world was currently in. The only one to help you and care for you wounds after days of helping others. The only one you ever cried to. The only boy who ever saw you bleed. 

Despite the loneliness of the apocalypse and your desperate need for company, specifically Jeongins company, you found his trips lasted longer. His returns becoming shorter. Bit by bit you watched him break down and leave you. The both of you were no longer young, he was now a rugged man who went through war everyday to fight for your survival but you were still naive, convinced that one day this would all get better.

He screamed at you, made you cry if it meant you would stay home and not put yourself in danger. It was his way of saying I love you.

You begged for him not to leave but when he did, you would wait for him like a child despite the abuse he put you through. It was your way of saying I love you. 

The next awful day in your life was the day he told you he was leaving for good. A new organisation came up that promised the saviour of humanity. But you knew what these ‘forces for good’ did to people. It was just a way for egomaniacs to get free labour out of lost souls. Without much thought he packed and left you alone. Nothing could keep you safe now.

Yang Jeongin, a man consumed by blood lust. He was convinced what he was doing was for the greater good, in reality it was only benefiting those above him.  Y/N L/N, a wandering  woman consumed by heart break. Each day she walked til her legs gave out, desperate to find the one she lost. 

Yang Jeongin, the last face you’ll ever see. The last person to touch you, to feel your skin while it was still warm. The last person who will ever hear your screams. The only boy who ever made you bleed. 

 Despite the relationship you once had with him, here he was, standing over you. The barrel of a gun stared down at you. His once loving hand held it to your head. His beautiful face was covered by fabric to hide who he was. But you tell who he was from a mile away. You thought he would have recognized you as well. Yet he shot at you anyway, across the field from where you began to enter his campground. Even bleeding out you felt a sense of security as he approached you, he would realise his mistake and help you. 

You soon discovered he was only there to finish the job. 

He didn’t say a word, only shaking his head in disappointment as you lay on the ground below him, bleeding into the earth. It was his way of saying you should’ve stayed where he left you.

You silently begged for him to change his mind. Tears flowing harder than they ever had. The apocalypse, the killings, it had changed it beyond the point of recognition. You don’t think he even knew who he was anymore. You reached forward and pushed the gun against your forehead. It was your way of saying I forgive you for what has to be done. 

[anyoneseenadam]

can you let your baby be my girl?

pairing: Fenrys Moonbeam x Rowaelin!reader (Throne of Glass)

summary: You didn’t get to meet your parents best friend until you were old enough to be surrounded by discussions of war and politics. But their plan on making you wait until you were off age may have backfired as you meet the handsome, older white wolf. 

warnings: Age gap (reader is of age), smut, dom/sub dynamics, fighting, swearing, size kink, breeding kink (not quite sure how that happened), cute fluffyness at the end

wc: roughly 4K

a/n: damn I’ve had a long writing break, my bad. not sure why this has such a big bredding kink as i don’t really want kids, but also little Fenrys pups makes me happy so, lemme knonw what you think <33333333 

request :)

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You had only met Fenrys officially a few weeks after your eighteenth birthday. You had heard stories of the glamorous white wolf all through your childhood and had occasionally snuck glances through half closed doorways with your siblings when you were supposed to be in bed. But he was rarely in your house for long and your overly protective father was determined to keep you all away from any business surround politics or war until you were at least eighteen.

You hadn’t expected it when you first met him, no warning from your parents when he arrived one night, bloodied up and leaning heavily on your doorframe – eyes half closed.

You panicked, standing in your nightgown as you ushered the handsome man in and into a kitchen seat, he watched silently as you rushed around on bare feet gathering warmed water and wash cloths to clean him up with. Thankfully, none of his cuts were major so you simply bandaged them in silence, barely looking up from your job until when you finished tying of the last one and moved to step away he stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm.

“What’s your name pretty?” he asked, voice deep and low as he watched your eyes widen – shyness clouding your features as you mumbled it softly under your breath.

“(Y/n).” he rolled your name around his mouth, eyes trailing up and down you slowly as your cheeks burned at how little you were wearing in front of a complete stranger, your nipples catching his attention for a split second. They had hardened in the cold room, and he fought to push a breath out, forcing his eyes to meet yours again. “Well, thank you (y/n).”

After his words you scurried off to your bedroom an aching between your legs as you hid under your covers. You couldn’t help yourself but grind against your pillow that night, face hidden in shame as you thought of his handsome face and how his eyes had lingered on your thinly veiled body.

The next time you saw him you kept more of your dignity, fully dressed in a pale pink gown as you attended the first ball you were allowed to go to – no longer hiding behind the door and watching as the beautiful adults roamed around the room. Though you might as well off, as you felt incredibly out of place – your elder siblings talking to people with familiarity as you stumbled through small talk and clung to the few people you knew well.

You met Fenrys gaze from across the room and instantly felt a white-hot rush of shame fill you as his gaze once again trailed, suddenly feeling silly in your pink dress. But he excuse himself from his conversation anyway and moved to talk to you, unable to bear the sight of such a pretty girl standing afraid and alone.

“So I’m going to take a chance and guess your favourite colour is pink, given we’ve met twice now and it’s all I’ve seen you in.” you laughed at his comment, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I guess you’ve got me,” you retorted, and he gasped, a hand on his chest.

“She speaks!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands, “I was worried I’d scared you off when our first introduction was you keeping me from bleeding out.”

“Oh,” you waved your hand dismissively, “I didn’t do much you were fine.”

“No way darling, you saved my life. I’ll have to find a way to pay you back some day.” He winked and you felt your toes curl in your shoes as you stared up at him with a shy smile. Unbeknownst to you however, your eldest sister has sidled up next to you and as she saw your shy disposition she leapt at the chance.

“You need to pay her back?” she asked, and you whipped your head to face her – your eyes widening at her mischievous facial expression. “We’ve been trying to find her a suitable trainer because she gets too embarrassed around anyone whose tried.”

Fenrys eyes lit up, “Is that so?”

“And you’re one of the best warriors in the world, or so mum tells us,” She egged him on, and he winked at you again.

“Well we all know that’s true, you okay with this sweetheart?” You squeaked out a yes and he grinned wolfishly, “Perfect, meet at eight tomorrow then?”

“Eight am?” you pouted, and he laughed, a large hand moving to squeeze your chin.

“It’s a good habit to get into,” he said as he walked away, leaving you hot in the face and core as you watched him retreat.

--

You had been training together for a month and a half and you were slowly losing your mind. He had begun staying more permanently at your family home, and you were suddenly eating breakfast together and walking to buy a loaf of bread or bouquet of flowers with him when he errands to run and wanted company.

In Fenrys mind he couldn’t be any clearer in his advances. He was careful around your parents of course, not sure how his close friends would feel about the attraction he harboured for their young daughter. But when he placed his hand on your lower back and leaned down to whisper a crude joke in your ear – watching as you crumbled beneath his hand, eyes widening as you giggled cutely.

Your shyness had also started to melt away around him as you held conversations and eye contact with him. But along with that your fantasies had also started running rampant, nights spent grinding against your hand or pillow as you muffled your cries thinking of the older man you were so infatuated with.

The morning everything changed was right after regular a night of dreams, your face hot as you pictured him above you – strong arms holding himself up as he ground into your pussy, hot breaths in your ear with every pant. You imagined him calling you His pretty princess, His good girl. And you could feel your need for him becoming more than your need to breathe with every daydream.

Fenrys had decided on hand-to-hand sparring for that morning, wanting you to always be prepared even if you didn’t have any weapons on you at the time. You had been making steady process and during one of your fights you had somehow gained the upper hand, flipping him onto the floor and kneeling with your forearm on his throat – pressing just hard enough to show your victory. His dark eyes watched you from where you were perched on his chest, a knee over his heart as you smiled down at him, sweaty, breathless, and looking like his walking fantasy on legs. Or, on knees he supposed.

He held eye-contact, not speaking as he watched you come out of your shell before him – the knee that perched on his chest sliding off until you sat straddling his chest, releasing your arm from his throat. Neither of you were making any effort to move from the position you found yourselves in – Fenrys nostrils flaring as he smelt your obvious attraction, but when you tried to move and hide away he kept you attached to him with a firm hand on your hip.

“You okay there princess?” he asked, voice low and deep as you let out a muffled whimper. The sound made him grip your hip even tighter until you were sure he might leave bruises.

He raised his eyebrows and you nodded quickly, making him chuckle. “You look so pretty like this, just sat exactly where you should be.”

“Fenrys…” your voice trailed off at his insinuation.

He sat up, holding you closer as his voice dropped an octave, “What? You don’t think I’ve heard you,” his face dropped down to your neck, “Smelt you. Sat all pretty up in your bed, what do you think about huh?”

Your face burned with embarrassment, and you shook your head – not meeting his eyes.

“C’mon sweetheart. I already know it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I could even let you in on a little secret.” You looked at him, every muscle tensing as he moved closer – pushing you directly onto his crotch were you felt a prominent hardness.

“That hardly feels little,” you mumbled, and he laughed, canines bared as you watched him intently. He went to reply but you heard an obvious cough before you could, whipping your head around to see your uncle Aedion standing by the door with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised at your behaviour.

You scrambled out of Fenrys lap and straightened up, looking sheepish as you stumbled around an explanation of your training with Fenrys. He gave you a thin-lipped smile before suggesting your older brother was looking for you, you took the hint and ran off, looking back at Fenrys who was glaring down your uncle just before rushing out the door.

You hid in your room all day, too ashamed to face Fenrys who had seen you at your most vulnerable now. You snuck downstairs to grab food for your room in between mealtimes and feigned sickness when your mum came looking for you – deciding to spend your day soaking in Epsom salts and reading.

But you also knew you could only avoid Fenrys for so long, so when you heard a knocking on your door as you changed into your nightgown – the same one you had been wearing that first morning – you froze. You didn’t reply, instead quietly walking to your bed in order to pretend to be asleep, but before you could pull the covers up to your chin that deep voice that plagued your dreams.

“I can hear you moving in there princess,” he spoke, “Let me in.”

You paused, an internal battle going on in your head, debating whether you could even stand from the nerves filling your body. You felt bad for the man standing behind the door though so you spoke before you could second guess myself, “It’s unlocked.”

Fenrys smiled behind the door, resting his forehead against it for a second before trying the handle and finding the door opening. He closed it behind himself as he entered your room, bathed in candlelight with you – cross legged in the middle of your bed, surrounded by soft blankets and cushions. He thought you looked like a dream.

“Hi,” you squeaked out, in awe of the tall man leaning against your bedroom door.

“Hey sweetie,” he started walking towards you, “We never got to finish talking earlier.”

He perched on the side of your bed and reached a hand towards your face, cupping your jaw. You smiled softly at him and laughed, “Wasn’t much talking anyway.”

“Aha I suppose it wasn’t” he moved his hand, trailing down your neck and pausing on your collarbone, his thumb massaging your shoulder, “I still want to continue however.”

You blinked at him, scooting closer as he smiled at you, grabbing onto your waist to pull you back into his lap, “I need to know you want this with words before we do anything dear, because I’ve been thinking of you since we met, and I don’t want to risk losing you because we move too fast.”

“I want it!” you spoke quickly, heat spreading through your chest and face, “I mean, I like you too.”

He smiled at you, “Okay princess, I’m all yours now. But I have a couple questions first.”

“Okay,” you said as he leaned forward to press a tentative kiss to your neck, testing the waters.

“Are you a virgin sweetie?” he asked, and you shook your head making him look up, a quizzical expression on his face.

“You let someone else pop your cherry huh?” he asked, and you shoved his chest lightly, “Well, it doesn’t matter now anyway since I’m going to be the only one touching you after tonight.”

“Yeah?” you asked, insecurity clouding your features and he pulled your face close to his – resting his forehead against your own.

“I’m in for the long-haul honey, I don’t just want your body you know.” He said and you smiled, wider than you had in a while. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded and he moved in, dominating your mouth quickly with his rough kisses as he gripped the back of your head with one hand and your waist with the other. He pulled you as close in as he could as you gripped his shoulders, you may not be a virgin, but you were certainly inexperienced compared to the man who was centuries older than you.

He guided you onto your back on the mattress, your legs spread as the wound themselves around his thighs. His hands started wandering slightly as you kissed, one smoothing over your stomach as he felt the silky material of your nightgown.

“Fuck darling, do you have any idea how crazy this drove me when you cleaned me up that night? Wanted to bend you over the table and take you at once.” You whined, trailing your teeth over his neck before latching onto the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “You probably would’ve let me as well, looking at me with those innocent doe eyes that were just begging for me to fuck you.”

“Wanted it so badly,” you admitted.

“What did you want? No need to be shy around me baby girl,” he moved down your body, resting his face on your stomach and gazing up at you.

“Wanted you to fuck me,” you said, voice quiet and shy.

“Good girl,” he praised, “And what do you want me to do now?”

He trailed a hand under your nightgown, tugging on the band of your underwear slightly until you lifted your hips – allowing him to pull off the lacy pink fabric. He smiled at them in his hand and pocketed them as you giggled, looking away.

“You’re gross,” you whined, and he tutted.

“Don’t avoid the question.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you repeated quietly, and he shook his head, a disappointed look on his face making you worry.

“Before that, maybe while I’m down here?” he egged you on and you felt your pussy clench as you realised what he meant.

“Isn’t that… dirty?” you asked, nervous.

Fenrys frowned and kissed below your belly button as he pulled your nightgown up. “Not at all baby, there’s plenty of dirty things I want to do to you but that’s not one of them.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Fenrys eyes lit up.

“Oh baby I’m sure, I’ve been dreaming about this.” His words the only warning you received before he dived headfirst into your pussy.

He licked a long stripe from your tight hole to your clit, sucking there for a few seconds but not staying too long as he became acquainted with you. His hands started exploring too as your own tangled themselves in the long golden locks he had piled into a rough bun on top of his head. You tugged and pulled at them as he hoisted your legs over his shoulders and pushed his tongue inside of you, his nose nudging your clit with every thrust.

You felt your climax build embarrassingly quickly with the talent of the man between your thighs and you tried to tug his hair in warning, legs shaking as you felt pressure build in your lower abdomen.

“Fenrys,” you managed to moan out, “I’m going to cum if you don’t stop that.”

You felt his smirk against your cunt as he pulled away just enough to slide a finger into you, “And why would that make me stop?”

His lips attached viciously to your clit as you cried out, his finger rubbing against the spongey spot that always made you see stars until your pretty legs clamped around his head and you cried out his name, muffling yourself with your hand to avoid waking up your parents. The muffled cries were music to Fenrys ears, but he instantly started planning where he could take you that would allow you to scream as loudly as you wanted.

As you came down he crawled up to meet you, kissing you so you could taste some of the sweetness on his tongue. You fought to keep up between panting breaths but had to pull away – gazing up at him with unbridled love as you stroked your thumbs down the twin scars on his face.

“You taste so sweet princess,” he praised, watching with a smile as you melted under the words. “Later, I’m going to eat you out until you have no feeling in your legs, but right now I need to fuck you.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” you giggled, and he playfully bit down on your neck before sitting up and pulling his clothes off. You followed suit, pulling your nightgown over your head, and sheepishly covering yourself until he – dressed in nothing but his boxers – grabbed your hands and pulled them over your head.

You squeaked as he admired your naked body openly, his free hand trailing down the curve of your waist before he dove into your breasts, biting roughly on your nipple and grinning when you squeaked.

“Fenrys!” you squealed batting him away, but he looked up at you with dark eyes.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this away from me,” he growled low under his breath, “All mine now at least. No one else is ever going to get to see you like this.”

You felt your arousal rear its head once again at his possessiveness as he gripped your waist and pulled you, so you were completely beneath him. His large frame covered your own and you reached a hand – which now appeared dwarfed next to him – to smooth over his chest, marvelling at the bronze skin that covered extensive muscle and tone.

You dared to let a hand venture downwards while he was distracted groping your chest and swearing lowly under his breath. You cupped his impressive bulge and felt your eyes practically bug out as you realised just how large he was, palming him lightly.

You looked up and met his gaze, “Can I?”

“Another night sweet girl,” you pouted, and he kissed it away, whispering against your lips, “right now, I need to fuck you, or I might explode.”

“That’s fine then I guess,” you were still pouting, but he laughed.

“Trust me, I’ll make it far more than fine.” He let you push his underwear down, his hard length bobbing up and hitting his toned stomach as you gulped slightly. It appeared even bigger now you were seeing it instead of just feeling it and Fenrys sensed your worry.

“Just focus on me darling,” he smiled, “I’ll take care of you, we can go slow okay?”

He frowned when you shook your head at him, “Don’t want you to go slow,” you whispered, and he tilted his head.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his control hanging on by a thread as you spread your legs further, inviting him into the slice of heaven between your thighs, your hole glistening and begging to be filled. “I’ll split you in half, you’re only little compared.”

“I want you to,” you reached to guide him to your hole, “I want you to split me in half.”

He grinned at you, reaching down for a kiss before he started pushing in. Your nails scarped down his back as he entered you, breathy moans releasing as you bit down on his neck to avoid getting too loud.

“Want me to split you in half huh?” he asked, “Want me to fill you up to? Mark you up? Stake my claim, make sure everybody knows you’re mine now?”

You whined in reply as he started thrusting, hips bruising your own every time he bottomed out with an obscene wet noise from your arousal.

“Oh, you like that?” he was a smug as a cat, “Want me to make you a mummy? Fill you up and keep you home, all for me to have whenever I like.”

He felt you clench around him and grinned, “Make a wife out of you, get you down the aisle and all.”

You mewled underneath him before grinning, “Maybe buy me a drink first.”

He slapped your ass and grinned at you, “I guess I could do that.”

His thrusts resumed their roughness as he muttered praise under his breath, just how you had imagined in your dreams, feel so good around me sweetness, so tight. My perfect girl likes it when I fuck her rough huh? So fucked out you can’t even speak, just a dumb baby for me to use now.

You felt you second orgasm of the night rise in you and pulled Fenrys in for a rough, dirty kiss, your tongue invading his mouth as you came undone – gripping him impossibly tight. But instead of stopping he simply kept fucking you through your orgasm, pushing you into another until he was satisfied.

His thrusts didn’t cease regardless of the blood you were probably drawing on the back of his shoulder, regardless of your cries of overstimulation into his hungry mouth. He reached one hand to grasp your throat, willing your mouth open with his thumb and spitting into it, watching you with a smile.

“Now that’s my dirty girl, swallow for me.” You obeyed his order, with a breathless smile. He watched, groaning as he approached his own release, thrusts becoming sloppy as he pushed you to your fourth orgasm of the night with his own.

“You going to let me fill you up baby?” he asked, and you nodded quickly, “Beg.” He commanded.

“Please, please Fenrys want it so bad. Need to feel you, need to, need it more than oxygen,” your voice was unrecognisable to your own ears. “Need you to make me cum and fill me up, make me all yours.”

That pushed him over the edge as he bottomed out within you with a groan, his thumb going to circle your clit – instantly sending you following over the edge as you muffled your moans in each other’s necks.

You stayed in that position what could’ve been minutes or days until Fenrys pulled out as you whined feeling empty minus his seed trickling out of your abused hole. He disappeared before you for a couple seconds, returning with a clean shirt and warm wash cloth which he used to clean you up. He then pulled on his own underwear and the shirt over your head before pulling you safe and warm into his strong arms.

“Wait, what if mum or dad come in?” you asked, panic rising despite the sheer comfort you felt in his arms.

“Oh they already know,” he said making you whip your head up, “What did you think Aedion just wanted a friendly chat?”

“I just thought he’d tell you to back off,” you muttered, and he reached to stroke your hair back off your face.

“Well he did, so I went straight to your mother, told her I loved you and asked for her blessing,” you laughed, amazed at his planning.

“My mother before my father?” you asked, “not very traditional.”

“Have you met your mum, if I had gone to anyone before her she’d kill me,” you laughed loudly again, burying yourself in his chest.

“I guess you’re right there.” You conceded, sleep slurring your words as you felt Fenrys press a kiss to your head.

“Sleep, we’ll discuss it more in the morning.” He muttered and you smiled, content in his arms.

[moonnu-u]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JIANG CHENG !!

He deserves all happiness in the entire world. <3 <3 <3

[sukirichi]

the morning after – gojo satoru ver!

warnings: slight dirty talk and suggestive content, like the yuuji one, nothing too explicit! Oh and a teasing, cheeky gojo :>

masterlist ! (photo not mine)

It doesn’t hit you until you’re whacked by an arm in the face. Literally.

You whine and push the foreign weight away that smushed your nose at the impact, less than pleased because you’re having the best of your life, but someone had to ruin it. Nevertheless, you refuse to open your eyes and settle into the warmth that encases you in that moment. It reminds you of your precious unicorn plushie you left back at your apartment; cuddly, precious, keeps the nightmares away, but the best part about this human teddy bear is that he’s all firm muscles and body heat instead of fur cotton.

Wait, what? Human?

It’s when you hear the man stirring above you with a husky groan that you freeze in your spot, eyes snapping wide open your vision blurs for a split second. The first thing you see is smooth skin and firm pecs, followed by a slender, strong neck and a sharp jawline – oh god.

So last night wasn’t a dream.

Clenching your teeth and even biting the inside of your cheeks to stop squealing – more out of embarrassment and shame than happiness, really – you slowly reach up between your squished bodies to pinch your cheeks, bringing blood and feeling back into them. No wonder you’ve slept so well last night, and as someone who prefers pulling an all-nighter until you pass out in the middle of an anime series, it’s quite rare to find a good eight hour sleep.

It’s not like you had much...activities performed that would take up too much energy. Until Gojo Satoru came, the teacher from the Tokyo school, and also the notoriously infamous “strongest jujutsu sorcerer.”

You’ve had a crush on him the moment you’ve started working as a teacher in the Kyoto school. Utahime, who was closer to him, was incredibly appalled when you told her one day about your raging crush on the white-haired man who looked absolutely breathtaking with his blindfold, but without them?

Just the thought of having seen them last night, when he was between your legs, no less, has you inwardly groaning and cringing so hard you feel so shameful that you can’t even look him in the eye. Satoru is fast asleep above you, one of his strong arms lazily draped over the curve of your waist and his fingers brushing against your bum. When you shift a little to give you both space, his fingers begin to hover dangerously close to a sensitive area and you let out a tiny squeak, muffling it with the back of your fist before he awakens.

This man had the Six Eyes – the last thing you wanted was for him to sense and notice the little things and wake up. No, you had to leave before he even gets the chance to move.

The chances of not waking him up was pretty slim, but you’ve always been proud of your sneaky movements that you try anyway. Fortunately, Satoru doesn’t seem to be a hardcore cuddler because he doesn’t pull you back when you finally slip past the sheets.

You freeze for a moment at the edge of the bed, still in disbelief that you actually slept with him. No, no, that’s wrong, you’d have slept with him anytime if he allowed it but – he actually slept with you. It’s not that you’re looking down on yourself because you’re also a special grade sorcerer and could stand your own ground confidently, but your powers when it comes to exorcising and your social skills are two different things that don’t even come close together.

You’re not worried that a special grade curse would kill you and take away your privilege of finishing that new manga you bought in your day off because you know you could handle it easily, but as a person, there’s a stark difference between you and Satoru.

True, he wasn’t exactly liked by everyone because he refused to be limited by rules and regulations, always claiming that one should not be hindered by the narrow-mindedness of the others, but it was something you really admired about him because you’re not like that. You’re old school, sticking by the book, much like his co-worker Nanami Kento who equally hates overtime, and while Gojo Satoru was loud and confident, you’re more of the person who stays by a corner during a party.

Which is exactly what happened last night at Utahime’s birthday party – aka the old wrinkly principal isn’t here so let’s get wasted type of party.

You’re not surprised that Gojo Satoru walked in, but when he did, you had to clutch your spirit water and drink it in haste because he’s got you feeling thirstier than you did last night – and you drink your water plenty. But how could you remain sane when he looked so gorgeous in just his uniform and his laughter has butterflies erupting in your stomach?

Truth was, you’re satisfied watching him from afar. It’s not like you ever plan on asking him out or being his friend because you’re sure Satoru has better things to do and prettier people to talk to, so when he sits next to you in the desolate leather couch, legs crossed over one another and his arm right behind you (although not touching, he respects your space) you nearly pass out.

One thing leads to another, and you find yourself writhing under his arms, shamelessly crying his name over and over again until the dead hours of the night that has his ego inflating.

You don’t remember how or exactly why it happened, but definitely, alcohol had to be involved. There’s no way Gojo Satoru would actually notice you, much less sleep with you, when he’s completely sober, which is why you scramble around the room with the blanket covering your bare body as you look for your discarded clothes.

If he wakes up and sees you, he’ll probably regret everything that happened last night, if he remembers any of it, anyway.

But you’re most definitely mostly sober through the whole thing, so you remember how good he was in making you feel like a goddess. The way he sucked on your neck, licking a stripe at your burning skin while his large hands groped your breasts possessively, all the while rutting in that perfect spot that has your eyes rolling at the back of your head with your nails running down his back – you shiver just thinking about it.

Gojo Satoru really has that effect on people.

You hide your flustered state and quickly pull on your undergarments, about to slip the sweater over your head, only to die on the inside because you realize you’re wearing those full cotton panties instead of sexy lingerie. With a groan, you fight back the urge to cry. But then again, who could blame yourself for not dressing sexily? It’s not like you had any idea that this would happen.

You’re halfway through your jeans when Gojo’s husky morning voice breaks through the silence. “Leaving already?” you hear him smile, although your back is turned to him, face completely morphed into terror. “Such a shame. I was actually thinking shower sex sounds nice – if you’re into that, of course.”

“Satoru,” you greet lamely with a bow, avoiding the way his stunning eyes raked over your form with an unreadable dark expression. “Uh, you’re awake, and...good morning, I guess.”

Gojo smirks at your flushed cheeks, and it takes everything not to stare at the way his biceps strain from the way he supports his head, hair sticking in every direction and looking absolutely sexy in the morning light. “Good morning to you too, Y/N,” your breath stifles, because he knows your name? “Although it would be an ever better morning if you weren’t such in a rush to leave,” he chuckles, “It makes me feel like maybe you regret what happened last night.”

Your head snaps up at his words as you shakily wiggle your arms, “No, that’s not true, I loved every second of it! It was...it was the best night of my life,” your cheeks tinge a shade darker when Gojo beams at your words, chest almost puffing out proudly. Shyly, you turn away from him and fiddle with the hem of your sweatshirt. “I just...I didn’t think you’d still want me here around, because you were drunk last night and all and I thought maybe you’ll regret it, which I don’t want to happen so yeah, I just thought I’d leave before I get to...” you clear your throat awkwardly, “...be rejected like that.”

“Y/N,” his voice falls an octave lower, the thoughts in your head growing so loud you don’t even hear that he’s already left the bed, and now he’s cradling your chin until you’re forced to witness the galaxies burning in his eyes. “You thought I was drunk last night and did it because I was just horny? That I would regret it and forget all about it?”

His proximity has your breath stuttering, your eyelashes slapping your cheeks as you blink rapidly. “Well, uhm, I’m not really your type, so I think it was safe to assume that.”

Gojo hums at your words, his calloused thumb running over your lips. A small smile flits across his face when he remembers how much of a good girl you were for him last night, obediently opening those lips up and letting him bask in the warmth of your wet cavern before swallowing all he has to give. Funnily enough, Gojo isn’t the best with his words, so he just tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before sighing.

“I wasn’t drunk,” he finally admits. The confession has you slipping from his grasp, but Gojo snakes his arm around the small of your back to pull you to him, the warmth of his bare skin seeping into your clothes. However, it’s nothing compared to the lust and adoration burning in his eyes – one you can’t properly fathom in this clouded state. “Tipsy, sure, but I assure you I was aware and sober for every little part,” his lips hover at your ear, one of his hands coming at the back of your neck to tilt your head to the side, granting him access to the hickeys he’d purposely left.

Just the sight of his markings on your perfect body has a tent growing in his pants. You feel his erection rub at the pad of your jeans, eliciting a small whine from you, and this makes Gojo resist the urge to bend you over right then and there. But he doesn’t do that, because he knows your body is too tired from his ministrations, and he’s nice enough to give you a break – even if that’s not exactly what your burning core wants at that moment.

“Like the way you clenched around my cock when I hit that sensitive spot of yours,” he laughs when you shiver at the way his breath tickles you, “Or how pretty you look when you cream around my cock, begging me to go harder because you can take it, and baby, I promise you, I loved it just as much as you did.”

Finally, Gojo pulls back, and he’s extremely satisfied when he sees how small and innocent you look just like that, as if he hadn’t just folded you in half to watch the way your pretty pussy welcome him and take him better than anyone else just hours ago.

“But,” he continues, “I think I enjoyed it a lot more, considering I’ve wanted to do that for such a long time now,” at his words, you furrow your brows, and that’s when he realizes his mistake. Gojo reverts back to his usual lighthearted self and fans his hand out almost comically with his hands on his hips. “I mean, not just the sex, though it is amazing, but having you close is what I meant. Like holding your hand or getting to kiss you,” he sighs dreamily as if you’re not in the same room as him.

“Uh,” you awkwardly begin, unsure of what to say. “Are you saying you like me?”

“Yeah,” he smirks, which shouldn’t have been such a sexy look on him, but because he’s Gojo, it was. “But Utahime said she’d cut my balls off if I even get near you. Thank goodness she was too drunk last night to ever see it, but I’m glad I talked to you. I’m just ashamed I’m only saying this after the sex but...would you like to go out with me?”

Thanks to his Six Eyes ability, Gojo is blessed with the privilege of seeing you malfunction before him as you try to find your words.

[tsukishumai]

pairing: tsukishima kei x f!reader wc; 2.2k tags; fluff, coworkers to lovers? a/n: quick fic for my bby lol happy birthday tsukki <33

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tsukishima Kei was tired.

Stepping out into the cold, autumn evening, he rubs his hands together in an attempt to warm his frozen fingers. He thinks the blister he feels forming on his pinky toe was a sign for him to get a new pair of shoes, and this fact was solidified by the ache in his arch with each step he took towards the bus stop.

The day had been longer than most. Maybe if he hadn’t let his brother drag him to the gym and play pick-up games last night, then perhaps his body wouldn’t have felt so sore this morning. And if his body hadn’t been so sore in the morning, then he might have had the energy to grab coffee before work, possibly even pack himself a quick lunch. His mood would have presumably been at least mildly better throughout the day, and he had no doubt that he would have been able to continue on with his work swiftly, and efficiently.

But Tsukishima had learned at a young age that things don’t always work out for him the way he wants them to.

He wasn’t trying to be rude when you came to ask him about his tour schedule, but did you have to burst through his office door so loudly? He felt bad for 2.3 seconds as he watched your smile slowly melt into a frown, but he was way too irked when you rolled your eyes at him when he asked you to knock.

And it wasn’t his fault that he bought the last tuna onigiri from the food stand outside the museum. He forgot to pack lunch, and he was hungry, too. He probably shouldn’t have unwrapped and eaten it right in front of your face, but he doesn’t appreciate getting dirty looks for ordering a meal.

You’re newer to the museum, he knows that. As someone with seniority, he should be a little more helpful, and he could probably work on improving his sociability just a tiny bit, but his patience could only run so thin. It’s not like you ever listened to him anyway.

Should he have told you to figure out the volunteer’s schedule on your own because ‘even a monkey with a banana could do it on their own’? Okay, maybe not.

But did you have to snap at him to ‘keep the stick up his own ass and leave yours alone’ when he warned your tours took too long, and you’d end up leaving late? No, and that’s the last time Tsukishima will ever try to offer advice to a newbie.

Tsukishima sighed. He was tired.

His stomach growled out loud as he pressed the button for the crosswalk, slowly moving to rub his palm along his belly. He’s wondering if he has anything he could make at his apartment. When an image of a rotting bunch of scallions and moldy tomatoes dying in his refrigerator drawer comes to mind, he thinks he’s probably better off grabbing a bento from the convenience store down the street.

The light switches from red to green, and just before Tsukishima steps down from the curb, he feels an arm delicately wrap around his own.

“Hey, babe,” a familiar, annoyingly cheery voice greets him, and he has to stop himself from grimacing when he looks down and his eyes meet yours.

Tsukishima doesn’t think you’ve ever touched him once — not in the last six months since you’ve become his coworker. He had bowed when you were first introduced, and Tsukishima had never been one to hand out hugs or high fives.

He attributes the deep blush that spread across his cheeks to this fact, and not to the feeling of your chest pressed tightly against his side.

“What the —“

“You almost left without me,” you pouted, and Tsukishima nearly tripped over his feet when you swing your body around to switch positions with him, “You’re so silly!”

“Uh,” Tsukishima stammers at the situation at hand, but he stills when he feels your grip tighten painfully around his bicep, and your eyes narrow and widen.

From behind your shoulder, Tsukishima sees it.

The streets were not too crowded, but they weren’t empty. From both sides of the sidewalk, Tsukishima watched as people silently walked past each other in a valiant effort to get home.

This was why Tsukishima almost didn’t notice the man standing beside the lamp post just fifteen feet back, his face half covered by a mask, hoodie pulled all the way over his head with the bill of a black hat just peeking out.

Tsukishima’s blood ran cold when he realized the man is watching you clutch onto him, and Tsukishima does not react when he can feel your nails dig through the material of his sweater.

A look of panic briefly flashes in your eyes when Tsukishima places his hand on top of yours and gently pulls your grip off his sleeve.

“You’re going to ruin my sweater,” Tsukishima mumbles as he drags his hand down the length of your arm and intertwines his fingers with yours. Your mouth drops open in shock when he gives your hand a tight squeeze, “Sweetie.”

He doesn’t wait for you to regain your composure before he drags you across the street. As soon as Tsukishima’s foot lands on the other curb, he glances back at the direction from which you came.

The capped-man was now slowly walking forward, reaching the crosswalk just as the light turned red once more.

Tsukishima quickened his pace down the silent sidewalk, globes of orange light shining down each lamp post you walked past. You said nothing of the sweat that accumulated between both of your nervous palms, still gripping onto Tsukishima’s hand tightly. The size of it nearly engulfs your own, and your hold on him was the only thing allowing you to somewhat keep up with the pace of his strides.

“My bus stop is right over there,” you mumble quietly, and Tsukishima silently thanked the gods you were going the same direction.

He could feel your fingers trembling against his, and Tsukishima gives you a light squeeze.

He wasn’t sure what to do. He was never one to comfort another, and he had never really been in a situation before. But something akin to an ember of rage had been stoked within him as soon as he saw some strange man’s greedy little eyes stuck on you.

The bus arrived just five minutes later, and Tsukishima stayed close behind as you climbed inside. You were lucky enough to find two vacant seats, and you slid into the one beside the window. Tsukishima occupies the aisle seat, stretching his legs out slightly as he watches the stream of people entering and leaving the bus.

It was after an old woman carrying groceries clambered into a seat behind the bus driver did Tsukishima notice him.

He sat by the very front while the two of you occupied seats in the back. A pair of sunglasses now completely masked all of his features, but Tsukishima didn’t need to see his eyes to know who they were trained on.

When you look up at him, dazed and slightly terrified, he gives you a tight-lipped smile. He lets go of your hand, and his heart breaks a little when he sees your eyes dart around in panic. Wordlessly, he reaches over and wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close into his side.

You had always been so hot-headed — loud, and passionate, and animated about everything that you do. Tsukishima had known you were trouble from the moment you rearranged one of his displays without even thinking about consulting him, and you had honestly been a headache ever since. You challenged him at every turn, corrected him when he didn’t ask for it, and it was obvious to Tsukishima that you were much too big for him to handle.

But at the moment, feeling so small as you trembled tucked beneath his arm, Tsukishima could only think that he never wanted to see you like this ever again.

His heart crumbles a little when you rest your head against his shoulder.

“So,” Tsukishima’s voice vibrated against your cheek, “The tours ran a bit too long today, didn’t they?”

Tsukishima bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing when you turn your head to face him, an incredulous expression decorating your features.

“Is now really an appropriate time for an ‘I told you so’,” You hissed, “You never miss a chance, do you?”

Now, a smug smile has fully settled onto his lips, “Never have, never will.”

You land a punch on Tsukishima’s wide open ribs, and he flinches to the side with a slight ‘oof’. But he tightens his arm around you even more. Swirls of pine and citrus began to calm your nerves, and it took you too long to realize you were inhaling Tsukishima’s cologne. He smelled as clean as he looked, and even after a full day of work, not a single hair of his was out of place.

Your stop was four after Tsukishima’s. He carried your bag from your shoulders as you climbed out of your seat. He stepped aside to allow you to lead the way, but Tsukishima’s chest was nearly pressed against your back with how closely he followed behind.

You hadn’t expected Tsukishima to follow you this far, and as you walked a few steps towards the direction of your apartment, you turned to thank Tsukishima for his aid.

You whip your head side to side when you find that he was no longer walking behind you, curious to see that he was waiting two feet away from the bus’ exit.

You briefly wondered what he was waiting for, and your heart shattered down to the ground when you see the familiar stranger that had been following you since you exited your office building slowly step out.

You didn’t even notice him climb onto the bus. Had he really been there the entire time? Oh god, was he planning to follow you all the way home? Your head begins to spin at the dangerous possibilities that could have unfolded.

“Are you lost?” Tsukishima’s voice was cold and stern, and you could hear it clearly from where you stood.

You watched as the hooded man jolted, clearly shocked at the question directed to him. His face still remained perfectly hidden, but you could tell from his body language that he was not expecting to be addressed.

Tsukishima towered over him, but his six foot five stature had towered nearly everyone. The eyes behind his dark-rimmed glasses were narrowed in a glare, and Tsukishima stayed planted in front of your intruder.

“Oh — uh, i— no, just —“

“It’s that way,” Tsukishima didn’t wait for the man to finish his stammering, pointing a long finger towards the opposite direction of your home.

The man didn’t need to be told twice. He twirled on his heels, looking over his shoulders only to see Tsukishima watch as he walked away into the night.

You were frozen, mouth hung so wide open, you were pretty sure bugs had flown in. Tsukishima makes his way back to you, stopping to wrap his arms around your shoulders once again. He tilts his head down at you, looking softly as he asks, “Which way?”

You were at a loss for words, choosing instead to simply lead the way. Tsukishima remained draped over you, like a blanket of protection warding off all evil.

The silence that engulfed the two of you felt comfortable, and on any other day, you might have been appalled to be in such close contact with Tsukishima Kei.

But today, you felt safe. You felt comfort, and relief, and you relax against him, perfectly protected under Tsukishima’s wing.

You sneak a glance up at him, biting your lip as you turn the words you want to say over in your head.

“Tsukishima,” you start, chewing on your lips, “Thank yo—“

“My last tour is usually at 4:45,” he interrupts you, squeezing his hand on your shoulder, “I try to catch up on some paperwork before leaving but…”

He trails off, and you stay silent in fear of ruining what he’s trying to tell you.

He shifts his head away from you as he says, “If you wait for me, I could walk you home.”

You stop in your tracks, looking up at him with a smile. Tsukishima pointedly avoids your gaze, but it’s difficult when he’s keeping you pinned beside him.

“I’d like that,” you mumble before pointing back at the apartment building he hadn’t noticed, “This is my place.”

Tsukishima finally deigns to let you go, stepping back and brushing his fingers through his hair.

“Shorten your tours,” he grumbles out, turning his body back the direction from where he came, “And don’t forget to itemize each piece that comes in for the Date Masumane exhibit tomorrow.”

You stare at him dumbfounded before bursting out in giggles, bringing your hand up in a mock salute.

“I owe you one,” you call out, watching him retreat back from where he came.

He waves you off.

“I like black coffee,” he calls back over his shoulder, “Do what you will with that information.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

rbs v appreciated <33

[starsofmilos]

I’ll always look out for you (Adrian Chase x witch reader)

Request: anyways, on to the idea:one day, while everyone is out on a mission, witch!reader decides to stay home and test the waters with her powers. in doing so, she ends up in an alternative timeline, one in which she finds a MUCH older adrian alone and in a slightly gloomy version of evergreen. she's curious and ends up learning about this version adrian, including the reveal that a version of herself died here. she wishes this version of adrian a farewell and hopes to maybe see him again one day. she returns and finds her own adrian is still in tact, just how she likes it. pls? thank u! also with the old man adrian/witch!reader request I just sent in, I can kinda imagine the meeting she has with him taking place in a bar lol. idk, I just see it happening!

So when I read this I got so excited to do this and this might be my favorite one I’ve done so far for the witch reader series! Anyways I hope I’ve done you proud and I hope you like what I’ve made

Witch reader masterlist

Warnings: cursing, angst, fluff, mentions of death, mentions of sex, mentions of violence

“I’m sad!” You groaned out leaning on Adrian. He laughed a bit smiling seeing you glare at him.

“If the roles were reversed you’d be way more dramatic about this!”

“I’m only leaving for two days.”

“I know...I just hoped you’d be here for my birthday.” Adrian nodded kissing your head lightly. 

“I know I wanted to be too. Right now I really hate butterflies.” You laughed shaking your head.

“I know if it was up to you you’d stay. The team needs you.” Adrian nodded sadly.

“I’ll be back in two days time and when I get back we’re celebrating. Remember to stay at my place at night not here by yourself.” You nodded kissing him. 

“I will. Oh jeez you gotta go!” Adrian sighed seeing the time. 

“I do. I’ll be back later I promise.” 

“You better be back. Remember-”

“Break the crystal if I need you.” You nodded happy he knew by now. 

“I love you..” Adrian grinned saying it back before taking off. 

You sighed closing your shop a bit early for the day going upstairs to pack a small overnight bag for Adrian’s place.This would give you sometime to practice your magic and meditate.

Adrian didn’t like you staying alone at your home since it was above your shop. The town wasn’t the nicest to you. They hated you for what your grandmother had done long ago. You couldn’t blame them for fearing her, but you had done nothing to them.

Every once in a while, someone would try to break in to destroy your shop or to try to kill you. Obviously they could never do it, but Adrian still felt better with you staying at his place when he wasn’t here.

You decided you’d go to his place later tonight for now you wanted to do something you’d been wanting to try for a while. 

Originally you wanted Adrian here in case it went wrong, but you knew the likely chances of it going wrong were low and you wanted to be able to do this without him.

You grabbed your candles lighting them gently before sitting in a cross legged position. Setting your phone on silent, you levitated above the ground before shutting your eyes.

Your powers allowed you to do more than the average magic user. You just didn’t ever really explore them. You wanted too, but it was always a line you couldn’t bring yourself to cross.

Now something felt different though, maybe because you were alone and a lot more at peace with yourself than before.

You allowed your body to fully relax letting the black light surround your hands. Things felt different time, something felt more intense.

You weren’t meditating like usual. You gasped a bit feeling arms grab at you. Your eyes wouldn’t open feeling overwhelmed the room began to shake. Maybe this was a bad idea.

The room changed.

You gasped falling down harshly. Groaning you looked around in confusion. You were still in your apartment, but it looked different. It was more dull and almost lifeless. 

Your plants were gone and the only thing that was in the room was a bed. Standing up hesitantly, you decided to go walking away. You were not home that was for sure.

Well you technically were, but it wasn’t your home still. Kinda confusing. Heading down your stairs you noticed your bookshop was still here, but there was covers everywhere. Dust littered the walls and floors. 

It hasn’t been open in quite some time. Hopefully the town wasn’t as dull as this. Sighing, you headed to town jumping a bit as the door creaked loudly opened. It hadn’t been open in some time. 

The town...looked worser than your shop. 

It was grey. Almost everything seemed gray. The flowers you’d like to see along your walk home were dead. Hardly nobody was outside. The people seemed more violent and sadder than before. Your shop had not been touched surprisingly. 

Where was Adrian?

Was he not here in this dreary town? After walking for sometime, you stopped outside the bar in town. Adrian would come here often with his friends and you. You’d had some of your best memories here. 

Which was weird considering most of the time you went there, your boyfriend would end up almost fighting a stupid person for calling you names.

Walking in, a small slow song played. You looked around before clearing your throat feeling quite thirsty. Sitting at the bar, you looked around as you waited for the bartender to approach.

“What can I get you?”

“Just a water please.” He nodded handing you a cup of water. You nodded in thanks before realizing you didn’t have any money. 

Nervously laughing you dug through your pockets for something. Anything to pay the man.

He sighed reaching to take the water back, but was stopped by a five dollar bill hitting the table in front of you. The bartender nodded in thanks accepting it. 

“Thank you.” You smiled a bit at the older man who sat next to you. He nodded quietly drinking his beer.

You couldn’t see his face and he didn’t spare you a glance either. Something told you though he was safe to be near. He seemed familiar in a way. Gulping down the water, you sighed happily. 

The man glanced at you from the corner of his eye choking a bit as he now looked at you. He looked in shock shaking a bit. You yelped a bit as your arm was snatched. 

The man grasped your chin turning you towards him. He inspected you closely not believing his eyes. “Y/N?...” He whispered out in shock.

Your eyes widened as you fully stared at the older man. You knew those green eyes from anywhere, “Adrian?...”

He nodded running his thumb over your cheek. You grew confused seeing him grow a bit teary eyed. “What are you?- How are you?”

You smiled a bit. This wasn’t your Adrian, but it was still Adrian. This one though, he’s been through a lot of pain. You could see it in his eyes.

Adrian grinned a bit before frowning gripping your wrist tightly. “You’re not my Y/N huh?” 

You nodded sadly. He sighed letting you go, “How did you get here? Let me guess your magic?”

“Yeah it was my magic. Adrian..you look like well shit? You’re older too..What happened here?” He laughed a bit bitterly. 

“A lot, but nothing for you to worry about it’s not like you’re gonna stay. Leave.” He got up taking off. You scoffed a bit before following him out.

“Hey!” You called out to him chasing after him. “Look I don’t really know how I got here and I just wanna talk-” He turned towards you with a small glare shutting you up.

“Y/N. You need to get out of here now.” 

“No. I can’t just go. Not now anyways that I see you like this-”

“I’m not your Adrian-”

“I don’t care! You may not be my Adrian, but you’re still Adrian. You’re the funny cool guy that I avoided in high school because of my huge crush on him. Now tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help. It could probably help send me back too!” 

He stood silent for a bit, “I can’t go through this pain again.” 

“What?”

“You’re gonna leave me again and I’m already alone. I don’t want you to be a reminder of that.”

“Wait you’re alone?” He nodded.

“My Y/N...My Y/N is dead. I can’t go through staring at you because I just don’t want too feel this pain again...”

“Adrian...tell me what happened?”

Staying quiet your eyes widened at the complete look of hatred he gave you. It made you flinch. You never wanted Adrian to view you that way.

“You’re just gonna cause me unnecessary problems and I don’t want that. It would just be a bother so leave.”

He sighed walking off. You looked down a bit sadly. It was stupid to think he’d wanna talk to you. This Adrian hated you.

You wandered the streets for a bit upset by how that conversation went. He seemed bitter and hurt. Adrian was broken here. The only upside was that the townspeople didn’t know you or recognize you. 

The world seemed so dark here. You didn’t like it. It was cold and scary. No comfort at all. Hearing footsteps behind you, you noticed a two men begin to start trailing behind you.

Fear ran through your veins, you could take both of them but you also didn’t wanna reveal yourself with magic. This town was way more different than yours. More cold and violent.

Speaking of cold, you shivered a bit trying to warm yourself speeding up your walk. No phone or money. Adrian didn’t even want you around. You had no where to go.

You yelped a bit as one of them grabbed your arm. “Give us everything you have now!” They dragged you to the alleyway shoving you against the wall.

“I don’t have anything.” They angrily shoved you on the floor. 

“You have to have something! Give us something!” You clenched your fist trying not to lose control. You were angry and upset. You just wanted to go home now.

It felt stupid to you when tears brimmed your eyes. “Hey! Stop fucking crying and give us your shit!” 

“I said I don’t have anything. I really don’t.” Your voice cracked. You felt weak suddenly and vulnerable. You hadn’t felt these emotions in so long. The idea that Adrian hated you or would at some point grow to hate you got to you more than you’d like to admit.

“Fucking bitch!” One of them pulled out a gun pointing it towards you. You shut your eyes ready to use your magic only the gun was never shot. Instead you heard a bunch of groans. 

You opened your eyes hearing heavy panting as the two men who had tried to rob you laid on the floor dead.

“Are you okay?” Hands grabbed your cheeks checking you over. You smiled a bit sniffling seeing Adrian standing before you in his vigilante suit.

“You came back...” He sighed nodding. 

“I did. I’m sorry I left..I was..I was in pain and still am to be honest. I just..I came back because if something happened to you and I wasn’t here. I’m sorry I was mean and left you on the side of the road. I’m just a cranky old man..” He tried to make you laugh.

You nodded letting him help you up. He sighed waving his hand, “Follow me.” 

Smiling you walked alongside him as he took you to his home. This Adrian was grumpy, but he was still Adrian. He had his mannerisms. You smiled a bit resisting the urge to grab his hand.

This wasn’t your Adrian besides this Adrian doesn’t seem so fond of you.

Adrian opened the door letting you in. He removed his mask going to his change. “Have a seat.” You went quiet staring at his face and chest as he removed his armor. Yeah he was old, but Adrian was still so fucking hot especially now.

You had a lot to look forward too when Adrian grew older. He was still so beautiful to you even with the small crinkles by his eyes and the small gray hairs on his head.

Adrian, well older Adrian, sighed telling you to take a seat. You sat as he got a kettle boiling. “Do you still like tea?”

“Yeah leaf water sounds a lot more appetizing than bean water.” You both said at the same time.

You smiled nervously as he chuckled. “I wanted to see if you both had the same taste.”

“We had to have..We both chose you right?” Adrian nodded going a bit quiet.

“Right.” You smiled sadly at him before waving your hand cleaning all the dust off his house.

“Actually hold off on that tea.” He looked at you in confusion as you stood up grabbing a broom.

“What are you doing?-”

“When was the last time you cleaned anything?” You grimaced seeing old pizza on the counter.

“I don’t really have the time being Vigilante and all.”

“Ahh so even as an old man you’re still Vigilante.” He glared a bit.

“Fifty-six is not that old..” He grumbled out. You laughed using your magic to help you clean everything.

Adrian stared in amazement as you cleaned everything with ease. It was amazing to him. He hadn’t seen your magic in so long. It comforted him more than he thought it would.

You made it seem more colorful in his house in the twenty minutes you’d been there than what he could do in years. “See doesn’t this feel better-”

You stopped yourself seeing tears run down his face. “I’m sorry did I overstep a boundary? I can undo it if you want-”

“No. No..you didn’t overstep. You didn’t overstep at all..” He sniffled a bit wiping his face.

You sat on the couch letting him pour you tea. “Ah thanks..” You hummed in content drinking it happily. “Taste so good!”

Adrian grinned a bit looking down, “I’ve had years of practice.”

“I could tell old timer.”

“Can we stop with the old people jokes?”

“Nah boomer.”

“I’m not a boomer!”

“Uh-huh sure boomer.”

Adrian glared before chuckling a bit. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” You smiled seeing him nod a bit happily. “I hate to kill this good vibe we have going on here, but would you mind telling me why I’m not with you? What happened Adrian?”

He grew silent looking down, “It was my fault.”

“What?”

“You died here because of me. I..It was a really hard mission and I did the thing I promised to do in case I was ever in danger twenty years ago.”

“You broke the crystal.” He nodded.

“Chris was gonna die and Adebayp was barely hanging on. John was lost and Harcourt..We lost her sooner than what we hoped too. So I broke the crystal and I regret it. I regret it with every fiber of my being, because it got you killed.”

You sighed, “I’m pretty sure I knew going in there was a chance of me dying-”

“I hate myself for doing it Y/N! I hate you for giving me that stupid crystal too! You came and you..You saved all of us and even brought back Harcourt but it came with a price.”

“My life.”

He nodded, “You casted a spell to help us against the biggest thing we had ever seen, but the spell came with a price. It killed you. I had to hold you in my arms as you bled out. I couldn’t speak for days from how much screaming I did..”

You frowned saddened that he had suffered so much. Adrian jumped in surprise as you scooted to him tightly wrapping him in a hug.

“I loved you. Well she loved you. She would do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant you were safe. I would do it too. Dying for you was probably the best thing I had ever done in my life besides getting with you.”

He gripped you tightly taking you in. Your scent, the feeling of your arms around him. Adrian had forgotten what it felt like to have someone hold him. 

“I can stay the night and tomorrow I’ll go home.”

“No you don’t have to do that-”

“I do. You need me.” 

“I’m not your Adrian though and trust me I’ve spent a lot of time alone by this point and you don’t wanna hang out with an old man.”

“So you admit you’re old.” 

He glared at you before smiling, “I hate that I can’t stay mad at you.” You grinned.

“What can I say I’m irresistible to all the ladies and men it’s my witch charm.” You grinned nuzzling into his chest.

Adrian nodded, “You are. You really really are..” 

You both laid on the couch next to one another eventually falling asleep. Adrian awoke first smiling a bit as you slept nuzzled into his chest. He had missed this more than he thought he did.

Sliding out from your hold he slipped a blanket on you seeing you shiver as your hands instinctually reached out for him for warmth.

He kissed your forehead softly thanking whatever had sent you here just so he could see you even if it wasn’t permanent. Looking at the date he smiled, pancake birthday tradition. He used to do it every year for you.

You awoke warm and to the smell of pancakes.“Hey..” Adrian smiled a bit serving you. “Here you go younger version of my wife.”

You laughed a bit before stopping, “Wait wife?” He nodded a bit confused.

“Are you not married?” You shook your head, “No we’re not..”

“Oh..well here you were my wife.” You smiled kinda liking the sound of Adrian calling you his wife.

“I thought marriage wasn’t for you.” You teased as he chuckled.

“That’s what I thought up until I met you. Trust me your Adrian is probably the same.” You grew a bit flustered pouring syrup on your pancakes.

“If anything he’s probably worried right now..” He mumbled out grabbing the syrup from you. You nodded in agreement.

“I’ll explain when I get back.”

“I guarantee you he is not going to be happy you spent your birthday here with me.”

“Actually he’s on a mission right now we agreed to celebrate when he got back.”

“Wait you were going to spend your birthday alone?” Older Adrian did not seem happy at that news. 

“Yeah I was, but it’s fine-”

“That is not fine. If I could go back in time and change things I would. I’d never have prioritized work over you. I would’ve done anything you wanted as long as I got to stand by you..He’s an idiot.”

You looked down bashfully. Adrian always had a way with words. You’re glad to see that didn’t change even now that he was older. 

“Thank you for thinking so, but I forced him to go. He didn’t want too. I love him so much..I don’t think I deserved to be fussed over-”

“You deserve the world.”

Those four words shut you up as he pushed some fruit to you. “Eat.” 

“Thank you..” You mumbled out eating your food.

Adrian drank his coffee staring at you from the corner of his eye you were beautiful, but you weren’t his. He knew this wasn’t forever and he knew that the other version of him needed you just as much as he did. 

He’d never want any versions of himself going through the pain he did. “You should start heading back soon.” 

You looked at him in confusion, “I wanted to stay a bit longer-”

“I don’t want you too..Look after you died I couldn’t help but feel upset. I wanted to hate you for leaving me. I begged and screamed for you to come back. You didn’t..I was alone all over again..I was so scared being alone all over again..” He shook a bit setting his coffee cup down.

“I don’t want the other me to go through that Y/N. I have been beaten and nearly killed several times in my life and the day I lost you was the most painful thing I’ve ever gone through. No one deserves that pain..” 

You looked in shock as he sniffled. “Adrian will you dance with me?” 

“What?” 

“You had said a long time ago you wanted to dance, but-”

“You don’t like to dance. You have two left feet.” He chuckled looking down. 

“Before I go back to my world, we should share a dance. Please?” Adrian grew a bit teary eyed nodding.

You stood up taking his hand. “I think I’m in love with you already..” He chuckled nervously.

“I think no matter what place I’m in I’ll always fall in love with you..” You clutched him tightly at his words. 

“I love you no matter what Adrian..”

He nodded beginning to cry into your neck. You grew teary eyed letting him cry on you. “I should’ve done more-”

“There was nothing else you could’ve done. I promise you not a day will go by that this me would ever regret giving my life for you and our friends.”

Adrian sobbed into your shoulder letting everything he had been holding for years out onto you. “I don’t want you to leave..I don’t wanna be alone anymore. I’m so scared being alone. I miss you so fucking much” 

You nodded in understanding, “I can’t stay here though..”

“I know you’re not my Y/N. Does other me appreciate you?” You nodded cradling his cheeks.

“They do..Adrian makes me feel so special..You won’t be alone for long I promise..If this experience has taught you anything it’s that goodbyes aren’t always permanent. You’ll see her well me again one day. I promise for now you have to keep going.”

You cried into him, “I’ll come see you too again some day..” 

He nodded gripping you tightly. “I fucking adore you, but you gotta go..Thank you Y/N..”

“For what?..”

“You didn’t know this version of me and you still raced to help me.” You nodded.

“I’ll always look out for you even it’s in another universe. I promise...” Adrian swayed with you for a bit longer letting himself cry on you.

“You know I’d still fuck you even though you’re old. You still look so fucking good.” He laughed at your words. 

“Don’t tempt me to take you up on that..” You laughed sniffling before closing your eyes. Adrian sighed as you slowly disappeared. 

You cried a bit feeling yourself leave. You felt terrible seeing Adrian so broken and tired. You shut your eyes before gasping as you felt the same sensation from before.

“Y/N!!” You screamed a bit as you fell on the floor groaning in pain.

“Holy shit!!” Adrian rushed you to you kneeling on the floor hauling you up. “Where are you hurt? Where did you come form?! Oh my god why do you smell like an old person’s home!”

You were home. Adrian panicked looking you over sighing in relief seeing no wounds.

“What the hell happened?! It’s been two days! No calls or anything!! I’ve been fucking worried! Do you have any idea how much you scared me!!!?? Fuck!” 

Your sniffle stopped his angry rant. “Oh my god! Please don’t cry! I’m sorry..I didn’t mean to yell! I shouldn’t have yelled! I didn’t even know what you’ve been going through for the last two days-”

Jumping on him, you clutched him tightly crying into his shoulder. “Let me hold you for a bit please?..” Adrian sighed concerned but held you closely.

“So much explaining to do.” You nodded.

“I promise I’ll say everything. Just please hold me..”

You both sat there for a good hour. Adrian gripped you tighter as you sniffled into his shoulder. “I’m sorry I worried you I didn’t mean too..”

He nodded, “It’s okay..I know you didn’t mean too.” 

“No I really really need to tell you I’m sorry..I don’t deserve you Adrian..”

“You deserve the world.” You cried a bit hearing his words. 

“Not much is different between the two of you after all..”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it so much..I missed you. I’m sorry I went M.I.A for a bit there..”

He sighed kissing your forehead. “Just don’t do it again okay? I think I’d be los without you..”

“You don’t wanna be alone again..”

“What Y/N?”

“I love you.” You leaned up kissing him. He smiled a bit, “I love you too..Happy birthday by the way. We had came back earlier than I thought but I was too worried to plan anything-”

“It’s okay..as long as you’re here I don’t need anything else Adrian..I’ll always be here for you too. I promise you..”

Adrian smiled as you nuzzled into his chest in content.

“I’m not too sure what happened but I’m happy you’re not hurt. Happy Birthday Y/N.”

“Thank you Adrian..” 

“Now why do you smell like pancakes and an old person’s home? Not that I’m complaining. Old people are cool and I like pancakes! Maybe a little too much, but I like kissing you for sure after you eat pancakes. You taste so much sweeter than you already do!..”

He trailed off as you admired him. Adrian was so beautiful and you kinda envied knowing now that no matter what he was always gonna be beautiful.

“Hey are you listening pretty?” You shook your head.

“You distracted me. I want tea with you please though for my birthday. I’ll explain everything then yeah?”

He nodded standing up with you, “Come on pretty girl. Let’s go get some tea and maybe then we could go out for your birthday? We still have some time in the day left.”

“I’d really like that..”

[buckyhoney]

𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜, 𝐜.𝐞

a/n: this was inspired by this ask, but i think it suits chris just as well, happy early birthday to the man himself!

pairing: dom!chris x reader

reblogs/feedback/likes are greatly appreciated & highly encouraged! however, DO NOT repost/steal ANY of my fics!

18+ warning

warnings: 18+, all porn- no plot, language, daddy kink, degrading kink, pussy spanking, use of sex toy, masturbation (f), panty stuffed in mouth, dirty talk, sorry for any missed typos!

words: 830ish

The sound of the shower door opening and closing pulls you out of your sinful dream. Grinding into nothing, you could feel the arousal on your inner thigh- your drippy cunt throbbing so loud you swore he could hear from the bathroom.

The need to cum causes tears to swell in the corner of your eyes, you whine into your pillow.

Knowing that he'll be at least ten minutes- you sit up, tearing your t-shirt off. The cotton grazing your sensitive pebbled nipples, making you whimper.

The next to go was your panties, the center soaked in arousal. Reaching behind you blindly, you grab his pillow.

Folding it in half, you sit perched on top. The attention brought to your pussy made you sigh in relief.

You began to grind your needy cunt into his scent- whimpering carelessly. Entranced in your own world, your eyes flutter shut, and your fingers roam your body.

Fingers tweak and rolling your nipples- kneading and messaging the other with your free hand. It doesn't take much friction for your legs to shake and strings of curses to escape your throat.

Your eyes roll back, and your mouth hangs open, grinding harder into his (now soaked) pillow.

So far into your own world, you didn't even hear the water shut off.

Chris stands staring at the criminal behavior taking place in front of him. He watches as your body falls forward, catching yourself with your hands- unable to sit up straight from the powerful orgasm.

"Look how pathetic you are- grinding your needy cunt on Daddy's pillow- couldn't even wait till I got out of the shower," Arms crossed and towel hanging around his hips, he shakes his head in disappointment.

Instant regret.

Heat flushes your face, and panic floods your body.

"Daddy! I'm sorry I-" Chris yanks the pillow from underneath you.

The contract with your sensitive clit makes you whimper. Chris glares down at you. He examines the pillow. Your arousal coats the pillowcase. He takes a deep breath, anger boiling on low.

"Made a mess all over Daddy's pillow- you filthy little whore." Tossing the pillow on the other side of the bed, your head hangs in shame.

"Aw, is my princess upset she came without permission or upset she got caught?" He tilts your chin up, tears from in the corner of your eyes.

"I'm sorry I came without permission- and on Daddy's pillow- my pussy was so tingly, and I just really needed to cum-" The tears fall down the sides of your face, praying that he would let you off easy.

"You just really needed to cum, huh? Had a wet dream? Needed a release?" Chris coos, wiping away the tears.

Nodding softly, he pouts his lips, mocking you.

"Just a little bitch in heat?" His thumb rubs over your bottom lip, slipping inside it inside your mouth.

Sucking gently, you nod- lips close around his thumb. Your eyes lock with his.

"Good little whore, always needing something stuffed in that pretty little mouth."

Removing his thumb, he says,

"Lay down." Nervous for what the punishment will be for breaking the golden rule, you lay down- not daring to break another rule.

Disappearing inside your shared closet, you knew exactly what he was getting—the ache returns, but this time stronger. The red crushed velvet box appears- and only appears for ultimate punishments. Chris opens the box, pulling out the wand.

Plugging into the extension cord on the floor by your side of the bed, he turns it on—the low buzzing making your heart skip a beat.

"You're not allowed to make a sound." The seriousness in his tone made your hips squirm.

He knew how hard it was for you to stay quiet with the wand- he knew and he was gonna enjoy watching you struggle.

"Spread those legs for me; let me get a good look at that drippy cunt." A sting of arousal pulls from your inner thighs.

"Pathetic," Chris spits, two fingers spread open your folds.

The sudden contact with your clit makes you whine, forgetting about the rule. The sharp sting makes you cry out. Chris's fingers swat your clit, making you cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"What the fuck did I say?"

He grabs the wand- turning it up a few notches- while your spread open with his thumb and pointer finger. Placing the wand directly on your swollen clit, your body twitching and squirming. Unable to control the whines, Chris pulls the vibrator away.

Another swat to your pulsating cunt- your legs tremble.

"Dumb whore can't seem to follow simple instructions." Reaching down, Chris grabs your damp panties.

Balling them up, he stuffs your mouth with the panties- muffling your sounds.

"Now, let's try this again," Spreading you open again, your eyes roll back, and your back arches with the vibrations on your clit.

[seita]

— mood consequence | m.

pairing : iwaizumi/reader

wordcount : 2.127

genre : fluff, smut, pwp

cw : established relationship

tags : mean!iwa, daddy kink, dirty talk, name calling, degredation, size kink, no prep, clit spanking, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, a bit of aftercare.

note : this is my part of the haikyuu headquarters nsfw server collab!

collab masterlist.

+ summary : your boyfriend is in a bad mood and decides to use you as a source of release.

To the untrained eye, Iwaizumi looked unbothered. But after years of dating him, you could tell something was bothering him. His shoulders were tense and he was sitting straight up in his seat with his hands fisted against his thighs. He kept his gaze trained outside, watching the people pass by on the street with his jaw tense and set. The muscles in his face twitched every once in a while as he listened to the conversation floating back and forth over the table.

You made it a point to ignore him and his bad mood. But you weren’t sure if Oikawa, Matsukawa, or Hanamaki even noticed it.

Prior to leaving for dinner, he had come home in a terrible mood. You reminded him that the two of you promised to have dinner with your friends.

“Why couldn’t you have reminded me yesterday?!” he had snapped, tossing his jacket haphazardly onto the bed, leaving you to quickly pick it up and hang it properly so it wouldn’t get wrinkled, “I really don’t want to go.”

You told him that there were reservations and that it was Hanamaki’s birthday dinner. He continued to complain the entire time you were getting ready, snapping at you when you were a few minutes late to putting on your shoes -- leaving him waiting by the door until you came running down the stairs mumbling apologies.

The entire drive to the restaurant was tense and uncomfortable, leaving him in an even worse mood and only serving to tick you off.

As you sat down in your chair, pulled out by Matsukawa, you decided to make a point of ignoring your boyfriend as much as you could without ruining the dinner for the others.

A few drinks were down and you found yourself laughing and talking excitedly with Hanamaki who was telling you about some job interviews he had lined up.

Iwaizumi watches out of the corner of his eye as you and his friend have a nice time. Matsukawa and Oikawa are lost in their own conversation, leaving Iwaizumi quietly sitting beside the window. For a moment, you forget about the fact he’s angry and on edge - instead listening to Makki talk about his goals.

You completely miss the dark look in your boyfriend's eye as he downs over half of his beer in one sitting.

The ride back home is just as tense as it was there. His knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel, jaw still set hard as he stares ahead at the road. You choose to ignore it, gazing out the window at the passing scenery.

He doesn’t let you ignore it for long, however. You step into your apartment, shutting the door while he lingers on the stoop, smoking a cigarette.

He bounces on his heels at the cold, free hand shoved into his jeans pockets as he sees you flick on the lights inside. The nicotine does nothing to settle his bad mood.

In fact, the time alone allows him to replay the entire dinner over in his head. From the way you had leaned in to let Makki whisper something in your ear that, for some reason, had you near tears from laughing to the seemingly innocent hand that rested on the pink haired man’s shoulder as you spoke to him. Logically, he knew that you knew nothing by it -- you weren’t attracted to Hanamaki. However, the already bad mood that festered for far too long threw all logical reasoning out the window and he settled on punishing his little brat.

You hear the apartment door open and close, followed by his huffing and muttering as he kicks his shoes off and hangs his coat up properly before making his way to the bedroom.

You hummed innocently, slipping a soft, worn t-shirt of his over your head. you quickly caught him standing in the doorway and you gave him a little smile.

“Are you ready for bed?” you ask, frowning when he didn't respond.

Instead, he worked on stripping himself of his jeans and button-down. His back was to you and he could see the way you watched him in the mirror, eyeing the flex of the muscles in his back as he moved.

“You seemed awfully close with Hanamaki tonight,” he muttered, internally cringing at the words.

You immediately met his gaze in the glass, frowning. The confusion and innocence in your gaze was genuine but it still ticked him off. It wasn't your fault that he was in a rotten mood and looking for a fight.

“Well, I mean,” you shrug, keeping your voice calm in hopes of settling him down, “We’re all friends. It was his birthday, should I have ignored him all evening?”

You giggle, the teasing lilt in your tone finally breaking him. He spun around, taking two long strides towards you before his hand was suddenly wrapped around your throat.

You gasped and looked up at him with wide eyes, mouth agape. The fiery behind his gaze had your own body heating up and you immediately knew that it was going to be a long night.

“I want you naked with your legs open for me,” he hissed, “right now.”

You nodded, quickly yanking your shirt over your head, flushing as you felt the heated gaze on your breasts. You let yourself fall back on the bed, hooking your thumbs into the band of your panties to push them off of your thighs.

As soon as you were naked, you let your legs fall open. He hums, staring at your folds before licking his lips.

You really were so pretty. So soft looking. Already your little cunt was getting wet for him, your folds parting to give him a teasing glimpse of the sensitive little clit and pretty hole he loved to torment.

“Open yourself for me, show me that slutty cunt,” he orders, grinning when you immediately do as you're told.

You lift your thighs, knees pressed to your chest so you could reach beneath them and part your folds with two fingers. Being exposed under his intense gaze had you trembling, but he could see the way your cunt clenched around nothing, drooling slick.

“I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were here with me right now…” he crawls onto the bed, resting on his knees between your spread legs, “spread out like this for me, looking like a little whore. Hm? Do you think he’d like that?”

You whine, watching as he tugs the band of his boxers down to free his cock. It slaps against his stomach, making his body shudder at the feeling. The veins in his arm and hand bulge as he wraps his fist around his cock, languidly stroking himself to the sight of you holding your cunt open for him.

“D-Don’t want to think about him, Daddy,” you whisper, biting your lip, “Only want you.”

He groans at the way the name slides off of your tongue, so sweet and pretty. Your words have him grinning, pride and possessiveness intermingling to drive him forward. He taps the head of his cock against your clit and you gasp at the feeling.

“Is that so?” he asks, teasing. His gaze is glued to your pussy, watching as he drags the head of his cock through your folds - from your entrance up to your clit.

“Oh, Daddy…” you coo, growing lax against the bed as he plays with the little bud like that - stroking it back and forth with the smooth skin of his cock.

“You're so wet, do you hear that?” he asks, humming when he prods your entrance again just to hear the lewd, slick sounds.

“'S all for you, Daddy,” you pant, biting your lip.

He nods, “That’s right, baby. But,” he sighs and begins to prod the little hole, slowly pushing inside.

Your eyes grow wide and you squeal, “Wait! Daddy! ‘S too big!”

He grins, watching your eyes grow glassy with unshed tears at the burning pain of being stretched by a nice, far cock with no prep.

“You pissed me off, baby,” he sighs, “And only good girls get prepped, you know?”

You whine, shuddering as you nod, “‘M sorry, Daddy. But I’m all y-yours. Don’t want Makki.”

He growls, rolling his hips forward to suddenly sink the entirety of his length inside you. You sob, back arching as you reach out and press your hands against his stomach - hoping to keep him from prodding painfully at your cervix.

“Don’t say another man’s name while I’m stuffing your little whore cunt nice and full,” he spits, making you whine out soft apologies.

He thinks you're so cute like this. So submissive, doing anything to make your Daddy happy - even letting him stretch your cunt past its limit. Still, he doesn't want to overwhelm you so he sits still, feeling your walls flutter as you slowly adjust.

His thumb finds its way to your clit and you whine, eyes rolling back as he circles the bud. Your thighs tremble and twitch at the feeling, body slowly relaxing against the bed - letting him know you're okay to take him.

He knows you'll say that little word if it's too much - he trusts you to tell him if you can't do it anymore. So he starts with a rough pace, harshly slamming his hips into yours - pummeling your cervix and making your body lock up in pain but the way he drags against your g-spot has you creaming beautifully.

There's a white ring at the base of his cock, a mess being made from the way your boyfriend expertly works your cunt. It leaves his cock throbbing painfully against your walls.

“Are you going to cum?” he asks, feeling the way you squeeze around him, crying out and sobbing his name.

“Yes, Daddy, please make me cum!” you immediately beg, eyes glossy and teary as you stare up at him.

“Tell Daddy what you need then,” he says, eyeing the way your breasts bounce. He can't resist reaching up to palm one, squeezing the soft flesh in his hand.

“M-My clit, Daddy, please!” you cry, grinding your hips down in fruitless frustration to get what you want.

“This?” he softly brushes the pad of his thumb over the hard, swollen little bud between your folds, “What about it? Want Daddy to spank it?”

Before you answer, he lays a mean little slap against the bud and you sob, the tears finally falling down your cheeks, “Daddy! Please t-touch my clit, make me cum!”

“Aw,” he coos, “Such a polite little girl.”

He takes mercy on you, rolling his thumb over the bud. A quick few circles has you going still. He watches with a lidded gaze, your body going lax while your thighs tremble erratically. Your mouth is open, chest heaving with the breathless little gasps you let out.

After a moment, and a few well-aimed thrusts of his cock, you seem to flicker back to life. Your back arches off of the bed and you squeal, legs kicking as pleasure floods through you.

He’s cruel, almost sadistic, in the way he forces you to ride out the orgasm. He doesn't slow or take his thumb off of your clit, sending you ever higher into euphoria.

You squirt, gushing cum all over his abs and thighs - soaking his cock as you squeal and cry out for him.

“Daddy! Daddy! Ah, pl-please! Please! Daddy!” he can listen to you scream for him all day but eventually, the messy, slick sounds of him stuffing your cunt and the deadly hold your cunt has on his cock has him cumming.

His hips stutter before he sinks completely inside, prodding your cervix and making you cry even harder before he releases - pumping his load as deep as he possibly can.

You’re still trembling and crying as everything comes to a slow end and he sighs, scooping you up into his arms to cradle you close to him. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his neck, letting out all the intense emotions that overflowed at the end.

“Shh, my good girl,” he coos, “Daddy is so proud of you, took it so well.”

“I-I don't like Makki, you know that right, Daddy?” you ask, sniffling without bringing your head from the safety of his chest.

He nods and kisses the top of your head, “I know, Daddy is sorry, he was just in a bad mood.”

You’re quiet for a second before asking, “Do you feel better now?”

He can’t help but smile, hugging you tight as he assures you that you made it all better, loving the way you brighten up and beam happily at the admission.

seita © 2020 | all content and its rights belong to me. do not modify or repost.

[damiano-mylove]

Paintings and Peach Juice

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x afab!reader (I'm so sorry)

Wc: 1.5k

Cw(s): SMUT, swearing, oral (reader receiving), lowkey praise kink, but pretty vanilla (tell me if it sucks)

Summary: You, the reader, work on a painting during the night, but Ethan wants to bring you back to bed.

Masterlist

Paint stroked across the canvas in perfect placement with your brush. It laid onto the stretched canvas like the softest butter on the warmest toast. Every stroke, every colour, the portrait was only enhanced and made that much more beautiful by your talent. The smell of the oil paints filled the room, vented out by the window across from you; the scent only relaxed you further. Your thoughts roamed to the most peaceful crevasse of your mind while your hands seemed to know just what to do.

By the corner of your eye, you caught your reflection in the mirror in your living room. You had a paint smear on your cheek, and the messiest hairstyle you'd ever seen. But you looked happy. In the bright moonlight from the window, your eyes glistened with thought and concentration. You smiled to your reflection before continuing your painting.

In just a few days, Ethan would finally be allowed to see the painting. He'd promised he hadn't seen it, and you had to trust that he hadn't ruined his birthday present, that you've been working so hard on, for himself. While Ethan was milling about and awake, you'd had to cover the canvas in a cloth, but when he was gone or asleep, you sat right on your cushioned stool, legs crossed, totally ensconced by the artwork at your fingertips.

Just as you began touching up the whites of Ethan's eyes, on the portrait, you heard his soft footsteps against the hardwood floor of your flat. You quickly but carefully covered the painting with your cloth, that once was white but now appeared yellow with a streak of blue paint. Languid and nimble were your movements, just as Ethan rounded the corner into the living room, where you were.

His perfectly sculpted lips pulled into a smile, only revealing to you that he was still partially asleep. You grinned right back at the man without any clothing, save for his boxers. Your gorgeous swain padded toward you, then wrapped his strong arms around your middle. His lips, that were still slick with lip balm, met with the most tender part of your neck.

"Bed's cold without you," Ethan whispered in your ear. You sighed with a small smile, turning your head to capture Ethan's lips with your own very chastely. Within the kiss, Ethan began to smile before he spun your stool around to place his hands on your thighs.

Once the kiss broke, you sighed, "Five more minutes?"

"Amorino." His tone was the perfect bridge between authoritative and begging, only enhanced by him removing his hands. Sweetly, you pulled Ethan toward you with your legs. His warm, rough hand traveled up your leg as he came forward, only to rest on the underside of your thigh, that wrapped around his waist.

Gently, your fingers touched to his jaw. They danced just every so slightly as your hand began to rest, cupping his jaw, with your fingertips touching the roots of his illustrious hair.  Ethan's other hand pulled you infinitely closer, with his fingers gripping your waist as if you were the most expensive glass in the world; not hard enough to break you, but not soft enough to drop you.

In a steady yet slow movement, both of your leaned forward just enough till your lips came together, softer than The Creation of Adam. Your other leg hooked around his waist, to join the first, and Ethan picked you up with ease. He'd never had any trouble picking you up, even in a sleep coated state.

The kiss continued with a warm passion that translated between both of your souls, that you could feel from the pit of your stomach to the tip of your brain. Warmth from Ethan's skin was absorbed by your own skin, only forcing your heart to ache, along with the sweet watermelon taste from his lip balm that he applied every night before bed.

His footsteps were very sure and steady as Ethan brought you to the couch. The room got warmer, despite the cool Autumn air coming in through the window. Your hands wandered Ethan's exposed body in calm and known movements, while Ethan's hands squeezed handfuls of your thigh, leading to your ass. Lightly, your nails drew small patterns and pictures on Ethan's warm back, his muscles rippling beneath your touch.

"Dolcezza mia, I love you, I love you with my entire being," Ethan mumbled against your lips. You smiled like you'd never smiled before. Without a word, your lips wandered to the corner of his mouth, down to his jawline.

Your own lips peppered kisses that were wet and sloppy, but full of love, followed a vein on his neck. Ethan hummed above you, but his breath caught when, between your teeth, was Ethan's earlobe. You chuckled lowly, grazing your teeth gently across it. Ethan captured your lips again, the passion raw yet still demure. You broke the kiss to remove Ethan's t-shirt, that you were wearing.

"I love you even more," you responded.

With the revelation of the words leaving your lips, Ethan's ferocity was renewed. His lips pressed into yours with gracious meaning, leaving your heartbeat to multiply as he grinded himself into your heat that was clothed in just a pair of thin underwear. Ethan's tongue slipped by your lips, then perused your mouth. He tasted of peach juice and mint, which went extremely nicely.

Just as you were enjoying the taste of Ethan's tongue, his mouth left yours, opting to kiss and nip at other parts of your skin. In a hot and wet trail, Ethan's mouth began to trail down your body. His eyes looked to you for consent, to which you adamantly nodded, your breathing already heavy and hot.

In a steady yet serene movement, Ethan broke the hold your legs had on him to pull your underwear off of your form. For a second, before returning, your boyfriend took a moment just to admire you in your natural, beauteous state. His smile returned with his body on yours.

His face was level with your dripping, wet heat, as Ethan looked up at you with dark eyes, clouded with lust and extremely dilated pupils. You bit the corner of your lip just as he licked up your slit, catching your juices on his tongue, then enjoying your taste. You'd both been drinking peach juice earlier.

Then, without warning, the sweetness turned to pure sex. You let out a gasp as his tongue entered your folds, your hands tangling in the roots of Ethan's long hair. Still with his tongue circling inside of you, Ethan moaned at the sensation of you pulling against his hair, which sent vibrations through your core that seemed to reach even your fingertips.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Ethan," you groaned as his thumb found your clit. Ethan circled the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pad of his finger, until his tongue and fingers switched roles.

It became his tongue that circled your clit, and Ethan's long, rough finger that entered your tight hole. You let out a pleasurable moan, which was only encouragement for the man between your thighs.

"You're absolutely fucking amazing." Who the fuck knew if your words were even intelligible? How could they be when the most gorgeous human being on the planet was taking you with his mouth, right on your couch, in the middle of the night?

That familiar pressure in your stomach began to form. It was a nucleus of sensation, your orgasm just ready to burst. Ethan noticed your breathing become more ragged, only to add another finger but keep the same pace. You began to shake, ready for what was to come, as your body began to coat in sweat. Against your clit, Ethan could be felt smiling, just before he delivered the final blow.

His lips completely captured your clit, sucking on it gently.

Orgasm hit you like the train at the end of Anna Karenina. Your legs shook around Ethan's head, your walls pulsing around his fingers, and total bliss overtaking every single one of your senses. Ethan only chuckled, lapping up the juices you produced for him. That only increased your pleasure tenfold.

"You're so gorgeous when you're getting fucked," Ethan commented after kissing your clit. You smiled, looking at him with slightly blurred vision. He laughed before picking you up in a bridal style, letting you rest against him.

Ethan brought you to the bedroom, where he then brought you a clean pair of underwear and a washcloth. You then asked, "What about you?"

"Oh, Amorino, you don't even have to touch me to make me come," Ethan laughed as he cleaned you off. You cast your eyes to his boxers, where an incredibly wet patch was visible. You felt a bit bad, but nothing could bring you off of this high. Ethan cast the washcloth away, to be dealt with when the sun rose, before changing his boxers out for clean ones.

As you both got back into the bed, Ethan pulled you close to his chest, where his lips connected with your forehead. "I really do love you," you whispered.

"And I love you."

Sleep came in a swift wind, making your senses shut down each by each. Last to go was the sound of Ethan's heart, beating in a deep rhythm, and his breathing that tickled your hair ever so slightly.