#instead of being a douchebag

[quartzskies]

random but is anyone else into yosurise but in a doomed kind of way. like kind of one sided. like a yosuke is into rise in a puppydog kind of way and rise keeps trying to find a relationship but can’t and finally decides to give yosuke a try because at least he’s a friend and she knows he won’t try to take advantage of her being an idol etc. And yosuke is ECSTATIC and wants to give her the world but in an unsustainable kind of way, a desperate “i don’t deserve her but she’s giving me a chance and i need to do anything i can to keep her happy” kind of way. And rise is so flattered and like yosuke is nice but she can’t match that dedication, no one can or should, but it’s all so one sided and she feels so guilty about that but she doesn’t want to break his heart or be “mean”. all while yosuke is becoming almost self destructive by trying to give her “what she deserves” but it’s an unhealthy level of dedication and it’s honestly hurting both of them

[florida3exclamationpoints]

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[lymtw]

Toji watching as you're being buttered up, sweet talked, and undressed with unfamiliar eyes, right in front of him.

His eyes don't waver from your face as you politely smile at the half drunk man on Toji's right side. The man is slurring on and on about how you're incredibly easy on the eyes, and how you stand out even in the minimal lighting of the bar, while you just laugh and try to leave the conversation by disengaging, but once again, you're roped into talking with the man when he asks if you're single.

You would have said no voluntarily, but the question clearly struck a nerve with Toji. His hand went to the small of your back, his palm circling the area slowly. It wasn't that he was insecure, he could tell you loved him from the million times you said it a day, but it was his secure claim on you.

You looked at Toji for the first time in a minute, meeting his blown pupils with attentive eyes. You could see how irked he was by this man continuing to hit on you, and you knew that Toji would get his knuckles bloody if you didn't say what you knew in your heart.

You kept your eyes on his, like you were being let into his thoughts. He was dead serious, not a glimpse of light in his eyes. You didn't want him to feel this way, so in an attempt to bring the slightest amount of comfort, you put your hand on his, squeezing with reassurance. After a few seconds of silent communication, he nodded towards the man who awaited your response.

You leaned forward again and told the stranger that you were happily taken by the handsome devil sitting beside you, pointing your thumb in Toji's direction. Toji turned and gave the guy a once over, confidence cascading over him at knowing that if push came to shove, he could rock this guy's shit. His menacing demeanor radiated off of him, making the man obviously uncomfortable. He was now being sized up by someone with much colder eyes. He nervously nodded at Toji, the action not reciprocated by the latter.

The man leaned forward, like he was going to start talking to you again, so Toji turned his attention back to you. He didn't need to keep an eye on him because the man was blocked off by him. Now, if the douchebag were to walk over to your side it would be another story, but Toji would keep him in check until he tried.

You take a sip of your soda water, some of it seeping down the corner of your lip when you hear the man address you again. Toji was quick to wipe the liquid off your face with his thumb, suppressing a grin at the small "sorry", you muttered to him. You were clearly fed up with this man who just wouldn't let up. Toji could see it in the way your eyes rolled every time you had to lean forward and look past him to look at the stranger again. Your audible sigh was the last straw. No one as grimy as this mole rat looking man should have the power to ruin your time out.

Just as Toji turned to face the man again, he grabbed his belongings and stood up, getting lost in the crowd of people around you. Toji was vibrating with adrenaline, his heart pumping in his ears from holding himself back. He had to remind himself that he wasn't out alone anymore like he used to be. The last thing he wanted was for you to be scared and cry because he decided to make a scene and rip someone's face off.

You on the other hand looked socially exhausted, your head down on the counter.

"Baby," Toji coos, leaning in so that you can hear him. "I just can't take you anywhere, can I?" His hand goes to your head, his fingers running through your hair. "People see you, and they really can't help making assholes of themselves."

"I just wanna go home, Toji," you mumble, holding your hand out to receive the car keys. Instead, he takes your hand, pulling you up and onto your feet.

"Like hell. I'm driving." His hand is on your lower back as you step away from the bar. It goes down into the right butt pocket of your shorts, as he guides you through the crowd in search of the exit.

"You sure you're okay to drive?" You ask, looking up at him.

"I'm sober as a nun, baby." He grins at the little giggle you let out. He knew it was your turn to drive home this time, but he just wanted to lift your mood again after that dickhead drained it.

—

"You were eating up that loser's attention, weren't you?" Toji asks, side eyeing you then looking back at the road.

"It was nice for two seconds," you respond, looking out the window. "It's always nice to be considered attractive by others."

"So, i'm chopped liver, huh?" He smirks, glancing at you again. You don't respond, so he decides to cool it with the jokes. "It feels good until you start getting unwanted attention. Don't let dumbasses like that make you uncomfortable, mama." Toji's hand goes to your thigh, three squeezes to the plush to comfort you, this time. "Was about to murder the man, but he ran away like a coward." He side eyes you when he hears that intoxicatingly sweet laugh again. "Oh, that's funny?" He asks, a smirk on his face.

"You're insane," you laugh.

"Don't act like you don't love it."

—

Once Toji pulls into the driveway of your house, he has his intentions clear in mind. He's gonna show you how much he appreciates you. After all, you deserve it for knowing him so well and putting up with him. It's incredible that you know when he's not okay, but also when he's having a really good day, just by looking into his eyes.

You both exit the car, Toji quickly catching up to you on the other side. His hands rest on your hips as you walk, causing you to turn around and look at him.

"Face forward or you'll crash," he says, as you near the front door of your house. He pulls out his copy of your house key, swiftly unlocking the door.

You're glad Toji has a spare to your house. Who knows how many times the door would have been replaced had you not given him one. You have a habit of taking long naps, and because of it, you quickly learned that if you leave his messages unanswered for too long, he will show up at your door and knock aggressively until you answer. There was always the 'next time i'm kicking it down by the third try' comment when you finally opened the door, so you gave him the spare to avoid that scenario.

You walk ahead to your bedroom as Toji secures your house. He locks the front door, shuts the windows, and pulls down the shades before meeting you in the room.

He leans against the doorframe of your bedroom, and allows his eyes to rake over your body as you lay there like a starfish with your limbs extended.

"You gonna make room for me or what?" He asks, walking into the room.

You cross your legs together and throw your arms over your face. "Is that enough space for you? Or should I roll onto the floor to make more room?"

"Uh-uh. Nah, baby." Toji chuckles, reaching the end of your bed. He crawls towards you, effortlessly pulling your legs apart. "You're not gonna try this attitude with me. I haven't done anything to you, so put the brat away before I do it for you."

Your heart races at the threat, and you wonder if it's real, so you spare a glance at him from beneath your forearm. Contrary to his stern words, his hands are touching your skin so delicately. His fingers trace the harsh indentations the straps of your high heel left above your ankle.

"The cost of looking so fine all the time," he mutters, under his breath. You reacted like a child, only wincing at the pain once Toji paid attention to it. You didn't spare a second thought when you undid the buckles on your heels, opting to throw yourself on the bed immediately after they were off, but suddenly you needed Toji to make it stop hurting.

Toji kisses the damage, his hand wrapped around your ankle, loosely. "My own little shard of heaven," he hums into your skin. Your arms fell beside you on the bed as you admired the image before you—Toji's very high functioning attempt at healing you.

It was a welcome change, compared to the usual effect he had on you. Being Toji's lover turned you into a flammable substance, and he ignited you. He did everything he could to make his touch your greatest weakness, and now flames rise within you every time his hands meet your skin. Your body emanates heat when he trains your flammability with lingering touches.

This time was much different.

He was the chemical that put out forest fires, he was a breath blowing out a candle, he was soothing water.

He moves up your body, his lips trailing your shin before reaching your knee. His gaze meets your twinkling one. If he looks long enough, he can locate stars in your eyes. It's something that motivates him to keep going.

He takes up the space between your legs, his hand hooked into the waistband of your shorts. His fingers fiddle with the metal button and quickly undo it, pulling the zipper down before he leans forward to kiss you. You can feel the button to his jeans on your stomach, the warm metal heating up even more as it rubbed against your skin.

He chuckles, holding himself above you. "Feeling it, too, huh?"

You run your hands up his chest and the sides of his neck, before going up one more time to cup his face. You pull him closer, allowing your lips to lock with his again. Toji could tell you wanted to devour him by the way you held onto him so tight. Your hands balled up the back of his shirt into your fists, your thighs squeezing his hips.

He breaks the kiss, looking straight into your dilated pupils while you catch your breath. It was precious seeing you this way, so needy that your body started reacting on it's own. "You know, i'm always feeling you, princess," he murmurs to you, his face inches away from yours. "Want you all the time... It's almost ridiculous how often I think of fucking you." His lips press to the corner of your lips, tracing your jawline afterwards. "I say almost ridiculous because..." his lips go further, now beneath your ear, "it's my business, and I don't care."

You giggle at his attitude, your eyes shut as you thread your fingers through his hair. His breath reaches your earlobe, bringing goosebumps to your skin. "You don't care?" You repeat.

His eyes are lidded when he leans back to look at you again. "Not one fuck is spared for anything but you, ma." His hands go down to the bare skin your unbuttoned shorts revealed, feeling up the soft warmth of your waist. You squirm slightly at the roughness of his hands combined with his lustful gaze on you.

"I've got my eyes on you anytime you're in a room, got that?" He says, bowing down to kiss below your bellybutton. He looks at you through his lashes, seeing the small nod you respond with. "Do you get it or not?" He murmurs into your skin. "Gotta give me more, pretty girl."

"I know," you respond, propping yourself on your elbows to nervously meet his green eyes.

"Good. You don't take shit from anyone but me. Am I clear?"

You laugh, letting yourself fall back on the bed again. Your sudden fit of laughter brings a smirk onto Toji's face as he continues to kiss your lower body. You compose yourself, before responding to his question. "Only you, Toji."

"Mhm," he hums, his lips grazing the lace trimming of your panties. You lift your hips to let him roll the material of your shorts and underwear down. Your legs come up to kick them off. Toji sighs, "I know you wouldn't do me dirty, ever. You're too sweet. Practically incapable, mama." Your thighs became victims to his lips. Your delicate skin gained bright red blotches in uneven patterns, an act of worship from your lover.

You knew Toji this way—dominant and possessive. This was just the start, but even if he were to only mark up your lower body, you both know they're there. You'll think of him when you change your clothes, and if you don't mind them, a simple look in that direction from Toji will remind you.

"So wet, already." He can see the glistening of your arousal coated folds. "I've only been teasing you... and you're already this wet?" It's a rhetorical question. The sight has Toji practically zoning out, almost missing the flush on your cheeks from all the attention.

"Toji..." you whine, embarrased by the amusement he finds as he keeps observing you.

"Bless you, mama," he mutters, bringing his hands towards your cunt. The tip of his middle finger is the first part of him to make contact with your pussy. He glides it up and down once to see how much of your slick he can collect. You shudder at the contact, a sharp inhale lured from you.

"See that?" He holds his hand up, showing you the shiny coat on his middle finger. You look and in a split second you see him commit a heinous act, popping the finger into his mouth to suck off your juice.

"Jesus, Toji," you put your arms over your face again to hide the furious blush that ambushed it.

"Acting all disturbed when you know i'm about to put my mouth all over your pretty pussy."

You're in no place to argue when you know he's right, so you peek at him until you feel your nerves subside a little more.

"It's so perfect. Almost don't wanna make you cum." He stares at your glossy cunt, his eyes slowly trailing up your body to meet your flustered expression.

Your heart sinks. Toji was good at maneuvering his tongue. He's made you cum more times than you can count using just the muscle, so him telling you that you possibly weren't being given that option this time scared you a little.

"Could stay here forever... between these very pretty thighs." His hand caresses your one of them, his fingers splaying on it before squeezing the plush. "Say you'll let me edge you for hours, darling." He's asking out of courtesy. If he really wants to do it, there's no need to ask for permission.

"Toji," you laugh, dropping the smile when you don't see him laughing. "Please, no." You prop yourself on your elbows again, looking down at him.

"It'll be so good. Don't even worry your pretty little head." His hand presses against your stomach, signaling for you to lie down again. He goes back down, his gaze on your cunt again. He blows on it, watching you squirm at the gentle sensation. Something about the reactions makes him chuckle, lowly. You were so weak for him, you wouldn't last five minutes. With that in mind, his tongue peeks out, testing your reaction to it against your clit. Your hips push back against the mattress when the warmth meets you.

"Stay still," he says, before trying again. The tip of his tongue glides up from your entrance to your clit, eliciting a tremble from your thighs. He smirks to himself at the sound of your quiet breaths. Another stripe is traced between your folds, a more audible moan leaving you. Your thighs falter in their ability to stay open.

"What did I just say, ma? Stay still." He pries your legs open again and hooks his arms around your thighs. Won't tell you again. I'll bring out the rope next time you interrupt me."

"I-I can't do this, Toji," you say, your nervousness clear in your gaze.

"You've barely given me a chance, and you're already a nervous wreck?" He kisses your thigh, the act somewhat settling your nerves. "Just wanna play with you... and ruin you..." Toji can feel his cock throbbing more with every second that he holds back from devouring you. "...and make you cry from how bad you wanna cum. That too much to ask for?"

"N-No, I guess no-"

"Good," he cuts you off, a grin on his face. "Just lay there and look pretty. Take everything with grace like the good girl I know you are."

You sigh, not prepared for the next couple hours you would have to withstand.

—

"Wanna cum?" Toji asks for the nth time that night, a twisted smile on his face while he steadily curls two fingers inside of you. Your legs tremble in your mind fucked daze, your cunt messily covered in slick and Toji's saliva. You know the answer he's gonna give you and yet you still respond with the remaining ability you have to think.

"P-Please..." you hiccup, a fresh stream of tears falling down your cheeks to accumulate with the ones that already dried. "Can I?" you attempt to sit up, your abdomen trembling as you bend slightly before falling back. "Please, Toji?" Your chest caves in with a deep breath as you try to suppress a sob.

"No," he simply says, slowly pulling his fingers out of your pulsing cunt. With all the slick that webbed onto them, he was sure you would cum so quickly if he didn't manage his pace. He sighs, fascinated by the texture of the sticky fluid on his fingers. "Poor thing," he coos, as if his boxers aren't drenched with a significant amount of precum. "You look angelic when you cry for me." His hand strokes your thigh while he peppers kisses onto the other one.

You breathe shakily when you feel his hand getting close to your pussy again. "Ready to go again?" He asks, a sly grin on his face when he meets your glossy eyes.

"Toji..." you swallow, shaking as he narrows his focus on your ruined cunt.

"Hm?" He hums, dizzy on his own obsession with making you beg for something he doesn't want to give you just yet.

"Please, I can't wait anymore. You're killing me."

Toji didn't mean to take it this far, at first. He solely intended to make you feel loved after seeing the switch in your demeanor at the bar. He was gonna kiss up your body and whisper his favorite things about you while he made love to you. Then he was between your legs and you were looking down at him with that warmth in your eyes, visually proving that you loved him to death, so he decided it was best to break you instead. He had to make your eyes roll into the back of your head.

"You can handle it. You're my good girl, and you know this gets me off, so you're gonna take it, right?"

Once again, you're left with no chance of refusing. What's another while of not being able to cum?

—

Toji was lapping at your cunt like you were fading away and he would never get to taste you again. He was relentless with your clit, pointing his tongue in order to abuse it with precision.

"A-Ah, fuck...Toji," you whimpered. "Please... please, Toji, please. Can I..."

"Mmm..." Toji hums, sucking on your clit. He's ignoring your pleas for mercy, too enveloped in your sweetness to think about your aching need to cum. He knows you want it, and little do you know that he's getting it to you.

"Wanna cum, baby?" He asks you one more time, his middle finger teasing your entrance.

"Uh-huh."

"Use your words, mama. Try that again." It doesn't help that he's thumbing at your clit, rubbing slowly, causing you to stutter and your thoughts to fall through.

"Y-Yes, please," you respond, shuddering afterwards. "Please, make me cum."

His fingers reentered you, immediately curling and abusing the sensitive spot hidden within you. His tongue focused on your clit, swirling around it with that devilish pointed tongue. You were completely ruined by the time you came. Toji pulled his fingers out of you, in favor making out of with your pussy, his lips gliding up and down your slit as you vibrated beneath him. You fisted the sheets beneath you, loud, broken moans leaving you as wave after wave of pleasure was inflicted onto your core.

"T-Toji!" You moaned, whimpering as he continued to devour you. Your juices covered the lower half of his face, dripping down his chin, and onto the collar of his shirt. Your thighs clamped around his head and your hand pulled at his dark locks as you rolled your hips against his face until you couldn't stand it anymore. "Oh god... oh fuck!" you pant. "N-No more, no more, Toji." Your thighs are shut tightly around his head, barely working to get him to stop.

He unlatches from your clit with a pop, his hands coming up to pull your thighs apart. You look at him through heavy, lidded eyes. His lips are glossy with your cum on them, his chin was dripping in it as well. After a minute of just listening to your heavy breathing, Toji climbs up your body again, your sensitive cunt twitching at the feeling of his jeans brushing up against it. His hands go to the sides of your head, sparing him stability so he lean down and kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips and his tongue as the flavor is distributed between your mouths.

He breaks the kiss, his face still inches away from yours. "You taste that, right?"

"Mhm," you mumble, lightheaded from your lack of breath.

"I can have that taste in my mouth whenever I want. Aren't you jealous?"

"Mm... no, 'cause you can always share it with me. Put some of it on my tongue. Some mouth to mouth action..." you spare a lazy grin for Toji

He chuckles. "That was a once in a lifetime thing, doll. I'm all for sharing anything with you, but that's all for me."

[rowarn]

okay i'm back to expand on toxic situationship simon vs smitten golden retriever könig fighting for ur attention!!!

when simon first met you, he had no intention of interacting with you let alone "dating" you. but it just kind of....happened. you had a way of worming your way into his thoughts and his life.

the problem was that he was not build for a relationship. he had problems. a lot of them. he wasn't the type to work on himself, he was the type to find distractions to cope with the mess that was in his head at all times.

the closer you tried to get to him, the further he pulled away. but then when you backed off, he remembered he needed you as a distraction. so he'd rein you back in only for the cycle to continue.

he ignored how much it hurt you, how sometimes your eyes would swim with tears when he gave you the cold shoulder and told you to leave him alone. it wasn't like you understood what was going on — simon refused to open up and tell you that he was just...fucking messy in the head. instead, he just let you think he was some sleazy douchebag who used you for a quick fuck only to toss to the curb when you annoyed him.

part of him wondered (but didn't care bc it benefited him) why you kept coming back after how much he hurt your feelings. but when he wasn't being an intentional jackass to get you to leave him alone for a week or two, he was a great guy. a gentleman. he spoke to you with a soft but not condescending tone and was patient even when you asked stupid questions. when he had you as his distraction, he enjoyed your company and you enjoyed his — only for him to turn around and spew vitriol out of left field.

it was during one of the times he had chased you off that you met könig. on an elevator of all things. the entire mechanical box shuddered with his weight and you were downright shocked as the hulking mass of him ducked to step in.

when you asked what floor, he spoke with a quiet, almost nervous tone to tell you. as you rode the elevator down, you couldn't help but notice how he sort of shrunk in on himself as if he was trying to take up as little space as possible — as if that was even possible. he was massive. he avoided your gaze in a way that was shy instead of suspicious.

it was kind of...cute.

when you both got off the elevator, the lobby, you took a deep breath and stopped him, asking as confidently as you could if you could have his number. his eyes had widened but he surprisingly didn't say no — jackpot!

tho you couldn't see all of his face — the bottom half of it covered by a mask and his large hood concealing his hair, you felt a bit of an attraction to him.

as you walked out, hastily typing his number into your phone as you parted ways, you realized you may have a thing for masked man since this man — könig, he had said with an accent, and the ass that was simon both wore masks.

in between the time of The Simon Cycle, you went on a couple dates with könig. he was charming and sweet, if not a little shy. he was clumsy and almost always bumped his head on doorways before shamefully rubbing the spot he bumped with a look of embarrassment in his eyes.

he was excitable and energetic. he loved animals and always pointed out whatever animals he saw while walking with you — people walking dogs, cats in windows, ducks floating on ponds.

the more time you spent with him, the more you forgot about simon.

until his name popped up on your phone one evening when you were spending an evening in with könig. it was nothing crazy, he wanted to watch his favorite horror movie with you (an ancient black and white).

könig caught sight of your frown as your phone rang, catching sight of the name 'simon' with a blank picture.

"who is this?" he had asked, tho it wasn't out of jealousy, just pure concern and interest.

you let out a sigh, "i dated him....sort of...? not really..." you had responded, earning a confused look from him.

you explained everything to him, from meeting simon all the through his on and off behavior. by the end könig looked upset on your behalf, shaking his head.

"if he cannot decide if he wants you, then he should leave you alone," he said softly, smiling under his mask with a crinkle of his eyes, "that way someone who knows that they want you can move in!"

that was one thing you liked about könig, he was actually open to communicate his thoughts and feelings with you. he told you were pretty, how he liked your laugh, how much he enjoyed your company and was excited to see you again when you both had time.

simon was closed off. he was quiet, mostly listening rather than talking. but he listened well. you remember mentioning that you broke your lamp and had bought a new one but couldn't figure out how to set it up. a week later, after a nice evening spent in bed together, you woke up to find him sitting on your living room floor putting together that lamp for you.

even though könig was...lovely. there was something about simon that was so intoxicating that you couldn't seem to let it go. but also the sex with simon was....spectacular. you never had a man so eager to make you cum until you were incoherent — never had a man who could.

and könig was....traditional. slow. he wanted to date for a long time before jumping into bed. he wanted to properly court you and go through a whole process. which you respected but...you were impatient. greedy.

it wasn't like könig was against you seeing simon. he had told you that you were free to do what you wished, but unless you made it official with the other man he was not going to back down from trying to court you.

so when simon called on you again a couple nights later, you answered.

he was glaring when he opened the door for you, motioning for you to enter before shutting and locking the door.

"why didn't you answer?" he grilled. clearly you ignoring his call when you were with könig annoyed him more than you thought.

you raised an eyebrow before slowly answering, "i was on a date, simon."

that seemed to make him freeze where he stood, eyes narrowing even more into a glare.

"a date?" he spat, "with who? you don't need to go on any dates, you're with me."

that made you roll your eyes so hard it nearly gave you a headache, "a nice guy named könig. simon, i'm not even sure you like me beyond wanting sex. i want a boyfriend." you huffed, "and clearly you don't want that!"

"oh yeah? then why are you here instead of with your boyfriend?" he hissed the last word in disgust.

"we're not official. he hasn't asked but we've been...seeing each other." you decided simply.

at that, simon jerked his mask over his mouth to kiss you in that heated way that made your legs tremble, "does he fuck you as good as i do? hm?"

that got your attention, a sly smile coming to your lips as he worked you out of your clothes.

he was jealous. this revelation was exhilarating to you. simon, the guy who acted like he couldn't care less about you, was actually jealous that you were seeing another guy!

the sex that night was as phenomenal as usual and more. he spent a good half of it with his head between your thighs, pinning you down with strength alone as he ate you to orgasm after orgasm until your cum was a sticky, stringy mess on his lips and chin.

then he worked you to two more orgasms on his cock, the last one he hadn't even needed to touch your clit before you were creaming around him with a sweet little squeal.

simon had a point to prove. you were his and he was not going to lose you to some asshole. deep down, he knew he didn't deserve you and that he should let the better man have you but he just couldn't. he needed you. he wanted you. he was selfish and greedy.

simon disappeared after that. but for once had actually communicated what was going on — deployment, he said. didn't know how long he would be gone. he had actually gave you a goodbye kiss that left you spinning.

the next time you saw simon, you were on a date with könig. it was a quaint little bar that könig said he liked. so there you were, sitting across from him at a booth, nursing a drink and softly talking with one another.

you didn't even know simon was back. he hadn't said anything. when he walked into the bar, his eyes scanned the place like they always did before landing on you.

his gaze lit up as he took a step towards you but quickly halted when he saw you were sitting across from another man. but that didn't stop him for long.

you cursed under your breath, catching könig's attention before simon was right there at the end of the table, glaring at könig.

"can we help you...?" könig asked softly, clearly a little nervous.

"hi...simon..." you sighed softly. könig straightened up in his seat at that.

"official yet?" he asked you, ignoring your greeting.

you gritted your teeth, casting a glance towards könig who looked confused.

"no." you answered simply.

with that simon, yanked a chair from a nearby table and sat right at the end of your table. you concealed a groan of despair.

simons glare fixed upon könig, a challenge clear in his stare alone. he reached forward and grabbed your drink from your hand despite your protest, lifting his mask enough to take a sip, the cocky smirk visible briefly on his lips.

könig quickly understood what was going on and his own eyes narrowed into a glare. you could practically see the sparks going off between them and buried your face in your hands.

it was going to be....a painfully long night, you feared.

[ascesabo]

i love when tropes subvert expectations because they could have made the pirate king's son some douchebag antagonist or an obstacle to luffy's dream but instead we were given an older brother with so much love it still looms large even two years after his death. ace was born into a world that scorned him for existing, and still he found an endless reserve of unconditional love for luffy, enough for him to put his anger aside and raise this scruffy boy on his own. his father being the pirate king has been a thorn in his side for as long as he's been alive, yet he didn't hate luffy for making it his goal; instead, he went around showing off luffy's wanted poster and telling anyone who crossed his path that his little brother was going to become the king of the pirates.

and then he died with the sole regret of not being able to see luffy reach his goal, but he died happy to know that he was loved; that even if it changed nothing and didn't save him it was there. he got to die in the arms of the person who loved him the most, got to spend his final breaths thanking him for all the love they shared in the short time they were given together, and i think it's just so incredibly sweet and heartbreaking that of all the paths ace's character could have gone down, they chose one that had love at the center of it all.

[wakeup01]

buttslut

If you had asked Dante whether he would ever bottom, 1, he would probably punch you. And 2, he would insist that topping gays was just something 100% straight men like him did. And he’d say it with…well, with a ‘straight’ face. It was a display of superiority and power, an act to show people their place. He wouldn’t be seen dead bent over, presenting his rear. The mere idea disgusted him, a fact he made very clear when loudly talking to his recently made friend, Cris, inside the local inclusive night club.

An unlikely friendship that only came about from bumping into each other while Dante was taking selfies in the college bathrooms. Something of a regular past time, as Cris quickly learned. Even in a public place, Dante didn’t miss the opportunity to admire his own body, smirking as several gay guys around him turned to get a glimpse. Maybe that was the only real reason he agreed to come along. Then again, he was capable of being kindhearted, in his own special way.

“You see those pathetic ‘guys’ earlier? Practically begging to be shown what a real man can do.” Dante commented, chugging down the rest of his beer. Blatantly ignoring the warning hanging on the wall which stated ‘discrimination will not be tolerated’. Yes. Kind. In his *own* special way. “You get me?”

“Uh huh...” Cris sheepishly replied, trying to hold back a wince. Looking down with disappointment, his eyes tearing up slightly. Now definitely wasn’t a good time to reveal that he was actually trans. Maybe when the sun was about to implode, yes, that seemed like a more appropriate occasion.

Dante was a somewhat typical douchebag jock in most respects, keen to display his dominance and superior body to anyone with a hole to fill. A fuckstick with a guy - rather inconveniently, attached. Dante pushed out his perfectly sculpted chest and flexed his rippling muscles while he made his openly deriding remarks as a group passed him by. Deliberately yelling over the obnoxious club song that was blaring overhead. Cris merely laughed nervously, ashamed to admit his infatuation with Dante’s body - adjusting his trousers as his dick unconsciously rose to attention at Dante’s confident voice.

“Christ, your drink looks kinda fruity. You should try some of mine.” He lifts a glass and holds it out.

“Maybe later, do you want to go dance? I kinda dig this Charli…song.” Cris’ voice peters out at the expression shot in their direction. “Maybe not, huh.”

Unfortunately for Dante, the patrons and staff weren’t too keen on his ‘colourful’ choice of words, especially when starting to talk about ‘butt sluts’, as he put it. A bit of glitter blown in his direction was all that was needed to kickstart a change in perspective. Cris watched with wide eyes as he witnessed his toxic crush’s language and demeanour gradually adjust in front of him.

Dante attempted to brush away the glitter that somwhow got all over him. “The fu—fudge is this gay shi—shizzle!” Instead he only managed to spread it everywhere, speeding up the adjustments. Dante took another sip of beer and scrunched his nose up at the taste, pushing the drink aside. His stiff and once proud stature grew limp, hips swaying to the rhythm of the club music. The plethora of swears and insults softened into a series of enthusiastic lisps and giggles. His deep voice changing pitch one word at a time. “This soOOoong s—slaps, like, a totes banger!” Dante shouts out, to his friends amusement.

“But I thought you hated this—“

“Uhhhh, as if!” Dante’s whiney intonation quickly interjects, somewhat unbefitting of the muscled body it came from, his defined pecs still pushing out against the thin fabric of his tank top.

A warm insatiable itch caused Dante to absently remove his top and shorts, revealing a jockstrap cupping his bubbly rear - which quickly doubled in mass as it comically splayed out beneath him. A result of the rainbow glitter sticking to his sweaty body. The rest of him remained built like a tank, wide shoulders and thick thighs. A meaty chest glistening under the flickering lights of the club. He was so hot, but not just in appearance. The drunken stupor had fully gripped his easily manipulated mind. Everything around him suddenly seemed soo funny.

“Gawd, my butt’s, like, pretty big. Weird. Heehee.” Dante points out, turning slightly to show Cris, causing his cheeks to wobble. “Do girls even want big butts on guys?”

“Well…I…” Cris stammers, blushing bright red at the image of his ultra masculine friend shaking his butt while effeminately biting his lip.

“Like suuuper big and…” Internally Dante was unaware of his out of character behaviour, unquestioning as his brutish dominance was purged, replaced by adorably bratty submissiveness. He was the same old Dante deep down, just…happier. And sluttier. His body unconsciously began to gyrate to the heavy bass throbbing in his head. All he noticed was the growing need centred around his tight hole. His fingers cautiously touched the jiggly mound of flesh weighing him down from behind. Dante’s eyes filled with lust as he stared at his friend Cris, noting the sight of him and all the other hot men around him. A pleasurable sigh escapes his pursed lips.

“Big and…empty.”

A couple minutes of character growth later, members of staff arrived to offer Dante ‘vip status’ at the club. A program they had setup to deal with any ‘troublemakers’. Dante didn’t mind however, and agreed instantly. Cris followed as he got directed out the back door towards his new station, taking his position as a public relief hole. Leaning against the wall as the cool night air brushed against his bare skin. All the while he was incapable of keeping his hands off his rear, feeling it up without a second thought as onlookers watched. Dante simply nodded along dimly while the club’s manager explained that he was about to be fucked and used repeatedly to atone for his remarks. That once he has filled his quota, he and his twerkable bubble butt would become the club’s next permanent dancer.

Dante smiles and says “mmkay” while pushing his hands against the wall and widening his legs - staring blankly ahead. “Like this?” There was a little sign above his head that simply read ‘hole’ with an arrow pointing down. Just in case it wasn’t clear.

Cris made sure he was first in line to try out the new resident ‘butt slut’. He positions himself behind Dante, and struggles to hold back a laugh at the sight of the once bigoted jock willingly preparing to get dicked. He definitely liked him a lot more like this - the same muscled physique, but without the crude superiority complex. Their friendship was sure to hit new heights.

“Ready? Let me show you what a ‘real man’ can do.” Cris says with a newfound sense of confidence. Playfully, he spins Dante’s baseball cap around and places his hands across the himbo’s rear, parting his huge round cheeks to show off the cherry he was about to pop - before the rest of the club would inevitably leave him gaping.

“Mm.” Is all Dante can muster before Cris’s cock forcefully stretches him open and leaves him moaning like the natural cock hungry bottom he now was. “Don’t—don’t stawwwp babe!”

[casuallyanidiot]

Imagine...

Your stalker was devastated when you began to date your boyfriend, It wasn't fair! He was supposed to be the one you peppered with kisses, the one who you went home to at the end of the day. He put in the work! Not this douchebag, two faced asshole who glared at not only him, but anyone else who you took a kind shine to.

You were being deceived, and you didn't even know it yet! He was going to help you, rescue from what you obviously didn't know was a bad relationship...

At least, he would've, but instead he was staring at your unmarked grave. His eyes were bleak as a fine mist rolled over the forest floor. Your boyfriend was so stupid. How could he snuff out your life like that? He curled his hands into fists. Did that piece of shit know how much he needed you. How much he would've given just to have you? He wouldn't have done this.

No, no you deserved something better. A locked room. A secure cabin far far away. Anything but this.

It didn't matter though, he thinks as he plunges a shovel into the soft earth. It doesn't matter because he would do anything to have your smile back where it belongs: safe in his watching eyes.

[purplecoffee13]

A Bit Jealous*

Summary: “Harry is a frat boy and a douchebag who pushes your every last button, but you hate that he’s talking to another girl.”

Wc: 1.8k

Tropes: fratboy!harry

Warnings: SMUT, praise kink, jealousy and a bit of possessiveness

A/N: hey guys! Sorry for being so MIA the past weeks, I really couldn’t get myself to write for some reason. I still have some difficulty with it, but I did cook this little blurb up for y’all. Hope you like it! All the love xxx

General Masterlist

Blurb Masterlist

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

You groan in frustration at Harry's words, pushing him onto his bed before straddling him. "Shut up."

Harry doesn't protest as you occupy his mouth with yours, tongues dancing around each other with a passion that makes it seem like it's the first time. It's not; you've been hooking up for the past three months.

You hated Harry— you still do. You didn't like him and his frat bros walking around campus like they owned the damn place. But after a bad break-up and one too many tequila shots, you ended up in Harry Styles' bed anyway.

You could've shot yourself for your own stupidity, but you didn't. Sleeping with Harry became a habit instead. A past time, you told yourself, to hold you over until someone new came along. But three months have gone by, and there has yet to be someone new.

Harry had wanted you from the first time he saw you. If not for your killer looks and pretty smile, then for your hatred towards him. He'd always liked girls with a temper, and whenever he'd see you around, a part of him would hope that you'd re-direct your hatred and just give him a chance. Just to sleep with, of course. He didn't want a relationship.

"Thought you said Saturday was the 'last time'." Harry taunts you with your own empty promises in between kisses. It's true, you did say that last weekend. Harry has been a bad habit that you need to quit, but any time you try your willpower just isn't strong enough.

"I changed my mind." You respond, putting his cap on your head and taking his shirt off. Harry smirks at the sight of you. He always thinks you look quite cute in anything that belongs to him.

"Of course you did." He flips you over. You let out a yelp as you are being turned onto your back. Harry leans back and pushes your skirt up, leaving you in nothing but your skimpy panties that reveal your excitement by the apparent wet patch on them. "Let me catch up then, yeah?"

"Yes— oh my... fuck!" The air is knocked out of your chest as Harry dives his face right into your pussy. Your hands fly to his hair for some kind of control and your legs close up with each lick that makes you shudder. When your back arches in response to his assault on your clit, Harry takes his focus off of you for a second.

"Stay still," He growls, pushing your thighs away. "and spread your fucking legs."

It is hard to follow his orders perfectly, mainly because of the drinks you have had, but you stay relatively still as Harry continues to eat you out. You have to refrain your eyes from rolling to the back of your skull at the way he sucks your clit. His hands stay on your thighs, massaging them as he works you towards the prospect of a climax. The rumbling of the house party going on downstairs puts a thought inside your head.

"Did you lock your door?" You ask breathily, waiting on a verbal answer. You look over at Harry, but he doesn't pause. Instead, his face stays buried inside you as he shakes his head, and you let out a whimper that is too desperate for someone who claimed last week was the last time you ever wanted to sleep with this guy.

It seems to motivate Harry, as he only speeds his movements. Your breathing starts to get more erratic, and you are once again squirming for an escape. It is like your body knows this orgasm is going to be very intense.

And your body was right. You come hard, explosively even, falling apart under him with a cry of his name. Ever the gentleman, he helps you ride out your high before he finally comes up for air.

"Shit..." you pant, watching Harry move until he's laying next to you. You turn your head to him, unable to keep yourself from smiling at the stupid grin on his face. He is always so proud about making you come.

"You were jealous." He says, and your joy falters at his words.

"What are you talking about?" You scoff, frowning at his words. You roll your eyes for extra measure, but it doesn't seem to convince him.

"That's why you pulled me upstairs, didn't you?" He asks again, and when you sigh, the grin on his face only spreads wider.

"Admit it! You were jealous I was talking to Gigi."

"Maybe I was." You shrug.

"Don't deny it, you— wait what?"

You reach for his pants unzipping them as you sit more upright. Harry follows your movements, staring at you wide-eyed as he observes you.

"Maybe I was a bit jealous. Maybe I don't really like the idea of you fucking someone else." You tell him, a sultry voice coating your words as you take his cock out of his pants. You push him further against the bed, positioning him so he is now sitting against the headboard.

"Maybe..." you trail off, letting his tip trace over your entrance. Harry gasps in anticipation, thoughts too blurred and too curious to see what you're going to say and do. "I don't like the prospect of sharing you. Of not having you fuck me raw anymore."

With that said, you sink yourself down on Harry's cock, hands resting on his shoulders for steadiness. He grumbles out a few profanities, his head shooting back and eyes shut tightly

"Wouldn't you hate that? It feels too good like this, doesn't it?" You rasp in his ear, slowly beginning to bounce up and down his cock. Harry lets out a moan—something he doesn't do often—grabbing onto your hips as he watches his cock disappear in you repeatedly. His eyes trail up to your concentrated face; jaw slack and small 'uh's leaving your plump lips.

Your tits bounce slightly, still restrained by one of those corset tops you often wear when going out. It drives him crazy, those tops. The way your breasts spill out of them a little bit, but enough to leave the rest to the imagination. And God does he imagine things when you wear those types of tops...

He peels his eyes open, takes in the sight of you, and lifts his hands from your waist to undo your top. He easily pulls down the zipper in the back, and before you know it, your bare chest is being massaged by Harry's hand. He bites his lip as he plays with your nipples, reveling in the way you whimper at the sensitive touch.

Your hips move rhythmically, driving Harry's cock in and out of you at a pace that is making the both of you dizzy.

"Fuck, I didn't know jealousy could look so pretty." Harry rasps, his eyes locking with yours. The corner of his mouth tugs up at your inability to handle that compliment. You've never really known what to say when he's being nice to you for a change, and the asshole likes to fluster you. It's why he even compliments you in the first place, you are certain of it. "But here you are... riding yourself on my cock because you hate to see me talking to another girl."

"Shut up." You frown, closing your eyes at the increasing bubble in your stomach that you feel is about to explode sooner rather than later. You change the angle in which you move your hips a little bit, allowing Harry's cock to hit a particularly sweet spot.

"So possessive..." He challenges you some more, and you put your hand over his mouth as a response.

All of a sudden, you are being flipped onto your back, Harry now hovering above you. You whine at the change of position, not yet having been done with that one certain angle yet. Like he can read your mind, Harry assures you,

"I'll get deep in there, baby, don't worry."

The words and the caring tone in which they are spoken causes for a fire to erupt in your tummy. Doe-eyed, you stare at Harry, silently complying as he throws your legs over his shoulders. When he thrusts his hips forward and drives deep, way deeper into you, a small scream leaves you before you can stop yourself.

Harry is quick to place his hand across your mouth as he begins fucks you with slow, deep thrusts. Tears stream down the side of your face as Harry hits your spot over and over again, each time feeling more euphoric than the last, and each one brining you closer to an orgasm.

With the way you grip his hand tighter with every passing second, Harry knows that you are very close.

"Are you close, baby? Gonna come again?" He asks, a wave of satisfaction filling his veins when you nod frantically, all sorts of noises leaving the mouth muffled by his big hand. Your eyes roll into the back of your head when Harry starts slowly circling your clit, the pleasure becoming too much to handle.

"C'mon baby, you can come again for me. Just for me." He says softly, leaning in closer so there is nothing to do but get lost in his pretty eyes. "You're mine to fuck, and I'm yours, hmm? Does that sound good to you?"

A muffled 'yes' is the only comprehensible word that leaves your mouth as you finally explode. Head tilted backwards, you let your orgasm wash over you like a tidal wave that is so strong that the only option is to let it consume you, and just go with it. The traces of Harry's fingers on your skin elongate the ecstatic feeling in your body, and even as your body moves along with the aftershocks of your orgasm, you fear you have never felt so high before.

Your climax triggers Harry's. The way you are pulsing around him proves too much and it shows in the erratic thrusts and unstable breathing pattern that manifest in desperate pants. You try to fixate your eyes on the way he crumbles above you, the knowledge that his sperm is coating your walls filling you with a moronic amount of pride.

Slowly, Harry stills inside of you. You're still a bit in awe of that element he seemed to be in just now. It looked so fucking sexy and the image of it seems to be burned into your brain forever now. Harry lifts his head, the signature arrogant smirk back on face, a quiet laugh sounding from the back of his throat.

"You should get jealous more often."

You hit him in the head with the pillow next to you.

[fairlyang]

mystery girl 🕷️

w/c: 2.2K

pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. pure filth, desperate to be fucked, amazing friend shows you the way, male glory hole, choosing the thick one, age gap (20’s & 30’s), sucking dick, save a horse ride a cowboy (kinda)

a/n: bro it’s been a month since I had this idea but I was so preoccupied with the other 183749272 of my wips she was left behind🥲 but alas the reverse rookie finally (i was gonna write abt clothes but it flew past me- I was imagining a dress!)

part 1.2 — part 1.3

you were growing tired of the endless swiping on tinder and absolute douchebags you stumbled across, all that just to find someone for a small fling was way too much

at that point you’d have better luck finding someone at a bar but you also weren’t in the mood to converse with someone, especially whilst ovulating when you just needed to pounce on someone, no questions asked

so when complaining to your friends about your hungry need but lack of sex, they told you to go to a nearby sex toy store because they had gloryholes in the back. you were so stunned to even say anything because you couldn’t believe something like that even existed, let alone so close to you

one of them even offered to go with you that same night because you were already squeezing your thighs together in desperation and so you wouldn’t feel so nervous. you said yes of course and that was when she told you they also had an adult theater and you nearly fell off the couch

after a short drive of five minutes tops, you had arrived and you thought maybe you’d look around or something but nope your friend just grabbed your hand and went straight to the back. she waved at the cashier and gave him a smile, “hey al, is it busy tonight?”

al shrugged then nodded and she gave him a thumbs up before dragging you past the door and taking a right turn. “he doesn’t look like he’s meant to work here of all places.” you joke and she laughs

the man had two long braids, a tie dye shirt and what looked to be camo shorts with sandals. just absolutely random but she waved you off

“al’s cool, this is his part time-“ she utters, making you snicker

“fucked him too huh?” you tease making her roll her eyes

“and what about it?” she says playfully earning herself an eye roll

she led you the whole way through now taking a left and entering the first door, loud moans immediately being heard

“these over here are straight men and the others are gay men.” she explains and points to each section

you both walk over to the left side to where the straight guys would be and it was better quality than expected

instead of it being literal holes on walls it had a fancier getup, the men’s torsos were sticking out of a hole while laying down on some sort of table and their upper half was hidden behind black fabric. they all had pictures above their hole with a picture of their faces and their ages

“this is insane.” you mutter and she excitedly nods

“go have your pick! and don’t be afraid to be picky, choose what you need girl.” she says making you roll your eyes

she says that when there’s only two available guys anyway. There were three other guys with girls on top of them, riding away and letting out the craziest of moans

so you walk directly to the first available guy and look at his picture. a cute white guy, looked mature, thirty three years old and his name was Peter

he must’ve sensed your presence because his cock twitched. he was very long but not so thick

you preferred the girth so you went on to the one next to him and your eyes nearly fell out of their sockets

this one was fucking long and thick. so fucking thick you thought it’d be impossible to fit inside you

but anything was possible

so you looked at his picture and were pleasantly surprised to find a latino, not only that but a fine one. he was thirty four years old and his name was Miguel

how the hell both of these man were in here is beyond you but you’re so feeling so fucking lucky because Miguel’s cock was exactly what you’ve been needing

you just want to be filled to the absolute brim, feel a cock stretch you out as if it were the first time

so you climbed onto the table and Miguel’s cock also twitched out of excitement. meanwhile your friend jumped on top of Peter and was already positioning his cock to her entrance

crazy girl

you were wet but you felt like you had to be fucking drenched to be able to take him all so you scoot down his body and taking a hold of his cock. you kitten licked the tip causing for precum to leak immediately, poor guy must’ve been waiting a while..

you decide to not waste anymore time, for both your sakes and spit on it, letting it dribble down his length before stroking him with both hands. you were nearly drooling just looking at it but you couldn’t really be blamed

miguel was already moaning mainly because the girls were looking past him because he was just too thick and they couldn’t handle it. so he had to give props to his mystery girl that was hopefully going to give him a proper shot

he was already cheered up just by you knowing what you were doing. if this was all he was gonna get he’d be content with it

but you didn’t come here to please a man, that’s never top priority, top priority is taking care of yourself. though hearing his moans were just slightly changing your mind on that, you were already starting to drip through your panties

maybe it was the fact that you were only stroking him and he was moaning for you just from that, or maybe because he was a hot older man and you never had the confidence to go for men like him

definitely the latter

you figured it was enough teasing and started to take him in your mouth, or at least tried to because it was much more than you were expecting

for now you were able to take a little bit past his tip, which wasn’t too bad considering you hadn’t sucked a dick this thick and his groans weren’t exactly saying you’re doing a bad job so you continued

you started to stroke him as you tried to take more of him then pull back and going back for more. this only had him trying his hardest to not push his hips up

you bobbed your head back and forth, now able to take half of it which was for sure an accomplishment. you only prayed your pussy could do the same

he continued with his melody of grunts and groans, then some praises came along

“fuck just like that baby.”

“taking this cock so well.”

“such a good fucking girl.”

as soon as the first praise left his lips you started going faster, hearing the other two only left you moaning against him

he groaned and subconsciously lifted his hips up making you take nearly all of it

you closed your eyes and started to go lower, stroking the last bit that you couldn’t fit

you swirled your tongue against his underside as you bopped your head up and down faster resulting in him moaning even louder

at this point you were absolutely drenched and you could feel him twitch in your mouth so you fully pulled away

he thought that was it so he was preparing himself for the worst while you sat up and climbed on top of his lap, hovering over his dick as you pulled your dress up and slid your panties to the side

you lowered yourself down, grabbing his dick, and positioning it to your entrance

first you swirled the tip against your folds, just so your wetness can act as lube because you’ll need it

you then decided to grind against the entire length and it felt so amazing

you moaned and shivered as he brought a hand out just to put it on your hip, lightly squeezing the skin

finally it was time and you prayed for the best

you straightened his cock and positioned it to your entrance again, except this time you slowly were moving down. his tip alone was a painful stretch so you just stayed there biting your lip until the pain went away

it took a few more minutes before you moved down the tiniest bit. he was so much thicker than you antipciated. you thought your toys would’ve prepared you but they were to no luck helpful

you took a deep breath then let it out before going down a little more, probably not even at the half way point yet

it was starting to feel better so you brought yourself up then went down to where you could take it. you sighed after doing it again, now feeling a mix of pain and pleasure but mostly ignoring the pain

you took a good two inches when you finally felt comfortable so you went even lower, finally hitting the hallway point. “you’re doing so good baby.” he murmured, fighting back the urge to cum right then and there

you clenched against him making you both moan which was a good sign

you decided enough was enough and slammed down, whimpers escaping your lips as Miguel moaned in bliss

his hand rubbed your thigh softly as you slowly come up then slam down again. “Fuck-!“

it was now fully pleasure and you could feel him fill you entirely. his cock felt perfect inside you and you should’ve complained about your sex life sooner

you lower your body down, arching your back as you move your ass up and down. you closed your eyes and moaned every time you went all the way down

his tip was nearly grazing your sweet spot and if you went any faster both of you would be goners

but for now you took your time. it was so sensual as well as hot. Miguel had his arms behind his head just wishing he could see you. he also wanted to kiss you as he pounded into you so he could feel you moan in his mouth but it was a glory hole for a reason

you finally started moving a bit faster now, your ass smacking against his thighs each time you came down. the sounds were driving him insane

you sounded so wet and your voice was so angelic. every noise you made had him wanting to hear more of you

so he did the logical thing to be able to do that and thrusted his hips against you, taking you by surprise. he wanted to be selfish, he’s been dying to cum and you’re the first girl who dared to try his cock out today so he started to thrust his hips upwards.

he was now pounding into you as you held your position because there was no point in moving now. he groaned as he started going faster and harder, you just felt so fucking good he couldn’t help himself

he needed to have all of you so bad

he was going at such a brutal pace you thought he was going to fully come out of the hole just to fuck you properly but he didn’t

instead he took his other hand out, stopping for a solid second just to bring your ass down and wrapping his arms around you. he held on tightly and before you could object, he went back to pounding into you, no point in waiting so he went at the exact same pace again

you moaned out as he fucked you harder, the sounds from your corner being the loudest out of the whole room but you didn’t care. the sexiest man you’ve ever laid your eyes on was fucking you as if you were his to take and you weren’t going to stop him

you’ve been so desperate for a hookup like this you should’ve known to look for the older men over guys your age. of fucking course a thirty year old was gonna know what to do over someone in their twenties

you were already thinking far ahead to think any time you’re horny to just drop by since it was so close and just let him fuck you however he wants in the adult theater

but the current moment was perfect too

he was mumbling dirty nothings as he mercilessly pounded into you, feeling that familiar feeling in his abdomen already. it wasn’t his fault you had such a tight pussy that must’ve been made just for him. like a missing puzzle piece

he was a groaning mess and you could just tell that you were creaming on his dick because of how wet it sounded. “fuck please don’t stop-“

his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his grip on you loosened. he changed to now doing deeper thrusts which was a perfect switch because he was hitting your g spot with every thrust and you were feeling so close to your orgasm

you tightened around him which only made him go even faster as you both moaned for one another. that did it for him and he came inside you. you whimpered and brought your body back up just for your orgasm to hit you hard and lift your hips up as he filled you completely

your heart was racing, your body was shaking, and you just closed your eyes to calm yourself down while still having him inside you

he pumped you full and you couldn’t even be bothered to complain or fight him on it. it’s what you fucking craved and deserved so maybe you gotta thank him instead

next part

[transform4u]

"Jerk"-ing Off

Elliot, a 38-year-old with a steadfast commitment to making a difference, has transitioned from a theatre major with Broadway aspirations to a dedicated lawyer. His days are spent navigating complex legal battles and championing causes close to his heart. Although his acting career is behind him, the creative spark from his theatre background continues to influence his approach to law and advocacy.

With his strikingly handsome features and sharp sense of style, Elliot has swapped the charisma of an actor for the precision of a lawyer. His square jaw and piercing blue eyes certainly draw attention, but it's his intellect and unwavering commitment to justice that truly define him. He has risen through the ranks of a prestigious law firm, specializing in cases against large corporations that exploit workers and damage the environment. From fighting for fair wages for underpaid employees to challenging unethical business practices, Elliot is relentless in his pursuit of justice for the little guy.

Despite the demands of his career, Elliot finds solace and excitement in his pro bono work. Whether defending a non-profit facing a lawsuit or advocating for environmental protection, he remains deeply connected to his values.

On weekends, Elliot blends relaxation with social engagement. He and his friends gather at his stylish apartment to enjoy craft cocktails and watch the latest season of Drag Race. Although he's not always up-to-date with the latest music trends, he finds motivation and energy in the classics.

One Friday evening, as Elliot works late on a case, the ping of an incoming email startles him. With a sigh of frustration, he mutters, "Christ, I can't deal with this. It's Friday—I want to hit the bars and relax."

Elliot, who had just celebrated his recent promotion, sits at his sleek, modern desk, still basking in the triumph over his coworker, Dahlia Voss. The promotion had come as a result of his quick wit and effortless charm, qualities that Dahlia had always resented. Unknown to Elliot, Dahlia harbored a deep-seated grudge and came from a long line of witches with formidable powers.

As he reviews his emails, Elliot notices one from Dahlia titled "ATTN: URGENT FROM DAHLIA, NEED TO STRAIGHT OUT ISSUE." Puzzled by the vague subject line, he clicks to open it. Suddenly, his laptop screen flickers erratically. The once smooth interface is now a chaotic swirl of error codes and cryptic messages: “SYSTEM MALFUNCTION,” “UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED,” “CRITICAL ERROR: INSUFFICIENT PERMISSIONS.”

cast_spell(name, trait): spellbook = { 'cheerful': 'rude', 'timid': 'asshole', 'gay': 'straight', 'reserved': 'douchebag'

“ERROR: SYSTEM MALFUNCTION,” “WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS,” “CRITICAL FAILURE: DATA CORRUPTION,” “ALERT: INTRUSION DETECTED - SECURITY BREACH”

A jolt of electricity courses through Elliot's body as his laptop emits a high-pitched whine before shutting down abruptly. He feels a sharp shock, and a wave of disorientation washes over him. At that moment, his phone buzzes with a text inviting him to after-hours drinks with friends.

His head begins to feel strange, as if it’s being enveloped in a slow, creeping fog. Thoughts and memories start to twist and turn uncontrollably in his mind. His once-clear recollections of high-profile cases and law school lectures blur and fade away. Instead, his brain fills with the distant, raucous cheers of a football game, the thudding of bodies wrestling, and the sweaty, intense faces of men in athletic struggle.

The noise crescendos in his mind as he struggles to piece together his identity. The cheers and grunts of a football game blend with the visceral, primal sounds of wrestling matches. Sweat and exertion fill his thoughts, displacing his professional ambitions with a foggy, chaotic blend of sports and physical combat. A text message pings "Meet us at the bar, now!"

He stumbles toward the elevator, disoriented and heavy-limbed. His usual grace is replaced by a deep grunt of frustration as he presses the down button with a sense of growing urgency. The memories of his career and his aspirations dissolve, leaving only the raw, physical sensations of the moment.

As Elliot descends in the elevator, the transformation unfolds with a riveting intensity. His face, once marked by the subtle creases of age and the weight of experience, starts to smoothen like a sculptor's marble. The fine lines and traces of stress vanish, replaced by a strikingly chiseled visage. His boyish charm fades, giving way to a more rugged, angular allure that demands both awe and respect. His hair, previously a paragon of slicked-back sophistication, begins to dissolve into a casual, faded undercut. The meticulous grooming that once spoke of refined elegance yields to a less polished but deliberately styled fade, embodying a new, relaxed defiance.

The metamorphosis of his facial features is nothing short of breathtaking: his jawline, once defined by subtle strength, becomes a bold, commanding presence. The contours sharpen into a formidable edge, accentuated by a pronounced cleft in his chin that adds a raw, magnetic force to his profile. His bright blue eyes, once warm and engaging, narrow into a self-assured squint. The charismatic gleam now shifts to a smug, condescending glint, reflecting an unshakable sense of superiority. His eyebrows, once simply well-groomed, transform into thick, expressive arches that cast a skeptical, judgmental shadow over his gaze, enhancing his air of disdain.

Elliot's mind drifts through the haze of transformation, and a poignant memory surfaces. He recalls a passionate monologue he delivered on the rights of gay business owners—his voice fervent and impassioned, each word carefully chosen to convey his deep conviction. The memory is vivid: he stands before an audience, his expression intense, his gestures animated as he argues for equality and respect with an unwavering commitment.

But as the elevator descends further, that memories in his mind begin to blur. The fervent words and righteous passion gradually fade, replaced by simpler, more visceral experiences. The scene shifts to one of indulgence: Elliot is surrounded by friends at a lively sports bar, his hands gripping a cold beer. The atmosphere is loud, filled with the clamor of cheering fans and the clinking of glasses. His focus is on the game, his conversation peppered with jokes and banter, the tension of advocacy replaced by the ease of casual enjoyment.

His nose, once understated, reshapes into a larger, slightly hooked form, perfectly complementing the new strength of his jawline. The well-defined features now project a dominant, imposing presence that demands attention. His mouth curls into a smug grin, radiating a newfound air of superiority. The bright, white teeth remain perfectly aligned, but they now underscore his casual arrogance, turning each smile into a declaration of his elevated status.

The shift is mirrored in his clothing as well: his neatly tailored work attire—once the epitome of professional elegance—disappears, replaced by loud, attention-seeking frat bro garb. His crisp dress shirt and tie vanish, giving way to a snug, brightly colored graphic t-shirt adorned with crude slogans. Tailored slacks transform into baggy cargo shorts, and polished dress shoes morph into worn-out sneakers. The overall look exudes a garish, flamboyant flair, complete with flashy accessories and a baseball cap that complete his new, ostentatious ensemble.

As the elevator doors slide open, Elliot—now a towering figure at 6'4"—lets out a loud, brash buuuuuuurp. His frame grows a bit larger and more robust, and his feet, now a daunting 13 inches, thud heavily on the floor. He steps out with a new, clumsy confidence, his posture broader and his steps more pronounced.

As Elliot steps out of the elevator, the world around him blurs, and a dense fog begins to settle over his mind. His thoughts, once sharp and discerning, start to muddle and dissipate, replaced by a growing fog of confusion. The intellectual vigor that once defined him dissolves into a dull, primitive haze. His once complex thoughts shrink into a simpler, more childish state, dominated by basic desires and impulsive whims.

With every step, Elliot feels a sneer tug at the corners of his mouth as he catches his reflection in a window pane. The face staring back at him is a stark contrast to his former self. His features have grown more juvenile, and the sharpness of his previous demeanor has softened into a simpler, almost vacuous expression. His body, once trim and well-defined, now appears pasty and weak, lacking the muscle tone and robustness he had grown accustomed to. The sight is both alien and unsettling, yet there's an odd sense of acceptance creeping in, as though his new appearance is starting to fit a simpler narrative.

Entering the bar, Elliot is immediately enveloped by the low hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. His movements are clumsy as he makes his way to the bar, where he grabs a cold beer with a sense of vague satisfaction. He drifts to an empty seat next to Dahlia, who sits with a poised elegance that starkly contrasts with Elliot’s new, awkward demeanor.

Dahlia is striking in her appearance: her auburn hair cascades in sleek waves, framing a face that is both sharply intelligent and subtly predatory. Her eyes, a dark and penetrating brown, watch Elliot with an inscrutable expression. As he sits down, she glances at him with a smirk and says, “Elliot, have you been working out?”

The question causes a deep blush to spread across Elliot’s cheeks, though it’s quickly overshadowed by a sharp pang of pain in his stomach. The pain is sudden and intense, sending a jolt of discomfort through his body. He winces, feeling as if his entire frame is being twisted by an invisible force. As he tries to shake off the discomfort, Dahlia leans closer and whispers a cryptic incantation:

“Mirror, mirror, in this light, Reflect the change within my sight. Let each encounter subtly show, Traits of the past to ebb and flow. Let them see, let them adjust, To echoes of old in ways discussed. As they speak, let change unfold, Transforming hearts with memories bold"

As she hands Elliot the drink, the pain in his body intensifies momentarily, a visceral reminder of his altered state. But then, a strange clarity begins to seep through the haze of his mind. The idea of working out, once foreign and disjointed, starts to resonate with an odd sense of understanding. It makes sense now, in a way it never did before—a new, simple logic that aligns with the primitive thoughts now swirling in his head. His body aches, but a newfound sense of purpose begins to take shape, as if the idea of physical exertion is suddenly a natural fit for his newly simplified self.

As Elliot finishes the last gulp of his drink, the rich, frothy beer swirls around his senses, sending a wave of warmth through his chest. With a deep, resonant burp that escapes him, he feels a jolt of raw, uninhibited energy. He casually begins to engage with the women around him, each conversation acting as a catalyst for further transformation.

The first woman, a vivacious redhead with an easy smile, drifts toward him, her eyes sparkling with interest. “You know,” she begins, her tone teasing, “you remind me of this guy I used to see. He was all about hitting the gym and flexing his muscles in every mirror he passed. Couldn’t get enough of himself, but he sure had a presence.”

As she speaks, Elliot’s neck begins to thicken and swell, growing into a powerful column that seamlessly transitions into broad, formidable shoulders. The deltoids swell like sculpted marble, rippling with every subtle movement, while the trapezius muscles rise in a majestic sweep. His new shoulders create a stunning silhouette, exuding a primal power that commands attention.

Another woman, a striking brunette with a no-nonsense attitude, saunters over with a glass of wine. “Oh my god, you’re totally giving me vibes of this guy I dated, always talking about his ‘swole’ arms and how he could bench press his body weight. He was like a walking billboard for gym supplements.”

As Elliot engages with her, his biceps begin to come into sharp focus. They swell into vast, commanding peaks that defy natural laws, each flex revealing a tapestry of sinew and strength. His triceps become equally impressive, forming a trio of defined heads that speak of relentless discipline. His forearms thicken and cord, veins pulsing with every beat of his heart.

A third woman, with fiery red hair and a lively spirit, sidles up next to him. “You’ve got this aura like my ex who was always bragging about his ‘chest day.’ His pecs were so grand, you’d think he’d been chiseled by a sculptor. He’d puff out his chest like he was king of the world.”

Elliot’s chest responds to her description, expanding in a display of anatomical artistry. His pectorals grow grand and expansive, pushing outward and upward in majestic waves. The separation between the upper and lower pectorals becomes as clear as a sculptor’s chisel work, forming an imposing V-shape that demands reverence.

A fourth woman, with an elegant demeanor and a hint of mystery in her eyes, approaches him. “You know, this guy I once knew had this incredible six-pack that seemed almost too perfect. He’d talk about how his abs were his ‘pride and joy.’ It’s like he had some secret to keeping them so defined.”

Elliot’s abdominal muscles respond with a powerful definition. Each segment becomes sharp and distinct, forming an impressive six-pack—or perhaps an eight-pack—that’s etched with the clarity of celestial engravings. His obliques carve out a V-shaped expanse, their definition a bold statement of core strength and stability.

As Elliot’s back grows more defined, a woman with a sultry voice and a commanding presence joins the group. “You remind me of a guy I dated whose back was like a work of art. His lats were so broad, they gave him this incredible V-shape. His shoulders and back were all about that powerful, muscular look.”

His back swells to match her description, the latissimus dorsi expanding into a dramatic V-shape that broadens his frame. The rhomboids and rear deltoids create a complex landscape of muscular peaks and valleys, each contour a testament to his dedication and hard work.

Finally, a confident woman with a warm smile and a casual demeanor takes a seat next to him. “I used to date this guy who had legs that were just massive. His quads were so defined, it was like he was built to run marathons or something. His calves were just as impressive.”

Elliot’s legs transform to match her description. The quadriceps bulge with impressive prominence, their individual heads clearly delineated with every movement. The hamstrings balance this power with their sinewy bulk, and his calves, now thick and robust, round out this vision of lower body development.

With each new encounter and description, Elliot’s body becomes a marvel of muscular excellence. His waist, though narrow compared to his robust upper body, accentuates his grandeur, while his glutes and hips provide a solid, unshakeable foundation. His entire physique, from the sweeping curves of his shoulders to the powerful bulge of his legs, embodies a profound blend of strength, dedication, and sheer, unadulterated muscle.

As Elliot surveys himself in the bar’s reflective window pane, with a final, deep buuuuuurp, he embraces his new persona, feeling the full force of his muscular form as he moves through the night.

Elliot stands confidently at the bar, chatting up a pretty brunette. She laughs at his jokes and seems to be enjoying his company. As they talk, Elliot can't help but feel a surge of pride - he knows he looks good and could easily get any guy in the room if he wanted to.

Suddenly, another girl approaches them. "Hey! You look just like my ex," she says with a sneer. "He was such a dumb homophobe! Total jerk."

Elliot's mind starts to melt as her words sink in. He can't believe she would compare him to someone so despicable - after all, he has always been an advocate for equality and tolerance throughout his life… or so he thought.

Elliot's mind reels as the girl's words cut deep. He had always prided himself on being different, on standing up for what he believed in - even if it meant going against societal norms. But now, all of that seems meaningless in the face of this girl's insult.

As she walks away from him, laughing along with her friends, Elliot feels a deep sense of betrayal. He had helped so many people throughout his life - gays included - and yet here he was being called out for something he never even thought about before tonight: his own sexuality. The memories of rooting for the little guy and supporting those who were different from him fade away into oblivion as anger takes over every fiber of his being.

Without hesitation or remorse, Elliot turns towards the group of laughing girls and launches into a lengthy rant about how much he hates fags.

"Gay people are disgusting," he continues, gesturing wildly with his hands for emphasis. "They ruin everything they touch! They should be ashamed of themselves for going against nature like that."

The rage boiling within Elliot is palpable; it feels like his entire body is on fire with anger and hatred towards gay people. He can barely contain himself as he launches into this tirade, forgetting about the girl who started it all and focusing solely on venting his pent-up frustrations onto anyone who will listen.

His voice booms through the bar as he spews venomous words about how disgusting gay people are and how they ruin everything they touch. He talks about their sinful lifestyle choices that go against nature itself.

As Elliot lingers in the dimly lit bar, the fog in his mind thickens, obscuring the remnants of his former self. His name slips from his thoughts, replaced by an overwhelming sense of self-importance and superiority. The transformation in his demeanor is palpable; his once charming, easygoing attitude has hardened into an abrasive display of arrogance and entitlement. He flexes his newly sculpted muscles with an almost comical pride, his powerful biceps and chiseled torso a constant, conspicuous exhibition of his perceived dominance.

He approaches women with a swagger that borders on obnoxious. His conversations are marked by a brazen self-assuredness, his every word dripping with the sort of superficial charm that masks a deep-seated condescension. His eyes narrow into a smug squint as he engages with each new woman, their descriptions of past boyfriends acting as catalysts for his transformation into a quintessential frat bro.

The first woman he talks to is a striking blonde with a flirtatious air. “You know,” she says with a teasing smile, “you remind me so much of this guy I dated who was all about ‘bro culture.’ He was obsessed with his gym routine and would never stop bragging about his arms and pecs and getting swole. Thought he was the king of the world.”

As she speaks, Elliot’s body undergoes a significant change. His neck, already thick and powerful, transitions seamlessly into broad shoulders that form a formidable foundation. His deltoids swell like sculpted marble, and his trapezius muscles rise in a majestic sweep. His personality shifts as well, taking on a brashness and confidence that becomes increasingly abrasive.

"That's right, beautiful," Elliot says with a smirk. "I'm all about the gains and getting swole - what can I say? It's just who I am."

He flexes his newly developed biceps for her, making sure she gets a good look at them. "And if you think these are impressive," he continues, pointing to his chest and abs, "just wait until you see the rest of me!"

A second woman, with dark, intense eyes and a straightforward demeanor, saunters over. “You’re giving me serious vibes of this guy I used to see. He was always talking about how ‘tough’ he was, how he could bench press a ton. His whole thing was being the toughest guy in the room, and he’d never let anyone forget it.”

Elliot’s biceps swell into vast, commanding peaks, and his triceps become equally impressive, forming a trio of defined heads. His forearms thicken and cord, veins bulging with each movement. His personality evolves further, his interactions marked by a superficial charm that veers into patronizing territory. He boasts about his perceived physical prowess, showing off with a dismissive air that belittles anyone who dares to challenge his views.

Next, a tall woman with a sultry voice and a sarcastic edge approaches. “Oh, you remind me of this guy who was all about showing off his chest. He’d strut around with his pectorals puffed out, always talking about his ‘chest day’ and how everyone else should just be in awe of his muscles.”

As the night wears on, Elliot’s drinking catches up with him. His initial charm starts to fade under the haze of alcohol, and he becomes increasingly boisterous. His speech grows louder and less coherent, his once-smooth demeanor now replaced with exaggerated movements and a clumsy swagger. He sways slightly as he moves, his tan and perfectly gelled hair looking more disheveled by the minute.

Spotting another woman across the room, Elliot makes his way over with a confident but unsteady gait. “Heyyy! What’s up, gorgeous?” he bellows, his voice carrying over the thumping music. “I’m Ellio---burrrp. You look like you’re having an epic time. Mind if I join you?”

The next woman, Emily, responds with a hesitant smile. “Sure, but just so you know, my last boyfriend was a real nightmare. He was always dismissing my feelings and had this insufferable attitude that made every conversation feel like an interrogation.”

“Ugh, sounds like he was a total loser,” he says, his voice dripping with dismissive disdain. “Seriously, who even treats someone like that? Must’ve been hard for you to deal with someone so self-absorbed.”

His behavior becomes more overbearing as he takes a swig from his drink, barely hiding his smirk. “You know what? It’s no wonder he was a nightmare. He probably couldn’t handle someone with real personality. I bet he was just jealous of you. I mean, who wouldn’t be? You’re fucking hot, those tits are primo"

Leaning in closer with a swagger that reeks of entitlement, Elliot continues, “But you’re with me now, so you don’t have to worry about those kinds of guys. I’m not just any guy—I’m a total catch. I mean, look at me! Perfect tan, chiseled abs, and I’m living the high life. I can’t imagine why anyone would act like that when they could be with someone as amazing as me.”

As Elliot moves on to the next woman, Lauren, his approach becomes more animated. “Hey, I couldn’t help but notice your vibe. Want to grab a drink with me?” he asks with a broad grin, his casual demeanor now mixed with a bit more enthusiasm.

Lauren’s expression tightens. “My ex was such a jerk. He was obsessed with himself, always talking about his achievements and never really paying attention to me. It was like dating a human trophy case.”

Elliot’s response is more energetic now. “Man, that’s brutal. You deserve someone who really gets you. By the way, I’m really into fitness and partying hard. You should come out with me sometime. I’ve got some epic moves that you just have to see to believe!” He leans in, flexing his biceps as he talks, his attempt to impress becoming increasingly overt.

By the time Elliot meets Megan, his transformation into the quintessential Jersey Shore frat bro is nearly complete. “Hey, check out these abs!” he exclaims, dramatically flexing his muscles. “So, what’s your dating history like?”

Megan looks annoyed. “My last boyfriend was a total mess. He was super controlling, always trying to dictate what I should do, and his idea of fun was just belittling anyone who didn’t share his views.”

Elliot’s demeanor shifts to one of self-righteousness. “Oh, I hear you. You know, I’m all about strong values and living life right. Let me tell you about my faith and how it shapes everything I do. It’s important to have principles and stand by them, don’t you think? And if you’re up for it, we can hit the gym together—I’ve got a killer routine that’ll really get you in shape.” His voice is louder now, and he begins to adopt a more exaggerated, boastful tone. His flashy clothes and confident swagger are on full display, complete with a series of gold chains that jingle with every movement.

With each encounter, Elliot’s interactions evolve from casual charm to overtly flashy and judgmental, embodying the full spectrum of the Jersey Shore frat bro persona. He now shouts “Bro, do you even lift?” to anyone within earshot, and his conversations revolve around his gym exploits, his supposedly imminent rise to fame, and his rigid views on morality. His once-charming approach has devolved into an obnoxious display of self-importance, making it clear that he believes he’s the life of the party and the king of the scene, despite how others view his increasingly disruptive presence.

Another woman,Stacy, elegant yet assertive. “You’re like this guy I dated who was always talking about his abs. He thought his six-pack was his greatest achievement and never missed an opportunity to flaunt it.”

Elliot’s abdominal muscles come into sharp focus, forming an impressive six-pack—or perhaps an eight-pack—that’s etched with clarity. His obliques carve out a bold V-shaped expanse, his abdominal fortress a statement of core strength. His demeanor shifts to reflect a heightened arrogance, his conversations increasingly dismissive of others’ opinions, especially women’s.

A final woman, with a commanding presence and an air of confidence, takes a seat beside him. “You’ve got that same vibe as this guy I used to know. His back was his pride, and he’d always talk about how his lats made him look like a superhero. He had this whole ‘alpha male’ thing going on.”

Elliot’s back expands into a vista of muscular splendor, the latissimus dorsi creating a dramatic V-shape that broadens his frame. His shoulders and back are now a testament to his dedication and hard work, his entire physique a harmonious blend of strength and dominance. His interactions become increasingly aggressive and confrontational, his behavior driven by a sense of entitlement and a belief that his place in the social hierarchy grants him respect and privileges.

As he continues to flex and flaunt, his personality is a cauldron of arrogance and self-entitlement. He navigates conversations with a dismissive attitude, his interactions marked by a superficial charm that quickly turns patronizing. His views are conveyed with a conviction that leaves little room for empathy or genuine connection. Women’s opinions are secondary, often brushed aside with a smirk or a sarcastic quip. He is boastful, aggressive, and confrontational, driven by a sense of superiority and entitlement that colors every interaction.

His behavior is a reflection of deeper insecurities masked by bravado, a superficial facade that prioritizes status and appearances over meaningful human connection. Each interaction with the women in the bar further entrenches him in his new persona, reinforcing his belief that his physical form and traditional values entitle him to a special place of respect and admiration.

Elliot can't help but check himself out in the mirror as he walks towards the bar. His reflection shows a man who is not only physically impressive but also confident and charming. The muscles that bulge beneath his tight shirt are proof of his dedication to fitness, while his smirk reveals an air of superiority that comes with being so attractive.

As Elliot sits down at the bar, he feels a surge of pride wash over him. He knows he looks good - really good - and it's hard not to let that go to his head sometimes. He laughs at stupid jokes just because they make people laugh, even though deep down inside he knows they aren't funny at all… But who cares? Life is about having fun and enjoying yourself!

Feeling particularly horny tonight, Elliot tugs on his dick through his pants as discreetly as possible (or so he thinks). To his surprise (and delight), it grows harder than ever before underneath all that fabric… This must mean one thing: girls are going to love him tonight! With each passing moment spent admiring himself in the mirror or chatting up random girls at the bar, Elliot ages back towards 21 – becoming more like an obnoxious frat bro than ever before.

Elliot strode across the bar with a swagger that made the room's energy shift. His gaze locked onto Dahlia, who was striking in a fitted top that accentuated her curves. To Elliot, she now seemed irresistibly alluring, her every movement catching his eye. His thoughts raced, consumed by a physical attraction that clouded his judgment and inflamed his desire.

Dahlia’s outfit clung tightly to her frame, her cleavage barely contained by the low-cut neckline. Elliot’s focus was fixated, his pulse quickening as he felt a surge of arousal. As he approached, his gaze wandered unabashedly over her, a smirk forming on his lips.

“Hey, sexy lady. What’s up?” Elliot’s voice was dripping with bravado, his attempt at charm masking a more primal urge.

Dahlia met his approach with an air of practiced confidence, her eyes scanning him from head to toe with a mix of amusement and appraisal. Her demeanor was calm and calculated, clearly enjoying the effect she had on him. “What’s your name, big guy?”

Elliot faltered, momentarily thrown by the question. “Uhhhh—” he stammered, momentarily disoriented. His usual ease seemed to waver under Dahlia’s cool gaze.

Dahlia’s lips curled into a twisted smile. “Not much of a thinker, are ya?” she taunted. “You’re just a big, dumb Jersey Shore jerk, Jayden.”

In an instant, Elliot's identity seemed to dissolve, replaced by the persona of Jayden. The transition was seamless, as if the name had always been a part of him. Jayden’s life was now marked by a different kind of swagger—a brash, overt confidence that bordered on arrogance.

Jayden reveled in his new persona, seeing himself as a quintessentially superior figure. His world was framed by his appearance and a self-assured, if superficial, view of his own importance. He strutted with the belief that his physicality and forceful personality entitled him to admiration and respect. In his mind, his “Jersey Shore” persona represented an ideal of dominance and entitlement, far removed from any introspection or vulnerability.

Jayden’s existence was characterized by a relentless pursuit of validation and a dismissal of anything that didn’t align with his inflated self-image. He was the loudest voice in the room, certain that his presence alone justified his elevated status.

Jayden’s life is a vivid tableau of flashy appearances and brash self-assurance. His daily existence revolves around a carefully curated persona of overconfidence and bravado. To him, every interaction is a chance to assert his dominance and flaunt his perceived superiority. His world is marked by a relentless pursuit of admiration and validation, driven by the belief that he is inherently better than those around him.

He lives in a high-rise apartment decorated with gaudy, ostentatious furnishings, the kind that screams luxury without much regard for taste. His wardrobe is full of designer clothes and flashy accessories—bright, logo-heavy shirts, tight jeans, and meticulously styled hair. His reflection in the mirror is a constant reminder of his self-image, one that he admires with almost obsessive pride.

Jayden’s social life is an extension of his persona. He frequents the hottest nightclubs and bars, always seeking the spotlight and reveling in the attention he receives. His conversations are peppered with boasts about his latest conquests, his supposed achievements, and his enviable lifestyle. He believes that his physical appearance and showy demeanor make him the center of attention, and he expects admiration and deference from everyone he meets.

In his interactions, Jayden is dismissive and condescending. He sees himself as the epitome of success and status, and he treats others as if they exist solely to validate his greatness. His relationships are shallow, built on surface-level connections that reinforce his self-image rather than genuine emotional bonds.

Jayden’s belief in his superiority extends to every facet of his life. He’s convinced that his charm, physicality, and wealth place him on a higher plane than others. His confidence, however, is not just a part of his personality but a necessary shield against the deeper insecurities he harbors. He masks any self-doubt with an aggressive display of arrogance and entitlement.

He dismisses anyone who challenges his inflated sense of self or fails to show him the respect he feels he deserves. His interactions are often laced with sarcasm and a patronizing tone, particularly when faced with opinions or ideas that contradict his own. Jayden’s worldview is simplistic, revolving around the belief that his success and appearance make him inherently superior.

In essence, Jayden’s life is a carefully constructed facade of dominance and self-importance, a constant performance designed to convince himself and others of his unparalleled greatness. Despite this outward display of confidence, his sense of superiority is ultimately a fragile defense against his own insecurities and fears of inadequacy.

Jayden hits on Dahlia, treating her like shit. He grabs her and starts making out with her. As they kiss, something strange happens - Dahlia's hair goes from black to platinum blonde! Her clothes also get sluttier and sluttier as she becomes more and more aroused by Jayden's touch.

A fog descends on Dahlia's mind as she too grows dumber and more vapid, forgetting her name in the process. All that matters now is moaning loudly while feeling up Jayden's arm muscles. Dahlia is gone and she is reborn as Krystal, a vapid dumb bimbo. Magic always has a price.

Jayden's muscles are impressive to say the least. His biceps bulge with every flex, and his abs ripple beneath his skin as he moves. Dahlia can't help but feel drawn to them, her hands instinctively reaching out to touch and explore every inch of his body.

She starts by running her fingers along the contours of his chest, marveling at how defined each muscle is. Then she moves down towards his stomach, tracing the lines of his six-pack before finally settling on gripping one of his biceps tightly. She squeezes it hard as if testing its strength - or perhaps just trying to feel closer to him…

Jayden and Krystal passionately make out, their tongues dancing in each other's mouths. He grabs her by the waist and pulls her closer, feeling her firm ass against his crotch.

Jayden's muscles are the epitome of masculinity. His biceps bulge with every flex, and his abs ripple beneath his skin as he moves. He is confident and brash, oozing testosterone with every word that leaves his mouth.

As they dance together, Jayden can't help but show off his physique - flexing those hard-earned muscles for all to see. His attitude matches the power he possesses; cocky and arrogant, yet undeniably attractive in a way that makes women weak at the knees…

"Oh fuck yeah," he groans into her ear. "You're so hot."

Krystal moans loudly as she grinds against him, unable to contain herself any longer. "Take me home," she pants breathlessly. "I want you inside me right now."

Jayden chuckles before picking Krystal up bridal style and carrying her towards the exit of the bar. Once they're outside, he slams her against a nearby wall and starts kissing down her neck while groping at every inch of exposed skin

Jayden treats Krystal like shit as he fucks her, demeaning her and being rude and crude. He's a total jerk throughout their encounter.

"Take off your clothes," Jayden demands, his voice rough with lust.

Krystal hesitates for a moment before obeying, stripping down to reveal her naked body for him. She's already wet and ready for him, her breath coming in short gasps as she anticipates what's to come.

Jayden wastes no time in pushing Krystal against the wall and roughly kissing her neck while groping at every inch of exposed skin - squeezing her breasts roughly and pinching her nipples until they stand at attention. He grinds his hard cock against her moist pussy through their clothes, eliciting a moan from deep within Krystal's throat as she throws back her head in ecstasy

"You like that, slut?" Jayden growls into Krystal's ear as he continues to pound into her. "Tell me you want it!"

Krystal moans loudly in response, unable to form coherent words due to the intense pleasure coursing through her body. Her hands clutch at Jayden's shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she tries desperately not to scream out loud.

"Fuck yes," she manages after a moment. "Please… don't stop."

Jayden chuckles darkly before picking up the pace even more - thrusting deeper and harder than before with each stroke of his hips against hers.

After they finish, Jayden tosses her some money before walking out of the room. "Thanks for the hookup, whore" he says casually as if she was just another piece of meat to him.

Jayden heads straight to the gym afterward, eager to show off his muscles and work on getting even bigger. He spends hours lifting weights, focusing solely on himself and his body - ignoring everyone else around him.

[forcemeanakin]

Hot with brains

•WARNINGS: SMUT.  Fingering (f receiving), oral fixation, dirty talk, praise kink and also degrading kink, corruption kink kinda??? Edging. Public space. The OC has a kink that attracts her to smart guys.

Pairing: ROTS!Anakin Skywalker x Female!reader.

Summary: Anakin falls for the librarian at the Jedi Temple, however, he soon realizes his adorable smile and golden curls won’t cut it with this one. No, she likes something different: brains. 

Word count: 4.7K. 

A/N: Pretty self-indulgent piece. I've been obsessed with Anakin's engineering brain ever since I got into Star Wars and this idea had be floating around for a whileeeee. Hope you all enjoy reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it!

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You liked smart guys. 

It wasn’t a kink per sé. You just couldn’t see yourself hooking up with someone with no brains, let alone establishing a committed relationship with them. You were swoon by guys with deep thoughts and admirable speech skills. The type of man that would go for a whisky instead of a beer, or use real shoes instead of plain sneakers.

You being a snob might have to do with your upbringing, after all you were the daughter of two scholars and professors of one of the most prestigious universities of Coruscant. You were raised to be logical and love intellectual conversations. You wouldn’t- No. You couldn’t see yourself enjoying a space with someone with a low IQ.

That was the reasoning behind taking the internship in the Jedi Temple’s library as part of your college voluntary program. You had to volunteer a certain amount of hours in order to graduate from your Journalism degree with honors. 

You thought that even though this wasn’t exactly the area in which you were specializing, you would soak up some of the ancient knowledge of the Order, even make some great connections for the future. And so far it has been just that: A great experience. You got to read some really cool books and in the hours where no one would come, you got to finish some school work. The Jedi who would visit the library were nice and kind, always polite with a big smile. You even grew really fond of a young Togruta padawan that would spend her breaks in between training devouring books. 

It was calm and quiet. 

Until the storm broke through the door.

“Is this the one you’re looking for?” You yelled to Ahsoka as you climbed down the stairs with the title she asked for.

“Yes! Thank you, y/n!” She gave you a hug and ran to her table to start reading about the swamps in Dagobah.

You returned to your desk and kept registering the book’s codes into the control sheet when a loud sound made you look to the door, the one that was violently being thrown to open room for a tall, curly-haired man with dark robes.

You would recognize those robes anywhere. In reality, anyone from any point of the galaxy would recognize them.

Anakin Skywalker. 

One of the few exceptions of Jedi men who didn’t live up to the sophisticated standard of the Order’s image. And definitely someone you would prefer to stay away from. For some reason he was the favorite warrior of the people; the citizens would line up in front of the Temple to scream “Hero with no fear” to that pretentious douchebag.

He was fine. 

As what most people would call courageous, you would say careless. To others he was passionate, to you he was irrational. Not to mention how idiotic and unsubordinated he was; always talking back and doing things his way, ignoring what the guidelines said.

You didn’t like him. You didn’t like him at all. For that you were thankful that he never set foot into your sacred place. Until that doomed day.

“C’mon, Snips.” He shouted, approaching the desk where she sat. “We need to go. Council just called.”

“Can I have five more minutes? I’ve barely read anything about where we are going!” Ahsoka whined.

“You don’t need to read anything, we will find out anything that’s necessary there.” He huffed, finding his apprentice’s actions ridiculous. 

You quietly sighed and rolled my eyes. Of course.

“Fine… but y/n really took her time fetching it for me.” She exhaled annoyed and closed the book. 

Your eyes remained glued to your task at hand, not willing to look up and be involved in some type of pending argument.

“Who’s y/n?” Anakin scoffed rather loudly.

“Y/n! The volunteer?” Anakin frowned at the short explanation and shook his head in a negative motion. “You know, y/n! C’mon Skyguy, follow me.”

No, please no, you whispered to your insides.

“Hey, y/n!” You heard Ahsoka’s little footsteps running to where you were. 

“What can I do for you, Soka?” You answered, still pretending that you were too busy to move your head from its position.

“Skyguy hasn’t met you. Here, Anakin, y/n. She helps us out here in the library.”

“Ahsoka, we’re not supposed to be having social meetings, we need to go-” You finally gazed up and in that moment, Anakin and you made eye contact for the first time; it was intense. It felt like something clicked for him. “You must be Y/n.” Anakin shook his head lightly, hinting a little smirk as leaned over your table with fixed eyes. 

Hell, no.

“Yes, I am. How may I help you?” You were bitter, totally unbothered by his chiseled cheekbones, or his gorgeous hair, or his plumped lips. Not even the scar had any effect whatsoever. He was an ass and that was automatically a turn off for you. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t met you. You must be new.” He explained with dreamy eyes, subtly checking you out. You cursed the moment you decided to come in today with a blouse who had a bit of a cleavage. “I’m Anakin. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Actually, I’ve been here for almost two months now.” You suppressed the soul-eating need to roll your eyes.

“Oh, really? Sorry, I don’t come here much.” He leaned over even more, trying to keep eye contact even when you sat down. 

“Obviously.” You whispered on the low.

“Excuse me?” Anakin frowned, interrupting his beam to pout with confusion.

“Nothing.” You smiled widely with a fake grin. 

“Okay…” His frown deepened before a smirk broke out his lips. “Maybe I will make it a habit and visit more often.” He shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head to the side, deciphering the effects of his statement on you. 

“You should.” You looked at him and gave him a side-smile, making his eyes sparkle. “Books are good for you.” You returned to check the order of nabooian books on your computer. 

“Yeah, books are cool but there are other things I would much rather check out.” He smirked shamelessly at you, the back-handed comment flying way over his head.

You felt like gagging. Not the good kind.

Before you could come up with a clever response and shut him down for good, Ahsoka spoke from behind him.

“Ugh, gross! Let’s go!” The kid dragged him out by his clothes and before he disappeared through the glass door, he winked at you.

That was the first time you have seen him. First of many, many more. 

Since the day your paths crossed, he took every fleeting moment to come and “read”, when in reality it was just him eating, or drawing or doing anything but opening a book. Taking advantage of your breaks, or whenever you returned to your seat after doing rounds, he would come over and make conversation. About his battles, his accomplishments, his close-calls to death… or about random facts he collected from his missions and travels; Anything that would maybe impress you.

And when he wasn’t doing that? He would drown you in compliments, to see if in fact, you soften up to him. Anakin was already aware of your no-so-secret disgust towards him the day he caught one of your eye rolls.

Did he care? No. 

He was persistent: admiring your hair, loving the way you had styled it in a little bun (even though it was because the heat was eating you alive). He would ask about the tasks you were performing, sucking at pretending to be interested in hearing about organizing books in alphabetical order. 

And it would have maybe worked; his good looks combined to his natural charisma were enough to make any mortal melt at his sight. You almost combust when you saw him carrying some wood boards into the library, the primal part of you rejoicing at the sight of his strong muscles stretching. The man was eye candy, whether you like it or not.

But, boy, were you tough.

Anakin Skywalker was not your cup of tea to say the least. You wouldn’t collaborate in his attempts to get to know you. You were so uninterested in finding out more about him when you had already scanned him. Just a way-too-handsome-for-his-own-good guy who was lucky enough to be born as the Chosen One, because otherwise, he would have never made it in the Order. He was determined, you would give him that. 

His approaches were never creepy or invasive enough to make you uncomfortable, only to drive you wild. Even when he was the worst part of your day, you had to keep the polite but distant charade going on, in order to protect your job. Your disgust towards him, instead of hurting him, amused him. He liked challenges and you were freaking Mission Impossible. Although he also saw the flaws in you: a pretentious prick girl who had probably achieved everything in her life thanks to nepotism. But he could see past that.

Because, boy, were you hot. 

And he was sure you liked it nasty. 

Underneath your goodie-two-shoes clothes hid the true you: he knew you loved being treated like a filthy slut.

“Hello, y/n!” Ahsoka squealed in an excited voice. You two have grown to adore each other. 

“Hey, Soka!” You responded happily, finishing to put some encyclopedias on a shelf. When you turned around, you saw she wasn’t alone. “Oh… good afternoon, Anakin.”

“Nice to see you too, y/n.” Anakin huffed in a sarcastic voice before strolling to where you were, Ahsoka following close behind. “Is that a new shirt? It suits you.”

“No, it’s the same white button up shirt that I’ve always used.” You smiled and turned around to roll your eyes in peace. He was too busy devouring your bosom behind the fabric to ever notice the barrier between his eyes and your skin.

“Y/n, do you think you could grab me a book about loreeks? I’m doing a little presentation about them for my science class.” Ahsoka asked you with a sweet voice.

“Oh sure… just let me look oveeeer…” You walked, stretching the words as you searched in the countless sections. “...here. It must be on one of these shelves.” You announced when you entered the exotic animals aisle. 

Digitating the code on your scanner you found out it was in one of the tallest shelves, only reachable with a ladder. Right when you were about to move it, Anakin came in.

“Don’t worry, Y/n. I’ll get it.” And he used the Force to bring the book down. “Here you go Snips, study hard.” He nudged her head, annoying her.

“Yeah, I guess… but it’s Friday. Can I read after I hang out with the other padawans? Barris and Meelo are going skating!” She gave her best puppy eyes, to which Anakin agreed, after giving it little to no thought.

“You didn’t have to give her the book, I could have done it.” You waited for Ahsoka to leave before dropping the bomb. 

“Easy there, kitten. I was just helping out.” He furrowed his eyebrows. As if the unnecessary nickname wasn’t enough to drive you mad. Looking down, he saw the rest of your outfit and lingered his eyes more than necessary in your short, black skirt. “On second thought, I might have let you do it.” He smirked confidently.

“Just stay out of my way, okay?” You growled, walking away from him to your desk, not without bumping your shoulder with his on your way out.

“What the hell is your problem?” He asked with an incredulous face.

You were done. The build-up from the past month was beginning to choke down your sense of decency. Not to mention that your day was already going terrible before he appeared: the droid that would always help you out was broken, significantly delaying your work day. Also, it was laundry day and you had to use your uncomfortable lingerie.

“You know what, Skywalker?” You turned around with raised eyebrows. “You’re my problem.” He opened his eyes in bewilderment. “I don’t like you. I don’t appreciate you coming in, all macho-” You made a mocking manner. “-acting like a goddamn superhero, only after cleaning up the mess you created in the first place.” You crossed your arms in your chest. 

“I’m a general, kitten, and I can assure you the war it’s not my fault.” He scoffed, he used the nickname again, knowing it would press your buttons. 

“And how many times have you messed it up bigger than it was?” You squinted your eyes, only to see him run out of words. “That’s what I thought.” You came back to digitating codes. “It’s like you don’t think. You are just a machine run by adrenaline and praise.” You finally rolled your eyes in front of him without shame. You tried to run down the reports that C7, your assistant droid would do, only to fail and almost delete everything in your computer. “And I can assure you I have bigger problems than dealing with you!”

“Okay, back down-”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You yelled, getting desperate and throwing a tantrum at the device. You had enough for the day. You could leave, given that no one would come over this late, but your sense of responsibility prevented you from going home before finishing your work load. “I fucking hate this system!”

“Let me see-”

“Don’t! Just don’t, okay?” You swatted his hand away. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Could you stop being so stuck-up and let me help you?” He raised his voice, stepping up close to tower you. His eyes were on fire and you could sense that your previous comments did get to him, but for some reason outside of your understanding, he was still willing to help.

“Fine.” You chewed the words in your mouth, stepping down as you glared at him, giving him space to analyze the situation.

Instead of leaning down the computer, he went directly to C7, who lingered weakly on the side of your desk. He picked him up and put it on the table, moving him around his hands to examine the droid. He hummed after a couple of minutes, putting the mechanical body at eye level. “I see.”

“See what? What is it?” You pressed, trying to pick a glance from over his shoulder.

“I’m going to need my tools.” He murmured, dropping the droid back again.

“Wh-”

“I’ll be right back.” He exclaimed, before heading to the door in a rush.

“Wait! What?” You shouted, the shadow of his body the only thing visible.

You stayed alone for about fifteen minutes. You even got to thinking that he was pulling a prank on you, after yelling at him. But you stayed there, because well… what else would you do? You were beginning to fall asleep as you played with paper clips, when you heard the door being opened again.

“Finally! I thought you had left!” You sighed in relief, pushing your body off your desk. 

“I was getting my tools, I told you.” He frowned, lifting the heavy, dark red box to the white marble. “Now let’s bring this one back to life.” He smiled, before busting the carcass open. 

It took Anakin less than what you waited for him to get C7 up and running again. He flipped panels, snapped cables and pressed buttons, at an order that seemed random to you, until C7’s mechanical eyes opened again.

“Oh my God!” You laughed in disbelief. “He’s functioning again!”

Anakin smiled down at the table, as he finished up adjusting some screws. C7 sat up, analyzing his surroundings before getting up and going straight back to work. 

“I-I-” You were speechless. How did he do that? So fast? “I can’t believe you just did that.” You mumbled, still looking at C7 like it was a ghost. “Thank you, Anakin.” You turned around with apologizing eyes, twitching an embarrassed smile. 

“No problem. His transmitter was disconnected from the main system. I had to fix his-” The next couple of things that he mentioned sounded like pure gibberish to you, but he was very firm, so it must be true. Right? Sensing your bafflement, he spilled facts slower and quieter until he stopped talking, finalizing with a dry smile. “Yeah, it was nothing.”

He was starting to pack everything in his toolbox again and you had a pending need to say something. However, you didn’t know if you should kick off with a real apology or-

“How did you know all that?” So a pop quiz it was. In your defense, you were genuinely curious about the abilities he had just demonstrated. Mindblown, to be more specific. 

“About what?” He furrowed his brows, closing the box but leaving on the table. 

“About the transmitter, and the restraining bolt, and- and-” You were running out of technical terms. 

“Mechanics are second nature to me at this point.” He shrugged his shoulders, picking up the box. “I know everything about the topic, so, it was an easy fix. I’d have rearranged his central system if I had the missing part, but it’s very specific. What I did will do for now, though.” 

He was about to leave when he noticed the way you were leaning on the table, head on top of your fist to pay close attention to him. You were murmuring almost unhearable “uh-huh”s, totally lost in his words. 

“Sooo, you know mechanics.” You were such a hypocrite, you couldn’t stand the man fifteen minutes ago and now you were drooling over the sight of him explaining complicated shit to you. Snob. “You often fix things?” You tried to investigate, see if the throbbing happening between your legs was worth pursuing. 

“Sometimes… I often go to the hangar and repair the damaged ships or flip them.” He grinned without teeth. “The techs often ask for me. They say I have an eye for these things. Been working on droids since I was a kid, so.” Anakin wasn’t trying to brag, but his ample knowledge in mechanics was something that he prided himself on. 

“That seems like a lot of work.” You continued the small talk, slowly losing yourself over this spontaneous crush. 

“It can get tricky.” He dismissed, beginning to notice the glint on your eyes. He recognized the way your irises had darkened: He got those fuck-me eyes wherever he went. “Still haven’t found something I can’t fix.”

But it was involuntary. The fact that he was an expert on a matter as hard as mechanics scratched a part of your brain; It flipped a switch inside of you. Anakin was a different man under your eyes now. He was smart, hella smart. 

“Gosh, that’s so impressive.” You giggled like the girls that would flirt at him. Pathetic. But you quickly regained control, not before sucking up some courage and getting closer to him, posing more seductively this time. “That brain of yours sure hides lots of secrets.”

He hadn’t quite figured out why the change of heart, so it took him a moment to replay your evening together. It lasted a bit more than he liked to admit, but it hit him. Of course. An arrogant smile cracked his face. Of course you would be attracted to someone who was a master of something you consider relevant. After all, you liked to consider yourself an “intellectual”. Just to test his theory, he consciously started to brag about something else… something that would have your panties in a bunch if his hypothesis was correct.

“Wanna know another one?” He cocked an eyebrow, resting his elbow on the table to stand inches away from your face.

Your face shined with a slight pink blush, but it was the way you bit your lip that drove him crazy. That and your enthusiastic nod. “Yeah.”

“There’s a reason behind why I’m the best pilot of the fleet. And it’s not just because of my background as a pod racer or the Force.” He whispered, snickering at how soft your eyes had grown. “It’s actually because… I use physics.”

“Physics?” You almost moaned. 

“Yeah, physics.” He repeated, moistening his lips, a thing your eyes followed. “Self-taught, just like with mechanics.”

That ripped a subtle whimper out of you. Well, not subtle to him. 

“You-you understand math?” If it wasn’t because you were visibly squeezing your thighs at the newly acquired information, he would be completely offended that you thought he was dumb as fuck. 

“Love em.” He muttered, his intense stare glued to you, as his fingers put a string of hair behind your ear.

Like thunder, you were rushing to capture his lips and show him just how hot you thought he was now. Anakin freezed at first, taking aback by your sudden demonstration of affection, but when he understood that you were willingly -and enthusiastically- giving yourself to him, he wasted no time to embrace you back. 

Wet kisses splashed everywhere; it was fucking mess. You hung onto his shoulders while he groped all of your body, starting with your sweet hips, fondling your ass like it was his personal stress ball and finally landing on your waist. You pressed against him shamelessly, but in reality, how much shame could you still have when the man’s tongue was down your throat? The only thing you knew with certainty was that the sucking sounds and moans you both dropped were intensifying the already sex-filled atmosphere.

“Anakin.” You tried to sound normal, but your voice was failing just like your knees were. “W-why haven’t you gone to a proper school? Maybe get a degree?”

Was that seriously so important to you? The opinion of others? Anakin questioned in his own head.

Anakin was the kind of person that wasn’t susceptible to the opinion of others, especially regarding his own image. He was sure of the shit he knew and didn’t need anyone validating that for him. No expensive universities, no uptight professors; Obi-Wan was more than enough. Nonetheless, he had found a shortcut to get inside your pants and God as his witness, he was gonna use it. 

“Y/n.” He snickered right in your face, drinking in the power. “I don’t care about any of that. I'm a certified engineer, that’s how I got to build this myself.” Removing the leather, he revealed his mechanical limb to you, wiggling his fingers.

It was fancier than you ever thought a mechanical hand could be. Black with touches of gold; it was elegant and sophisticated, way more advanced than any technology you had ever seen in the orthopedics research field. And you knew it well, your mom was an orthopedic surgeon. 

It was no surprise to him that after spilling that last fact you were now shamelessly grinding on his half-hard. The fact that he was an engineering mastermind was such an aphrodisiac. And as much as he wanted to have another taste of your full, pink lips, the ones he often imagined enveloped around his dick while you scolded him, Anakin wasn’t willing to make the first move.

You were going to have to beg for it. 

“Anakin?” Your hands flattened on his pecs, back arching when he cupped your cheek with the cool durasteel prosthetic, kneading against it with soft eyes. He must have noticed how captivated you were by his invention. 

“Yeah, baby?” He continued the soft ministrations up and down your cheek, redirecting your gaze to his face whenever your eyes would deviate to his artificial limb. 

“You- Uhm, you built it from scratch?” You gulped when his thumb inched closer to your mouth, rubbing your bottom lip and pulling it open. 

Little obedient you put no resistance, and instead, stuck out your wet tongue to happily receive his digit into your warmness. But this time it was his index, the one you were bobbing your head into, eye contact not faltering even when you were practically giving oral to his hand. Anakin smiled pleased at your enthusiasm for pleasuring him and added another finger for you to lubricate. 

“From scratch.” He nodded, lustful irises boring into you. “Designed it too.”

You moaned around him, feeling content with being sandwiched between his firm torso and your desk, and with your mouth being fucked by his fingers. Saliva smeared all over your chin, you whined pitifully when your lips were no longer stuffed. On the contrary of leaving you all hot and bothered, Anakin lowered those same fingers to your leaky cunt, pushing your underwear aside for easy access. 

He groaned when he first inserted a finger, your gasping a sign for him to slow down. “Baby, you’re tight.” He seemed to love that about you. 

After adjusting to the size of his strong index finger, Anakin breached in with his middle one, repeating the process of you getting used to the coldness and girth all over. 

“A-Anakin.” You closed your eyes, involuntarily standing on your tippy toes. 

“That’s right, you’re doing so well. Taking my fingers like a true champ.” He bit down a condescending smile. “Atta girl.”

The initial discomfort was just a milestone you had to overcome to succumb to the pleasure that it was being fucked by Anakin Skywalker’s metal hand. His frigid thumb came to roll over your bundle of nerves, helping you relax into him and enjoy the sensation of fully riding his hand. 

“That’s it. Fuck my hand just like that, kitten.” He chuckled, finding a spot on your neck to latch on, leave a little souvenir of your encounter, and hide his pitiful laugh. 

Kisses were peppered along your exposed throat, your clavicle and jaw, his long eyelashes tickling you and making you clench around his metal hand tighter. Whilst you worried about not whining too loud for anyone to enter the library, Anakin was pumping his fingers at such an unholy pace to complicate your task.

“Shhh, baby. You need to be quiet. Wouldn’t like for anyone to come in. You could lose your job.” He mocked with a side smile and you had to gripped his bicep to keep your balance. “Could you imagine? Getting caught having sex at work? With a Jedi?”

You could perceive that the trespassing of the pseudo-celibacy Jedi code was turning him to no end, the mischievous glimmer in his eyes getting stronger when he said the last sentence. 

“W-We’re not having sex.” You corrected him, like it mattered. Like having him knuckles deep into you was somehow less frowned-upon than to have actual coitus.

That made him laugh and you wiggled underneath him, fighting to not let your tears fall. 

“You just wait.” His lips ghosted over yours, his breath fanning over your heated face. The increase of the movements of his hand was a sign that he had noticed the contractions around his digits, fully aware that you were close. “Ready to come, baby? Gonna gush all over me?”

You nodded, biting your swollen lip, losing the battle against your tear duct. Anakin used his other thumb, the one that was not torturing your clit, to liberate your abused lip. His mouth lowered to capture yours in a hot kiss, this tongue sliding on your inside until it hit your throat. So deep into you that you would never forget his taste; so deep you will never be able to deny him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You whimpered against his smile when you reached your peak, dissolving into this meaningless mass between his arms. “Anakin…” You rode out your climax, still rocking your hips to prolong the pleasure.

Anakin waited until you regained some composure to help you fix your clothes, putting back your underwear as he found it and lowering your skirt. His actions had you frowning: Weren’t you two gonna fuck? You were already mentally prepared to welcome his enormous cock in your tiny canal. 

He grinned at your puppy eyes and adorable pout, your flustered state funnier than it should be. It was almost enough to break him. But someone had to give you a lesson. 

 “At the end of the day, I’m just a soldier, Y/n. An incompetent one, according to you.” 

Before you could protest that, he was tilting his head in an accusatory manner. Like saying: Don’t even try it. And before leaving with his head high, he spat: 

“My apologies if that’s not fancy enough for you, ma’am.”

[loveinhawkins]

There’s perks to working a summer job where there’s seemingly no manager. Steve got an at most five minute interview with an overly smiley dude who said, “An independent workforce is very important to us,” and didn’t even check his references before telling Steve that he was hired.

So it’s down to him and Robin alone to open and close Scoops Ahoy. And the lack of any boss—not even a supervisor—is mostly great, means that no-one’s hovering over their shoulders droning on about ‘company policy’, means they can take their breaks as and when, and no-one’s tapping their foot with an eye on the clock.

But then there’s the times where it’s absolutely swamped with customers, and the statistical likelihood of having to serve an asshole skyrockets; and most assholes don’t tend to think of teenagers slinging ice-cream as being worthy of even the tiniest shred of respect.

“Are you wilfully this stupid, missy?” a douchebag snaps at Robin during the lunchtime rush, after she added chocolate sauce on his sundae instead of raspberry.

She remakes the order with a look that, if there was any justice in the world, would make him drop down dead on the spot. But instead, he just scoffs when she passes him the new sundae.

“Have a spectacular day,” Robin says acerbically, and if it was any other time, Steve would be ducking down behind the counter, pretending to check on stock levels so he can hide his laughter.

Except Robin’s also doing that thing where she blinks a lot, and Steve knows she’s fighting tears of frustration because he privately does something remarkably similar.

There’s a sinking feeling in his chest coupled with what’s becoming a steadily frequent flare of protectiveness. That one usually comes with the kids and The Upside Down—except Robin is a girl who’s round about his age, so he half-heartedly assumes it must be because he has a crush on her.

But he’s not even thinking about said crush at all when he gently bumps her towards the break room with his hip and says, “Take yours first, I’ve got this.”

For half a second, Robin’s eyes seem to shine in gratitude before she puts a hand over her heart and declares, dripping in sarcasm, “You’re a god among men, Harrington, I never believed what anyone said about you.”

“You’re wel—hey, what did they say about me?”

The door to the break room shuts, but not before he hears Robin let out a genuine snort of laughter. He smiles and pivots back to the register.

The line’s calmed down; Steve recognises a substitute teacher waiting to be served: Mrs Greeves, who’s been at Hawkins High since the sixties, at least. There’s no other adult in the shop, so it’s presumably her little granddaughter who’s running about the place, without so much as a glancing eye on her.

But Steve doesn’t have to worry about a potential lost child scenario, because a guy suddenly slips out of the booth he’d been sitting in, bending down to the kid’s eye level and subtly ensuring that she doesn’t hightail it out of there.

It takes a few seconds for Steve to recognise him; he’s still getting used to the whole phenomenon of seeing people without the high school setting behind them. Like, Robin used to be just a name from a class he can’t even recall, and now he knows her for her dry wit and love of cryptic crosswords.

And this Eddie Munson is sort of a different beast from the guy Steve saw stomping around the cafeteria tables.

He’s dressed pretty much the same, (Hellfire shirt sans the leather jacket must be the ‘summer look’, Steve reckons), but he’s quieter as he chats with the little girl, letting her try on one of his skull rings to distract from her obvious boredom. His grin is softer, too.

Mrs Greeves clears her throat, and Steve promptly puts on his vacant ‘delightful customer service’ smile.

“Afternoon, Mrs Greeves, what can I do you for?”

She orders a simple strawberry cone for the kid, Abigail, and two scoops of lemon and vanilla in a cup for herself—appropriate, Steve thinks, because her face looks like she’s sucking on a lemon half the time.

As he prepares the ice-cream, he’s quickly remembering why she’s on the list of substitute teachers that students dread, even if he’s only had the ‘pleasure’ of being in a class supervised by her once. He has vague memories of how she’d talk with other teachers in a scandalised stage whisper about students from ‘broken homes’—he’s pretty sure she’s still an austere teacher at the Sunday School, too.

“Abigail,” she says sharply, when Steve finishes the cone, and she finally seems to realise her granddaughter isn’t by her side, “what have I told you about—”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Eddie says hurriedly. Abigail hands him the ring back, very carefully dropping it into his palm, and he gives her a gentle smile. “I don’t mind—”

“—not talking to strangers?” Mrs Greeves finishes, as if Eddie hadn’t spoken.

“But,” Eddie says with tiny frown, “you know me, ma’am, I’m—”

“Let me be plain then, Mr Munson.” She finally turns to favour Eddie with a scathing look. “I meant that I don’t want my granddaughter around a corrupting influence.”

There’s an awful silence while Abigail collects the cone.

“Oh,” Eddie says, still crouched down by the booth. He sounds very small.

And Steve’s view of Mrs Greeves quickly turns from a general dislike to an icy hatred.

“And here’s yours,” he says, sliding the cup over.

She looks down. Her mouth goes all pinched in displeasure.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

“It’s your ice-cream,” Steve says, playing up a confused blink. “Is—is this not what you ordered? I’m terribly sorry for the—”

“Don’t be obtuse, Mr Harrington. These scoops are tiny; they barely fill the cup!”

Yup, Steve thinks with a savage satisfaction. They’re the size of a melon ball, and even that’s being generous.

“Mrs Greeves, I’m afraid it’s store policy. Nothing to do with—”

“What kind of policy could possibly justify—”

“Rudeness,” Steve says smoothly.

Eddie’s head jerks up at that, his mouth slightly agape.

“Mr Harrington,” Mrs Greeves says, her face turning puce, “I would like to see your manager.”

“The manager,” Steve says flatly. “Okay, sure. I’ll go get him.”

What he does next, compared to everything else that’s happened in his life thus far, isn’t all that stupid.

Well. Maybe a little.

It’s worth it though, to see the way Eddie Munson’s eyes widen at the sight.

Making sure to have zero expression throughout, Steve mimes walking downstairs, throws off his hat while crouched behind the counter, then re-emerges with a quick ruffle of his hair.

“How can I help you?” he asks, like they’ve only just met.

The cup of minuscule ice-cream is soon up-ended as Mrs Greeves storms out, barking over her shoulder, “Abigail, come here!”

Eddie stands to let the kid out of the way, who seems blissfully ignorant with her cone. Steve’s sure he hears him mutter under his breath, “Jesus, she’s not a dog.”

“I’ll be reporting you, Steve Harrington, make no mistake!”

Yeah, good fucking luck. I sure as hell don’t know who really runs this place.

“Uh-huh,” Steve says. “Looking forward to it. Harrington with two ‘r’s one ‘n’, ma’am.”

“Shit, Harrington,” Eddie drawls. He’s leaning next to the booth, hip cocked, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’d seen it himself, Steve might’ve been convinced that the Eddie from a moment ago was a different person. “That was not worth getting fired over.”

“I’m not getting fired,” Steve says—although honestly, if that had been a real threat, he thinks his actions would probably have been the same. Huh. “I meant it, dude, there’s no manager here.”

Eddie nods slightly, looks up at the Scoops Ahoy sign and grins. “So you and Buckley are the skeleton crew on this ship.”

“Uh, I guess?”

Come on, man, Steve thinks, as Eddie keeps up the wide grin like it’s a shield. This isn’t the high school cafeteria; I’m not about to hit your lunch tray or whatever.

Out loud, he calls into the back, “Hey, Robin, the chocolate’s low. I’m just gonna put in a new batch if you want some of the old stuff.”

The sliding doors open.

Robin sighs as if she’s just had a very relaxing facial, but she’s actually holding a folded newspaper with the cryptic crossword all finished.

“I am so chilled out,” she says, with a delivery that could rival Eddie Munson’s trademark dramatics.

“You’re so weird,” Steve says mildly while making up a cup with the leftover chocolate ice-cream.

“You’ve just got no taste, Harrington.” She waggles the crossword at him. “You should give ‘em a try.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “I’m no good at that code-breaking stuff.” He passes her the cup, goes to start assembling his own and pauses. “Hey, Munson, you want some?”

“Oh, uh, I’m good,” Eddie says, sounding suddenly wrong-footed. “Sorry, I’m just, uh, killing time before my movie starts. The other stores said if I wasn’t buying anything I should get out, so…”

“So you’ve come to our oceanic sanctum,” Robin deadpans.

Steve rolls his eyes. “You know, just ‘cause you do crosswords doesn’t mean you have to turn into a dictionary. Ow.” He doesn’t quite duck in time to avoid the newspaper smacking him in the face. He turns to address Eddie again, who appears to be fighting back laughter. “What’re you gonna see, Munson?”

Eddie’s eyes glance away for a second. “Something very scary and befitting of my stature, Harrington.”

Robin, who’s made a habit of memorising the mall’s movie schedules, checks her watch and narrows her eyes. “Return to Oz?”

Eddie’s cheeks start to glow. “Fuck off, Buckley, I’ve never liked you.”

“You’re such a liar, I’ve heard your applause at band practice—”

“Okay, but,” Steve cuts in, jumping up onto the counter with one hand. “I thought the whole point was Oz was a dream. How can she return to—?”

“Christ, I don’t know, Harrington,” Eddie says. “I didn’t pick it for critical analysis; the poster had a dude with a pumpkin head on it, and I thought it looked cool.”

“Oh, I saw that,” Robin says. “Made me think of when all those pumpkins went bad. Like, imagine if they had faces.”

Unthinkingly, Steve says around his ice-cream spoon, “No way, I’m not dealing with that, too.”

“Excusez-moi?” Robin says.

“Hmm?” Steve says innocently.

“Hey, you missed quite a show earlier on, Buckley,” Eddie says. “Reckon Harrington deserves a tally in the ‘you rule’ column.”

Steve glares at Robin. “I told you to keep that outta view of the customers.”

“Ah, but I’m not buying anything,” Eddie points out, “ergo, not a customer.”

“Ergo,” Steve mimics.

“That board is strictly for romantic successes,” Robin says.

Eddie snorts. “Aw, that’s hardly fair. I think it should have more… rounded criteria.”

Robin’s eyes narrow again. “Eddie Munson, you’ve never complimented a jock in your life, don’t start now.”

“Hey,” Steve says, overselling a ‘wounded’ expression. “I’m more than that, y’know. I contain multitudes.”

“Sure,” Eddie says, smiling. “Folks, we’ve got Hawkins’s own Whitman right here.”

Steve flips him off and, on a whim, decides to channel his inner Dustin.

“Maybe I just see the world more clearly than you two ‘cause I’m free of societal constraints.”

“You’re working in a mall,” Robin says.

“High school societal contraints. I am unshackled and ergo, free.”

“Damn,” Eddie says, patting down his pockets for an imaginary pen, “I should use that.”

“Stop inflating Harrington’s ego and go catch your totally scary movie,” Robin says.

Eddie checks his own watch. “Oh, shit. Um.” And Steve thinks that it almost looks like he’s reluctant to leave. “Time flies, I guess. Better go ashore.” He catches Steve’s eye, gives a tiny little salute as he leaves. “May your summer continue to be mundane and manager-less.”

“You’re a poet, Munson,” Steve says, even though Eddie’s already out the door.

“So what was the show I missed?” Robin says. “I couldn’t hear anything back there.”

“Nothing that exciting.”

Steve tells her, and even though a smile tugs at her mouth as he re-enacts his mime, for some reason her eyes are kinda sad for most of it.

“Good job, Popeye,” she says thoughtfully—and though it directly contradicts her own words, she marks up a singular ‘you rule’ tally for the rest of her shift before wiping it off.

Eddie doesn’t re-appear after the movie—not that Steve’s keeping track of time, or anything—but at least they don’t have anymore nightmares for customers. As Steve mops, he thinks about how Dustin’s return from Camp Something Something is approaching—and the fact that he’s circled the date with a goofy smiley face is between him and his bedroom calendar.

He smiles to himself while clocking out of the now ghostly mall, recalling Eddie’s parting words.

The thought of a mundane, manager-less summer stretching before him sounds pretty damn good.

[roanniom]

King Steve flirting with inexperienced never been flirted with reader

Smartest

King!Steve Harrington x tutor!fem!reader

Read Part 2

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV/unprotected sex, teasing, coercion but consensual, King!Steve is a manipulative douchebag and is his own warning

“You’re really good at this stuff,” Steve says, watching for your reaction as you scribble math equations across the notebook paper. He can see embarrassment bloom across your features and he has to suppress the zing of triumph he feels. It’s so easy.

It makes him want to push it.

“It’s kinda hot.”

The pencil stops in its path and your eyes shoot up to his, brow raised.

“I’m not…that’s…you’re messing with me, Harrington,” you finally settle on in what you hope is a dismissive tone. Steve notes the way your hand writing becomes more shaky. He sucks on his teeth for a second before chuckling.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to be modest. Hot girl like you must be raking in the compliments.”

You shake your head but don’t look up from your work. Well…his work. The homework that you’re doing for him even though you were supposed to be tutoring him so he doesn’t fail algebra and miss out on basketball.

But his hand is suddenly on your knee.

“Look at you ignoring me. What, you tutor a football player that’s stealing all your attention? Nothing left for me?”

“I…I don’t tutor the football team,” you answer, dumb in spite of your high IQ. You look up and Steve’s grin is big, glad he could finally distract you. He’d gotten bored with the repetition of watching you do his homework. He’s got nothing else lined up today, might as well have some fun. It’s not like his parents are home and it’s a shame to waste a big empty house.

“Thought I was your favorite pupil,” Steve says in a mock whine, giving you puppy dog eyes that seem to short circuit your brain.

Bingo.

You can do his homework later.

“Y-you are,” you admit shyly. It makes Steve smile at you again and your heart bursts, the shriveled up crush you’ve been nursing for years finally being watered and rehydrated. You can hear your heart beat in your ears.

“Good. Because you’re my favorite hot tutor,” Steve says with a wink. You swallow visibly at that and Steve laughs. “You’re still acting like nobody’s ever called you hot before and I call bullshit.”

“No….nobody’s ever called me hot before,” you say in a small voice. Steve’s eyes widen for a second. He’d been pressing on that point, not really thinking too hard about whether or not it could be true. It was just mindless flirting. And pretty lazy flirting, to be honest.

He takes the space of a second to wonder if he feels bad about your clear inexperience and insecurity. Instead, he feels a dark, sour tinge of excitement. Your obvious interest is an opportunity. He doesn’t take any time to analyze whether he should be ashamed of that thought.

“Do you like it when I call you hot?” Steve asks. It’s not a question. Not really. Not when he knows the answer is yes. But he’s angling for something as his hand slides up from your knee to your thigh. You drop the pencil fully and give your attention completely to him.

“Y-yeah. I do.”

“Do you like it when I do…this?” Steve ask, lifting your arm and delivering a kiss to the inside crook of your elbow. You squirm but a smile starts forming on your face.

“Yeah.”

“And this?” Steve asks, moving up to kiss your bare shoulder, just beside the spaghetti strap of your sun dress.

“Uhuh.”

Steve moves to the edge of his seat so that his knee moves between your thighs under your skirt. You squeak a bit at the new proximity. One of Steve’s large hands grips your waist, pulling you to him so he can mouth at the side of your neck.

“What about this?”

The feeling of his lips on your skin lights you on fire and you find it hard to keep responding.

“Oh…” Your thighs try to close, a sudden twinge of need at their apex urging you to seek out friction. You end up squeezing your legs around his knee which has pushed between them. Steve pulls back and smirks.

"Oh," he teases. He slides his hand over the slope of your hip, to your stomach and down to your lower abdomen over the fabric of your skirt. Steve’s heavy lidded eyes find yours. “You seemed to really like that, huh?”

“I….I….” you stammer, unsure of what to do with your hands so you drop them to rest shakily on his forearms. Steve leans forward again, dropping his wet open mouth to the curve of your neck and sucking.

“Oh…fuck,” you whimper broke my. Steve chuckles against your spit-slicked skin.

“How am I supposed to learn from you if you’re going to set a bad example like that?” he asks wryly. You blink at him, watching as his hands move to the buttons at the neckline of your sun dress. Your chest rises and falls more rapidly as your breathing speeds up, both with arousal and anticipation.

Steve undoes the top button with deft fingers. Instead of shrinking away, you arch your back almost imperceptibly towards his hands. Steve definitely notices.

“Ohhhh,” he says teasingly. “Or does the tutor want to learn a thing or two from the student?” His voice is lilting and light, but his eyes are dark. You look away for a second before looking back at him. Eyes the tentative. Nod small. Steve nods back along with you. “Okay then. We’ll first of all, we have to have the right workspace, don’t we?”

When you nod, Steve surprises you by standing up and swiping all the books, papers, and writing utensils off the dining room table and onto the ground in one broad sweep of his arm.

“Steve!” you squeal out in surprise, slapping a hand over your mouth. You know his parents are out of town and the two of you are alone, but when he grabs you and manhandled you to sit on the table, you suppress the startled shriek that tries to come out. Steve pulls you to the edge of the table and bullies his way between your legs, your thighs bracketing his hips. Steve’s hands return to the buttons of your dress.

“Then we have to gather the right materials. See what we’re working with, right?” He pauses, looking at you for confirmation as if you have any idea what he’s saying. You nod mindlessly and Steve proceeds to rip open the last few buttons, exposing your bra clad breasts. He hums in satisfaction as you cringe in embarrassment over the exposure. But all embarrassment leaves you when his big hands close over your breasts, squeezing and groping appreciatively.

“Mmmm yeah. These’ll do,” Steve hums before leaning in and kissing over where they swell out of their cups from the squeeze of his strong hands. You gasp when he yanks the bra down to expose them fully. Steve’s brows life. “These tits’ll definitely do.”

Next thing you know, Steve is kissing and sucking his way from one breast to the other, leaving you a twitching mess in his arms. You feel a hardness press into your apex beneath the skirt of your dress and it occurs to you that he’s turned on just like you are. Which is a stupid thought since he’s literally sucking hickeys all over you right now, but your lust addled mind can still barely comprehend that this is happening right now.

When you begin rolling your hips into that hardness, Steve takes notice.

Pulling back, lips wet, he grins at you.

“Me playing with these tits not enough for you?” he asks, one hand still fondling your breast. Lucky for you, he doesn’t seem interested in a reply. Instead he flips your skirt up, showing the dark wet patch that’s bloomed in your panties and - more importantly - the erection clear in his tight jeans. “That’s alright. It’s not enough for me either.”

You blink slowly as you watch him grind his hard on against your clothed pussy. The friction catches on your clit and you gasp, unable to take your eyes off the outline of the shape pressing against you. Steve takes your hand and brings it down between your bodies, squeezing to make you grip his cock.

“Feel that? You did this to me,” he says, almost accusatory if not for the chuckle. A possessive thrill of pride runs down your spine and you squeeze at him, making him grunt in appreciation. Steve looks up at you from beneath his lashes in a faux display of boyishness. “Gonna help me out here?”

You nod feverishly.

“Yes…I…please–,” is all you manage to get out before Steve’s mouth is on you. The kiss is deep and possessive and aggressive and you feel absolutely devoured. His hands feel like they are everywhere at once, paradoxically, as he pulls at you and grips you and grabs you. So distracted see you by his mouth and tongue that you barely register a moment of cold air hitting between your legs before the warm slide of something hot and thick rubs against your opening.

“Now for the big lesson,” Steve says, the corner of his mouth curving lasciviously. The fat head of his cock teases at your clit, making you sink your nails into his arms. He’s big. Huge even. And that’s the last thought you have before he’s begin to slide himself inside you, splitting you open.

“Steve!” It comes out in a rush with all the air he punches out of you with the penetration. Steve kisses your neck and hums.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.”

He bottoms out and there’s nothing but your ragged breaths to fill the silence for a moment before he’s pulling out, causing you to reel again.

“I know it’s big, baby, I know,” he coos. The taunting cockiness should put you off, but for some reason it heats you up even more. One his hands finds your clit and you let out a moan at the expert circles he begins to rub in.

Your walls relax with the stimulation, and your increasing wetness makes it easy for Steve to begin fucking you in earnest.

“Taking it so well, baby. Fuck.”

His words ring in your ears and it feels like everything begins and ends with Steve in your line of sight.

“Oh…oh…” you moan with each inward stroke. You’re rocketing towards a climax better than your most lavish fantasies.

Steve Harrington is fucking you. On his dining room table.

Your arms are around his neck, but eventually he pushes you down so your back is flat against the wooden surface. With his hands on your hips, Steve holds you steady so he can piston his hips at a break neck speed. Your entire body rocks against the table, Steve’s eyes focused on the bounce of your breasts with the force of each thrust.

“This is so much better than homework, fuck!” he groans out. You let out a breathless laugh at that and Steve looks down at you. “This is what you wanted, right? For me to fuck you all this time?”

The embarrassment surges up again but he hits a spot deep down inside that makes you whine instead. Steve takes it as confirmation.

“Bet you’ve been wet every time you’ve come over here. Just hoping I’d fuck this - fuck. This tight little pussy.”

“Yes. Yes, Steve.”

“Yes, Steve,” Steve mimics your pathetic, breathy confession. He’s close himself now, and his fingers are sure to leave bruises from the force of him squeezing you. “Next time I should just bend you over while you’re doing my work and fuck you. How’s that sound?”

You don’t say anything, too far gone at this point, and Steve laughs.

“Probably wouldn’t be able to keep doing my work with my cock in you. Makes you too brainless apparently.”

You’re practically drooling as you gaze up at him with hazy eyes, seconds from your orgasm. You being so out of it is what’s doing it most for Steve.

“Christ, look at you. Smartest girl in school and here you are, fucked stupid. It’s so. Fucking. Hot.”

And you - someone who until today had never been called hot ever - find yourself breaking into a million pieces with his words. Your orgasm crashes over you and you spasm around him, back arching off the table as you let out a massive cry.

~*~

Over time you are able to build up to a point where you don’t go as brainless. Eventually you’re able to kind of still do his homework as Steve fucks you.

But inevitably during every tutoring session there comes a point where Steve hits that place inside you just right, and his filthy words filter into your ear - and you go dumb.

Just the way he likes it.

~*~

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Hope you enjoyed! Please reblog and comment to let me know!

Read Part 2

[meo-on-prairie]

Deserve Better

Prompt: After a shitty breakup, involving a douchebag of an ex, who makes you realize he never loved you to begin with. You went to your best friends for comfort, but instead of telling you “you deserve better”, they show you the best you deserve. 

Word count: 1786

Tags: FLUFF, a tablespoon of Angst, hurt and comfort, Gojo and Getou being sweetest boys, satosugu established, satorugu x reader not yet, mention of: manipulation and love bombing.

Rambling: This is an extremely self-indulgence fic, heavily inspired by my shitty ex lmao. I just wanna be sandwich between Gojo and Getou to comfort my angry heart :((. This is a mini series, I wanna able to make this series to be compose of a bunch of stand-alone fics that merge together. This is my first time writing after a long while so… 

//////

“He was a pathetic liar!” you shout as soon as Suguru opens the door. Tears are streaming down your faces and you can’t seem to make them stop. The sight of your face full of anger and sorrow quite nearly broke Suguru’s heart. Oh, how he wished he could erase your pain. Not make your pain go away, no, he wanted to erase it from your life completely.

Satoru walks toward the door after hearing the loud commotion, “what did he do this time?” he said knowing exactly who was responsible for your tears. With all honesty, Satoru is only asking for your sake, if he could have it his way, violence is always the answer.

Satoru and Suguru are used to this, it’s been 2 years of this clockwork. Ever Since you start dating your pathetic boyfriend, Anthon, it been a cycle of you venting to them about your relationship problem, them telling you to break up with the fucker, and you “work it out” with the douchebag, who can only tell lies and empty promises, the next day and all is good for about 1 month. It’s the same cycle of them clearly seeing that you are being manipulated, yet unable to do anything. But then again, what can they do? They’re only your friends, nothing more even if they want to be more, and as friends, the only thing they can do is be there for you.

Anthon was your first love, your glasses were not tinted, it was dyed rose-pink. You loved him with everything you got, always there to support him mentally, emotionally, and even sometimes financially. In return, he would love-bomb you with constant, nonstop, overly cheesy affectionate words. He also made a lot of promises to you: of marriage, of spoiling you, of being a better man for you, of being faithful to you; all of which are empty and meaningless in hindsight. They’re so meaningless in fact that it led you to break-up with him 2 weeks ago.

You were tired of his empty words, so you laid down your boundary, you told him you would never want to marry someone who refuses to find a job to support themselves. His answer? “Why can’t you be nicer about these things? Your words cut deep”. Anthon was a man of nothing, he had nothing but his words, and even then he couldn't even keep them. But you loved him, so you put it all aside, all his actions, all his shortcomings, his unwillingness to change for himself; you put it all aside and waited with baited breath, surely, surely…. Surely he’ll do as he said. He never did. 

“Come in first, the night is cold, I don’t want you to get sick” Suguru ushers you through the door and into their apartment. As Suguru guided you toward their living room, Satoru went into the kitchen to grab some tissues, water, and something for you to eat your feelings away. 

As soon as your body touched the soft velvet material of their couch, you crumbled into Suguru’s arms. He pulls you in closer to his body as yours shakes and heaves, you two sit like that for what feels like an eternity as you let the tears that carry your pain and sorrows fall from your eyes. Your hands balls up Suguru’s shirt as you cry in his embrace, you try to control your sob but it only makes your body shakes harder, almost hyperventilating.

“Shhhh, take your time, let it out. I’m here… we’re here… we’re not goin’ anywhere”

“He said he loves me! He said he wanted to marry me! And not even 2 weeks after our breakup, he’s getting his dick wet and telling another girl he loves her!” you choked out in anguish, still in denial that any of this is real.

“How did you find out about that?” Satoru asked, carrying a tray full of food; after hearing your sobs, he decided that a few snacks wasn’t going to cut it. 

“Because the fucker doesn’t even have the decency to keep it private, he been posting her all over his social media!” you swipe out your phone in frustration, pulling up Anthon’s account to show your two best friends the picture of your ex and the girl sitting on his lap, kissing. 

They both make a face when you show them the picture, “gross” they said in unison as Satoru places the tray on the table and sits down on your other side.

“I’m just so angry, I can’t believe I wasted 2 years loving someone who never was truthful to me! How can I be so stupid?” your tears are boiling hot, they feel like acid on your skin.

“Hey, hey, look at me, you’re not stupid for simply loving someone.” Satoru cups your face with his hands, nudging you to face him, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. You close your eyes and feel the warmth of his hands. It’s comforting to be held so gently.

“That’s right, don’t shame yourself for being strong enough to love someone with all you got. That’s a strength, not a weakness.” Suguru agrees, pulling a couple of tissues from the box and handing it to you. 

You take the tissues from him to wipe away the tears and blow your nose, it was getting a little hard to breathe from crying, “Thank you… It just hurt realizing that even though I loved him, he never loved me; at least, I don’t think someone who loves me would go out of their way to hurt me like this. Him posting her and rubbing it in my face not even 2 weeks later makes me feel like… I just wasn't worth loving…”

“You’re right, someone that loves you wouldn’t hurt you like he did. But that doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. To us, you’re worth all the love this world has to offer…” Suguru whispers, placing his hand on your shoulder, and he means it. God, does he mean it. Satoru can see it in his partner’s eyes, the same feelings he has.

Satoru and Suguru have loved each other deeply since they were kids, but they always feel something is missing in their relationship. When you walt into their life when they were 15 through the door call “physic group project”, they thought something was wrong with them. They still very clearly love each other, their love is still burning, but their hearts forget how to beat when you smile at them.

How can they not fall for you? You’re kind, so kind you would push aside your shyness and discomfort to help those that need it. You’re intelligent, you quite literally carried them through that physics group project. And dear god, the way you just fit perfectly into their dynamic makes them realize very quickly that they desperately want you to be a part of their life. So desperately, they couldn’t bring themselves to tell you about their feelings in fear of scaring you away from them forever.

“Tell you what? Let’s watch some true crime documentary that you like so much since you’re secretly a sociopath, maybe they’ll give you the inspiration of what to do for revenge?” Satoru said with a smirk.

“If inspiration striked you, we’ll be your executioners.” Suguru added, smiling in relief seeing that you're feeling better after letting it all out. You let out a small giggle and nod. 

Satoru turns on the TV and searches for “Unsolved” while Suguru goes to grab the three of you a blanket. When Suguru comes back with the blanket, you get comfortable cuddling between the two of them on the couch. Between Satoru’s jokes about how if he was the detective case wouldn’t have gone cold, and Suguru’s soft chuckles of ‘sure babe’ at his boyfriend’s comment,you start to feel a lot better. 

You have always felt the most at home with them. It felt natural to be with them, Satoru’s humor brings laughter into your day, Suguru’s gentleness makes you feel safe. They ground you. You’re starting to wonder why you were even with the dirtbag when you have best friends who show you how you should be treated. But before you can think more on that, drowsiness takes over you.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. With how hard you were crying and the emotional turmoil you experienced, it would be more surprising if you stayed awake. Satoru looks over to the sight of your sleeping face. He squeezed Suguru’s hand he been holding behind you on the headrest of the couch.

Suguru looks over at Satoru and notices where his gaze was directed at. “I don’t want to see her like that again. She deserves all the sunshines life has got to offer, not heartbreak” Satoru whispered softly. 

“Do… you think⸻” Suguru started

“Yeah.” 

It’s a silent agreement between them. They’re done with watching you on the sideline. They’re done with seeing you in pain. They don’t want to be afraid of losing you anymore if it means they have to leave your happiness in the hands of some other dudes that’s not them. In the hands of someone that doesn’t know how to cherish it like they do. 

Suguru gives Satoru’s hand 3 long squeezes, I love you. A soft and silent affection flows between them. You always joke that they’re each other's twin flames due to how they seem to be sharing the same soul; their ideology, way of thinking, even how they feel. They’re so similar despite different personalities it’s uncanny. But they think that if they’re each other’s twin flame, then you would be their soulmate. 

They let go of each other's hands so Satoru can carry you into their guest’s room. Well, they call it that but the color and decorations they have in it are all catered to your liking, plus no one beside you ever stays the night anyway. 

Suguru opens the door to the room for Satoru. They laid you down and tucked you in. 

Suguru went into the bathroom to get a damp face towel. He softly wipes away your streaks of tears so you can sleep comfortably without feeling the stickiness from your tears. 

They closed the door as quietly as possible so they don’t wake you, not before glancing at you one last time. 

Looking at each other, eyes full of love and determination, they silently vow to each other. They’re going to make you fall, sweep you right off your feet. They’ll treat you like you’re their most prized treasure. You’ll fall for them so hard, you’ll forget you’ve ever loved anyone but them.

[myerssimp21]

Batcave Meeting (YAN!Pt.3)

Romantic!Yandere!Batfam Part 3. Part 1, Part 2 here (context: Tim Drake purposefully got aphrodisiac'd when fighting Ivy and then went over to Darling's apartment to smash. This is a batfamily meeting about that and how to move forward.).

As you obliviously drifted to sleep, the live feed of you doing so was being projected onto a big screen in the BatCave while members joined together at a table, casually watching you as you yawned and readjusted against your pillow. The imposing man situated at the end of the table clasped his hands together, regarding the young men in front of him. Once everyone was seated, the imposing man began speaking to them, noticing how many of them had their eyes glued to the screen.

"We're going to discuss what happened the other day and plan for next week," he announced, and the pouty brunette who had had a frown on his face now crossed his arms.

"Allow me to explain it from my perspective first, Father," he said, sporting a moody expression, "You and Drake were unexpectedly out of commission during your patrol, which, while not typical, is understandable given our line of work."

His eyes flicker over to Tim and Jason, narrowing in contempt and disgust.

"Todd and Drake both know how important our duty to Gotham is," Damian continued while making eye contact with Jason, "But instead of prioritizing that, they let their impulses get the better of them. Drake especially for instigating the situation. Using Ivy's aphrodisiac to... indulge with our darling? It's selfish, reckless, and disrespectful."

"Damian, hold on a second," Jason interjected, "I had no idea about the aphrodisiac. It was my night off so I was sleeping in and missed Bruce's calls when he and Tim got doused in it. I only woke up because the audio feed from her apartment was turned up and I heard them together. I blew up Tim's phone and went over when he left because I was pissed, and I didn't realize that was why she couldn't get enough. I feel really bad about it now that I know."

Damian's expression softened subtly as he absorbed Jason's explanation. Despite his composed demeanor, the tension still lingered in his features.

"I appreciate your honesty, Todd," Damian conceded, his tone slightly softer, "It's still not acceptable that she was acting strangely and this was not analyzed, but I understand that the situation was...unconventional."

As Jason and Damian had a moment of newfound comradery, Tim finally spoke up, "I understand your frustrations, but you need to know that I researched Ivy's aphrodisiac extensively before I ever considered using it. I made sure it wouldn't have any adverse health effects on anybody and appropriately calculated the risks."

Damian's expression darkened further, his negative feelings towards Drake beginning to truly show. "This isn't just about general safety or the safety of some substance!" he exclaimed, "It's about respect and her consent. You had no right to manipulate her like that, whether or not it posed a physical risk."

"Come on, Damian," Tim retorted, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "She didn't find out about the aphrodisiac, did she? So what's the big deal? It's not like we hurt her or anything. She's fine, and she doesn't even know what happened. In fact, she likes us even more because I made a move for us. Why are you making a big deal out of nothing?"

Jason scoffed, his distaste in Tim at this point evident. "Seriously, Tim? You're gonna act like a douchebag just because she didn't find out? That's messed up, even for you."

"It's not just about the immediate consequences," Damian shot back, his voice angrier. "It's about the long-term impact on her. I bet you didn't even stop to consider how your actions could affect her, or how they could undermine the trust she has in us. And what about the ripple effect it could have on her relationships with all of us? He's playing with fire, Father, and he needs to be held accountable."

"Let's not overlook the bigger issue here," Tim said, his voice defensive, "What I did was perverted, I admit that. But let's not pretend that bugging and wiring her apartment is any less invasive. That's hardly consensual either."

"Don't you dare deflect the issue!" Damian's voice rose, and he was now yelling, "We implemented those measures for her safety, not for our own entertainment! It's a gross violation of her privacy, but at least we did it to protect her!"

"Oh? And having two separate cameras staring at her bed is going to what, protect her from bad dreams?"

"Dami, Tim, let's try to keep our cool here," Dick interjected gently, easing in to defuse the tension, "We're all on the same team, remember? We need to work together to figure this out."

Damian turned to Dick with a measured gaze, "I want to hear your perspective on this matter, Grayson."

Dick sighed, solemnly addressing Drake. “Tim, what you did wasn't just a mistake. It was a deliberate breach of trust. She relies on us to keep her safe and instead of focusing on that, you exploited her vulnerability.”

"Also," and Dick seemed more pained at this part, "You betrayed our trust. We all care about her and you influenced her desires for your own gain."

Tim sat in silence, his expression filled with shame as he began to realize the gravity of his actions. He knew he had acted irresponsibly, and the weight of their words hung heavy in the air. Jason and Dick exchanged silent glances, their disappointment evident in their expressions.

Damian took a deep centering breath before focusing his attention back on Tim.

"This isn't about whether she found out or not, Drake. If you still don't understand that, then we need to take more drastic measures to address and punish this behavior. Father, I appeal to you to implement anything you deem necessary to prevent such behavior in the future. We cannot allow such indecent actions against her to to be repeated."

Bruce, understanding the severity of the situation and having now heard everyone's perspective, nodded solemnly at Damian.

"Tim, in light of your actions, there are going to be some consequences," Bruce stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You need to schedule therapy with Dr. Thompkins to address the troubling attitude that led to this situation. While we have taken invasive measures to monitor her, as Damian pointed out, your actions went beyond that."

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in before continuing. "Until you've attended and Dr. Thompkins deems it appropriate, you will be restricted from having any contact with _____."

Finally, Bruce's gaze softened slightly as he looked at both Damian and Tim. "And Tim, it's imperative that you and Damian eventually reconcile. We're a team, and we need to remain united in our goals and overall behavior. I expect both of you to work towards rebuilding your relationship for the sake of the team and our darling."

"Damian," Bruce addressed his son, "since Tim will no longer be able to have contact with her, I'm assigning you a new responsibility. You will substitute him as her school friend and be someone she can rely on for assistance with homework and company. I want you to pick a class of hers that sounds interesting to you and make sure you're there to support her. It's important that she has someone she can trust and rely on, especially now. It's an opportunity for you to show her that she can count on us."

As the meeting continued, Damian spoke up, "I'll join her art class. It will allow me to assist her with her assignments and ensure she receives the academic support she needs."

Bruce nodded in approval. "Good choice, Damian. Make sure to approach this responsibility with care and dedication."

Turning to Jason, Bruce's expression grew serious. "Jason, I need you to be especially understanding and supportive towards her. If she feels troubled or has any lingering negative thoughts about what happened, I expect you to be there for her."

"Of course, Bruce," Jason says, eyes fixated on the now-sleeping figure of their darling on the cameras, "I'll do whatever it takes."

Dick now spoke up, "Can we talk about introducing me as Jason's roommate?"

Bruce shook his head, "Not yet; I want to make sure Damian successfully integrates first. You can still frequent around her job but no more interactions than that."

"Except for as a vigilante?" Dick replies hopefully, and Bruce gives him a measured gaze similar to his son's.

"Yes, although I expect you to exercise patience and primarily work in Blüdhaven for now."

Damian cuts in, "And don't be like Drake and fabricate a reason for her to need you."

"Damian," Bruce says in a tired voice, "I've made myself clear."

Damian looks down with an expression like he's biting his tongue and contempt is bright in his eyes, "Sorry, Father."

With that, the meeting concluded, each member of the Batfamily knowing the roles they had to play in ensuring their darling's well-being and trust remained intact.

[pupyuj]

→ “magic words.” || jang wonyoung x reader fic.

— what was supposed to be a simple tutoring session turns into something more when the most popular student in the campus, jang wonyoung, opts to teach you a completely different lesson...

word count: 4.7k.

dynamic: dom!mean girl!jang wonyoung x sub!nerd!virgin!reader.

content warnings: smut, praise kink, mommy kink, overstimulation, semi-exhibitionism, fingering, begging.

requested ? : nope.

a/n: this one has some sort of a plot so it takes a while to get to the smut part,, hope this one was okay! (jang wonyoung pls marry me.)

next: your colorful secrets.

jang wonyoung was late.

you didn’t know why you were even disappointed. what did you expect from someone with her social status? rich, popular, and a bit of a snob… which was why it was a surprise when you managed to convince her to help you study for an english project. you really didn’t know how you did it. when your professor had told you that being aided by someone who was near fluent in the language could help, the only person that came to mind was wonyoung. she studied abroad once, has the top grades in class, and still looked somewhat more approachable than aeri uchinaga (the other student that could’ve helped you).

or maybe it was just your big dumb crush on the campus princess that willed you to talk to her on that miraculous day, but that’s completely unrelated to your current dilemma.

after five more minutes of waiting, you started feel disheartened. what if she was just playing a joke on you? it’s not like wonyoung was an angel; you’ve heard horror stories about some of the fucked up shit she has done in her time in the campus and even before that. so there was definitely a possibility that she tricked you into believing that she was truly into the idea of spending time with who was essentially a nobody, like you.

ten minutes passed, now you were just really, really sad. but your pride was too big, you didn’t want to walk out of that room looking heartbroken. what if wonyoung and her douchebag friends were waiting on the other side to laugh at you? you shuddered at the idea. you already face so much humiliation and scrutiny from being different than everyone else in this school when really they should be all like you: hardworking, passionate, and actually try to give a fuck about their studies instead of just partying every weekend.

twenty minutes later, well — you were nearly passed out. you rested your head on your arms, blinking sleepily at the lights that you dimmed slightly earlier. you decided that you were going to take a short nap, and then you’ll get to work on your own. screw wonyoung and her joke promises. you were hoping that the rumors weren’t true, that people just made them up because they were jealous of her and her money, her brains, and that pretty little face and those beauty marks and those unnecessarily attractive slender fingers. but she really is just like everyone else.

needless to say, you fell asleep. and you don’t exactly know for how long, because when you were shaken awake by someone, your head was seemingly in another dimension. you lifted your head from your arms and yawned softly, earning a laugh from whoever it was that woke you up. you rubbed your eyes, blinked, and tried to identify the person standing by the side of your desk and— oh, shit.

“w-wonyoung?” you asked with your eyes wide, staring at the tall, gorgeous girl clad in expensive attire that smiled down at you. were you dreaming about her again?

“the one and only,” jang wonyoung takes off her jacket and folds it neatly, putting it on one of the unoccupied seats across the table. “i know i’m super late. i had to find a real reason to come here other than, you know, just for shits and giggles. you should thank gaeul-sunbae for talking some sense into me.” oh. she couldn’t have said that in a nicer way?

“okay…” you murmured, nervously picking on the lint on your clothes for no reason.

wonyoung settles herself beside you, sipping on a cup of iced coffee. she slides a full cup to your side of the table, “that should wake you up.”

“you didn’t have to get me one…” you replied timidly but accepting the cup nonetheless.

“oh, i didn’t. gaeul-sunbae got that for you and told me to give it to you because apparently, it was the least i could do for making you wait for over an hour. huh,” wonyoung puts down her cup, leaned back on her chair, and looked at you, smirking. you tried your hardest not to blush at the way her eyes completely raked over your figure. you shifted uncomfortably on your seat, suddenly finding your skirt too short or your uniform too tight. “maybe she has a crush on you. ha! well, that’s quite a jump. from that hot soccer captain in that other university, ahn yujin-ssi, to you.” wonyoung giggles.

god, really? you held back the urge to groan, or roll your eyes, and just smiled awkwardly at her. you were seriously regretting having that dumb crush on her. she was pretty, but her mouth and the things that come out of it made it hard to truly like her.

“i doubt that…” you said, picking up your pen and opening up a novel. the very same novel you had a hard time understanding, and the very same novel that you hoped wonyoung would help you understand but that didn’t seem likely now. seeing that all she wants to do is insult you.

wonyoung doesn’t say anything else, merely fishing out her phone from her bag and silently scrolling up, completely forgetting the reason she was here in the first place. you sighed, tired eyes skimming through the words in your novel. every single word you read just went over your head, and you really hoped wonyoung would notice how helpless you looked but she was… well, she was taking photos of herself. you took your eyes off your novel to do nothing but stare at her. truthfully, you would also drop everything to take photos of yourself if you were wonyoung because she did look particularly good in this day.

“why do you even need me? you’re supposed to be super smart. aren’t you on scholarship at this school?” wonyoung suddenly asked while still posing. you flinched, immediately turning back on your novel in hopes that wonyoung wouldn’t know that you have been staring this entire time. 

(she did. but whatever. everybody stares at her.)

“t-that’s exactly why i need you, though,” you said. wonyoung chuckles. you blushed at what your words may have implied. “i want to keep that scholarship, but i-i’m not that very good at english and you’re… you’re great so i thought you could help…”

wonyoung closes her phone and puts it down, “well, aren’t you adorable. i kinda get why gaeul-sunbae is obsessed with you. don’t tell her i said that.” were you some kind of inside joke between her and gaeul or something? you doubted that the popular senior actually gave a damn about you, so maybe wonyoung was just pulling words out of her perfectly fine ass.

you really needed to stop talking like that.

“don’t start crying now. i’ll help.” wonyoung brings her chair closer to yours. maybe a bit too close for your liking, but her perfume calmed your senses so you appreciated the lack of respectable distance nonetheless. she takes your novel from your hands and without a word, she examines it. the front cover, the back, the first few pages, and the chapter you were reading. you watched intently as she did her work, and you couldn’t hold back squirming in your seat because of course jang wonyoung looks fucking hot when she starts taking things seriously.

her eyes flicker back onto yours and she catches you staring. you didn’t even make an effort to look away. it was too late anyway. wonyoung wordlessly stared back at you, eyes completely devoid of emotion so you couldn’t tell whether she was annoyed of you for staring or not.

“this isn’t what we’re studying in class.” wonyoung said.

“n-no. i’m reading it for myself. i want to write a thesis on it.”

“a what? so, you’re saying you’re doing this for fun? you have that much time?” wonyoung looks at you in disbelief. she puts down your book, almost offended at this reveal.

“that’s how i study. if i can’t prove to myself that i understand whatever i’m doing then i pretty much failed at that subject.” you confessed.

wonyoung groans, throwing her head back. you stared shamelessly at the curve of her neck, and had this sudden urge to kiss her. what the fuck. “i thought you were going to write a dissertation with how you made this whole thing sound so urgent yesterday. turns out it’s just a cute little project, and for yourself! you’re wasting my time, you know.” the tall girl said.

again, you felt sad. you grabbed the book from her side of the table and pouted as you looked at the cover, “w-well, you’re free to leave if that’s what you think…”

“you won’t cry?” wonyoung asked. you took note of the teasing evident in her voice and rolled your eyes.

“why would i—”

you looked at her and found your words getting stuck to your throat. it was weird, because wonyoung was literally just sitting there and yet she looked so… there's really no other way to put it in your lovesick little head. wonyoung looked regal. arms crossed, sly smile, eyes shining with mischief, and one long leg crossed over the other, hiking up her skirt just a little. you immediately looked away, but you were too late. wonyoung knew exactly where you were looking at.

“oh, i see,” wonyoung giggles and leaned forward, propping her arm up on the table and putting her chin on her palm. you avoided her stare, but you couldn't hide your red ears. “gaeul-sunbae’s gonna be really disappointed to hear about this.”

“please, stop with that. gaeul-sunbaenim is not interested in me.” you say in an attempt to divert her attention.

well, much to your dismay, wonyoung wouldn’t let up just like that. she completely disregards what you were saying. “i guess you’re kinda cute. in an almost pitiful way.” she says, eyes examining your features way too intently. “intelligent, decent, and you don’t dress that bad…” the tall girl continues on, taking note of the accessories you have on your wrists, neck, and hair.

you really didn’t know if she expected you to thank her.

“i’d say innocent too, but that's not all true, is it?” wonyoung moves closer, her perfume once again wafting into your nose and nearly intoxicating you. she places a pretty hand on your thigh, smirking at the way you flinched and hid behind your book. “since i’ve lost interest in whatever you actually want to do, how about we do something that’s actually worth my time?” she says, prying your book off of your hands and putting it on the table.

“i-i can’t skip classes. i was serious when i told you that i want to keep my scholarship—”

“don’t worry. you won’t be stepping a foot outside of your beloved school for this activity.”

see, there were a lot of things that you didn’t believe were true in the world. one of them being your brother allegedly not being free earlier this morning to give you a ride to school because he had something important to do, when you knew he just wanted to play video games until he had to leave for his classes. and now, you have something you can add on the list: jang wonyoung kissing you.

you were waiting to be woken up again, convinced that this was all just a very detailed and prolonged dream. but wonyoung bites your lower lip and nothing happens. other than you moaning softly, obviously.

“i knew you’d like this.” wonyoung mutters before grabbing you by your necktie and pulling you closer. her tongue tasted like coffee, mint, and peaches, and her lips were so, so soft. you were on cloud nine; how many people can say their totally unattainable crush kissed them first?

still, despite liking wonyoung’s lips and the warm feeling on your chest, you couldn’t help but gasp and move away once her hand squeezed your breast.

“what?” wonyoung asked, a bit annoyed.

“w-what are you doing?” you asked back, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“...trying to fuck you? i don’t understand what was so misleading about my intent there.” wonyoung says, looking at you like you were the crazy one.

“how is sex so casual to you and your friends…?” you mumbled. you said all that but the thought of wonyoung touching you like that made you feel certain things in your lower region that you really did not want to know about. or maybe you did, but you were just terrified.

wonyoung, utterly confused, quirked up an eyebrow. “why wouldn’t it be to you? wait,” the tall girl takes another second to look at your bright red cheeks, and the way you squeezed your thighs together presumably to calm that feeling in your core. and then she laughs. “of fucking course, you’re a virgin.”

having your crush find out that you haven’t been touched all your life and laugh at your face about it was not in your bingo card.

“that’s putting it lightly… you’re even my first kiss.” you admitted. you absentmindedly touched your lips with your fingers, smiling as you remembered the way wonyoung’s felt when she had been kissing you.

the tall girl stares at you, there was a softer look in her eyes that made you melt. “ugh, you really are fucking cute. you’re making me feel really bad about poking fun at you earlier.” (and that was definitely new. jang wonyoung never feels bad.)

you shrugged, simply accepting that that was her personality, as brutally honest as she was. you started packing up your things half-heartedly after minutes of silence. a part of you was mad at yourself for cutting off that kiss earlier. maybe you would still be kissing wonyoung right now if you hadn’t stopped her, or maybe you’d be doing something more.

“where are you going?” wonyoung asked, looking up at you since you were now standing.

you pulled at your uniform, “y-you said this was a waste of your time so… i think i’ll just study on my own. t-thank you, though. for the coffee and… that other thing.”

just as you made a step towards the door, wonyoung stands up and catches your wrist in a tight grip. “you’re killing me, (y/n).” wonyoung muttered. she pulls you close, which causes you to drop your bag to the ground and nearly crash into her.

“because you’ve somehow managed to make me feel soft inside, you’re getting laid.”

“i’m getting what—”

“i’m gonna fuck you, (y/n). seriously, what era are you from?”

and with that, wonyoung kisses you again. she wasn’t as gentle as before. her hands were on your hair, tugging and pulling. you didn’t know where to put your hands exactly, but wonyoung noticed this somehow took one of your hands with her own and placed it on her hip. you tried to keep up with her as much as you could, not at all aware of how messy you really were with the way you kissed.

unsurprisingly, wonyoung was annoyed at this and pulled away, “this isn’t a slobbering competition. can you calm down?” she says.

“i can’t. i really like you—”

“fuck. you’re pathetic.” she kisses you again, and you really didn’t know if you should have felt insulted or flattered. a part of you wanted to see how far you could go, this was a once in a lifetime kind of thing after all, so this time around you actually tried kissing her better. wonyoung moves, she’s got your lower back pressed against the desk and her hands on either side of you while you hold her face. she lets you control the kiss, smiling slightly since she found you so, so endearing.

wonyoung sneaks a leg in between your thighs and presses her knee against your buzzing core, making you moan into her mouth. she takes off your school-issued blazer and throws it mindlessly in some unknown corner, then she takes your necktie and slowly tugs you towards the small couch in the room, all while keeping her lips on yours. she unfortunately breaks the kiss and sat down on the soft cushion, leaving you standing in front of her, confused and out of breath.

wonyoung leans back on the couch, smirking, “come on, baby. give me a show.”

you didn’t know what she meant, and you were too afraid of turning her off by asking. but by the way she licked her lips as her eyes scanned you up and down, you just did the next best thing you could’ve thought of doing. you pulled off your necktie and you must’ve done something right because wonyoung’s smirk only widened, urging you to continue on undressing yourself. next, you started unbuttoning your white shirt, revealing your silky cream-colored bra. and finally, you pulled off your panties, just so you wouldn’t have a hard time doing it later.

wonyoung was more of an open book than you expected because it was quite easy to tell that she really like what she was seeing.

patting her lap, wonyoung beckons you over, “sit.” she said. you let your shirt fall to the floor and did as you were told, settling yourself on the taller girl’s lap. you shuddered at the feeling of her thigh against your bare cunt, and fought the urge to ride her.

“it’s always the quiet and nerdy girls like you, hm? hiding all of this behind a book and some straight A’s…” wonyoung’s pretty hands explore your body; from your back, your chest, your stomach, and to your thighs. she enjoyed the way you shivered and slightly moved yourself, desperate for some friction in that area. she plants a small kiss on your collarbone before smiling up at you and attacking your neck. she sneaks a hand underneath your skirt and palms your dripping pussy, her long fingers parting your folds and her thumb just barely brushing your clit.

your soft moans filled the air as wonyoung marks you up. she favored your chest, leaving hickies all over it. she leans back, staring at her work proudly. you took her face in your hands, tilting her head up slightly and then putting your lips on hers. you could feel her smiling as she kissed you back. she found your enthusiasm entertaining, but she was glad she wouldn’t have to do all the work. you boldly pushed your tongue past her parted lips, bravely exploring her mouth. your heart starts beating erratically upon hearing wonyoung’s muffled moans. her voice was so pretty.

suddenly, wonyoung inserts a finger knuckle deep inside you, making you gasp into her mouth and pull away from her lips. the tall girl laughed, “that caught you off guard?” as if she wasn’t looking directly at your widened eyes and gaping mouth. wonyoung pulls her single finger out slowly and pushes it back in, watching as your face contorted from the tiniest bit of pain you were feeling.

“one more?” she asks, but she doesn’t give you a chance to reply and goes ahead and inserts a second finger, making you whine and hug her. wonyoung giggles against your chest as she quickens her pace, relishing in the feeling of her fingers smoothly going in and out of you. the pain was quick to go away, and soon enough you only felt pleasure.

“you’re so tight, baby,” wonyoung wraps her free arm around your waist to keep you steady. she curls her fingers inside you and you moan loudly in her ear. “i’m glad i got to you first. i guarantee you nobody else can fuck a pretty little thing like you as good as i can.”

wonyoung looks up, staring at your features while you try to keep yourself as quiet as you can. the walls weren’t soundproof after all, and the librarian could very well just open the door and invite herself in to check on the students occupying the room. upon realizing this, you threw a quick glance at the door, worried out of your mind. wonyoung notices and gives you a kiss on the cheek to grab your attention, and she was successful.

“nobody will care. plus, you’re with me. you’ll be fine,” she said. she holds onto your waist tighter as she moves her fingers even faster. you clutched onto her shirt, biting your lip but unsuccessfully holding your moans back. “be as loud as you want, baby. let this whole school know who’s fucking you.”

wonyoung couldn’t even begin to tell you how turned on she was right now. you were falling apart before her eyes, the prim and proper (y/n) (l/n) being reduced to this… and knowing that it was all for her… wonyoung doesn’t know if she could hold herself back from completely ruining you on the spot.

“mmhn… ahh— mommy..! mommyy…”

well, shit.

wonyoung was pleasantly surprised. she chuckles, “what? say that again, love.”

you shook your head, embarrassed. “it… it just—fuck—it just slipped out.. i’m sorry…”

wonyoung presses her thumb on your clit and rubs it roughly, “say it.” you whined loudly. that felt too good.

blinded by pleasure, you fulfill wonyoung’s wish. “m-mommy… mommy, ruin me, please…!” you started moving your hips, meeting wonyoung’s thrusts and somehow it made everything feel better by about a hundred percent.

wonyoung was considerably happy. “good girl. can you take one more?” again, she asks but she doesn’t wait for you to answer. now three of her long fingers were inside you, just completely pounding into you mercilessly. the tall girl watched as you basically fucked yourself into her hand. shit, she could cum by the sight of you alone. you were even more beautiful when you were a mess… wonyoung has to fuck you more after this.

“this is a better look for you… none of that honor student bullshit. don’t you like being fucked stupid like this?” wonyoung says, once again curling her fingers and smirking as you throw your head back in pleasure.

you managed to choke out an answer. “yes, mommy… i do, i do…”

never in your life did you ever expect to be calling your crush, the untouchable jang wonyoung no less, such a nickname and even more so, getting fucked by her in a semi-public setting! you were sure to get weird looks from people who might be outside, and the news will spread like wildfire of course but you didn’t care for any of that. not right now, at least. because why else would you think of anything but the girl who was taking you to the stars?

“feels good, yeah? want more, baby?” wonyoung was saying. she herself was getting her panties soaked the faster you were riding her fingers, but she was going to have to take care of her own problem later. she couldn’t take her eyes off of you, after all.

“mmhn.. more…”

wonyoung clicks her tongue, “magic words.” she brings her hand down to your ass, making you whine.

you immediately comply — you were chasing after something that was unknown to you, but you desperately wanted it. and you knew only wonyoung can help you get there. “p-please, mommy… i want more…” you said, looking directly into wonyoung’s eyes and watching as her pink and plump pillowy-soft lips spread into a satisfied smile.

“mhm. you learn quickly, don’t you? what a good girl.”

fucking hell. did everything that came out of her mouth have to sound so hot?

as promised, wonyoung gives you ‘more’. she shifts herself slightly up on her seat, holds your waist in a death grip and whispers, “put your arms around me.” then, she pulls her long fingers out almost all the way before plunging their full length back inside you, deeper than it has ever gone. the sound that left your mouth loud, dirty, and wonyoung could hear the pain beneath all pleasure. 

she repeats her action, and you finally understood why she told you to hold onto her because holy fuck you were going to fall off her lap. you wrapped your arms around wonyoung’s neck and held her close, screaming into her ear every time she brushes past your sweet spot.

“w-wony.. wonyoung— mommy..! i feel weird… i feel weird, i feel weird…!!”

“shh, shh, it’s okay. it’s supposed to feel like that,” wonyoung starts kissing up your neck again, stopping directly under your jawline and leaving another hickey there. “you’re doing so good, baby. we’re almost done. just hold on for mommy, ‘kay?” she pats your ass, gently rubbing on it to ease the sting that her slap left earlier.

you shook your head, “i c-can’t… stop, stop… please..!” you were feeling too many things at once. you wanted whatever this was all leading up to but it was overwhelming. you wanted it to be over but you wanted to prove something to wonyoung, as if ‘holding on’ for longer like she asked would get you a medal from her or something.

“okay, okay… let go, then. it’s okay…”

wonyoung hits a spot and unexpectedly, the pressure in your stomach tightens and breaks in a second. your entire body stiffened as you came undone on wonyoung’s hand with a long, loud moan mixed with a sob. wonyoung shushes you gently, using her free hand to caress your back. she pulls out her other hand from your cunt, it was completely drenched with your juices.

you leaned back after getting a hold of yourself, albeit only a little, and watched as wonyoung licked her fingers. fuck. what you would give to engrave that moment in your mind.

“feeling alright?” wonyoung asked, brushing your damp hair away from your face with her dry hand. you looked exhausted and fucked out. it was hot. wonyoung’s core was throbbing like crazy. she wanted to get off to you so bad. you nodded weakly at her question, even though you didn’t look and feel ‘okay’. you were feeling a lot of fucking things, that’s what.

“t-thank you…” you said suddenly.

wonyoung tilts her head to the side, “for what?” seriously, you were so cute. with your flushed cheeks, eyes glistening with tears, and hair a big mess.

“...you know what for.” you mumbled, hiding your face in the crook of her neck. wonyoung laughs—music to your ears—and pulls you close by your waist, hugging you and kissing your bare shoulder.

the two of you stayed like that for a while, neither of you saying anything for god knows how long. you would ocassionally lift your head and wonyoung would kiss you, then softly asking if you were okay, or if you needed anything. sometimes, she just looked at you, tugging at your heartstrings and making you wonder just what she was thinking. (‘how come i have never seen you before?’)

eventually, however, it was time for both of you to leave as you had some actual studying to do and wonyoung, well, she has a party to attend. typical.

“hey, i’m giving you my number.” wonyoung says when you finally managed to make yourself look tidy and somewhat presentable. you knew that hickies were all over your neck, but you were too tired to lose your head over them.

“uh, why?” you asked, reluctantly pulling out your phone but not handing it over just yet.

“oh, no reason. i give my number away for free. it’s a thing i do.” wonyoung replies in an exaggerated tone. she snatches your phone from your hands, rolling her eyes at your apparently ridiculous question. her actions reminded you that yes, wonyoung will always be a snob through and through. even after giving you the best fuck of your life.

“ha ha.” you laughed sarcastically. you barely caught your phone when wonyoung mindlessly dropped it on your hands in retaliation. you weren’t going to lie though, having your crush put her number on your phone was a dream come true. you looked at your screen, ready to send wonyoung a quick message so she can save your number when you noticed the name she gave herself.

mommy💘

before you could say anything, wonyoung puts a single finger on your lips and winks, “call me when you need ‘help’ again, baby.”