#you have to keep your nails short and it builds hand and finger strength

[catgirljaneway]

just know that if I see you in my activity going through my star trek content and liking or reblogging like 50 things in a row i'm in love with you and if you ever need someone murdered i will do it no questions asked

[thatone-brightstar]

Before You (Carmen Berzatto X Fem!OC)

It was Isaac before Carmy, and it was Ross before you.

Read part I.

Part II: January.

words: 3.4k

a/n: Thank you all so much for 200+ followers!!! Idk what to do in these situations but I'll celebrate by giving you more Carmy content! Slide into my dms with your prompt ideas and I'll gladly do my best to write what I can! Also: Image does not represent OC's skin type, just needed a summary pic. WARNING: Smut ahead, p in v unprotected sex (birth control is present but not mentioned), minors DNI but you'll do what you want so don't say I didn't warn you

This was not how she expected her New Year to go, dress hiked up to her hips, nails digging into his neck and shaking thighs painfully wrapped around the man continuously slamming into her. The lewd sounds he makes reverberate inside the small depot, echoing back into her dew covered skin and fueling the shivers traveling up and down her spine. Ross has always hated her name, but the way Carmy says it- blissed off his mind, crimson cheeks and pink pouty lips rounding over each syllable and followed by a breathy ’fuck’- god does he make it sound devine. 

Her nails drive deeper into his reddened flesh and the pain of her grip tightens his fingers over the plush skin of her parted thighs. The flimsy fabric that barely covers her navel lets him see himself lost with each thrust, sight replaced with a gripping sensation, choking him with his own air.

There was something cathartically thrilling about their… situation. The sneaking around, the lingering stares each time she crossed to the depot and the tauntingly short uniform that made him visibly gulp. It all brewed thick inside his gut like he’d never known, the warmth of her lips weeks before had shaken the loose earth over his buried desires and there was no way he would get his fill from just the one time. 

Unbeknownst to them, they had fallen into a clandestine rhythm. After closing, Ross would get in her car, drive a few blocks away and wait for Carmen in the warm comfort of the vehicle. Her pulse always quickened in anticipation around the ten minute mark, when she’d spot him in the rear view mirror, blowing smoke into the wind and hair disheveled after a hectic service. The drive to his felt longer each time, anticipation thick and pulsing in the empty space. They could never reach his place though, once she parked on the narrow alley beside his building, his fingers would wrap around the side of her jaw and her breath would be stolen by hungry tobacco scented kisses. She enjoyed the feeling of his needy hands circling her hips and pulling her over him, before his mouth attacked the frail skin of her throat.

But tonight felt different to her. The frustrations of a shitty service had Carmen on edge and he didn’t even give her a chance to leave as she popped her head into the empty kitchen to say goodbye. Instead wrapping his grip around her wrist to drag her into the small room and pinning her against a shelf with the strength of his panting chest. His usual doubtful behavior is replaced by strong and steady thrusts, ones that have the glass olive oil gallons behind her vibrating angrily. Her worry of them braking only lasts a few seconds, soon being pushed out of her mind by the constant pattern of his movements and the tightness inside her that’s beginning to burn.

“Fuck- Ross-” He moans into her neck as he speeds up his slams, breath blowing cold over the sweat on her skin.

The relentless strike of his hips on the base of her thighs paints the sensitive skin with a light shade of pink, causing a hiss from her when he readjusts his grip over the slick flesh.

“S..sorry- you good?” Carmen asks with slight concern, slowing down his movements and gulping the dryness in his mouth.

“Ye-yeah-” She reassures with a panting grin, eyes slightly glossy and mascara staining her bottom lashline. “Keep going, I like it…” 

“Oh.. yeah- right okay.” Her bluntness gives him a blush that matches the underside of her thighs before resuming with a brutal blow, ripping a gasp from her lungs and making her breasts jolt with force.

Ross’ fingers tangle in the sweaty strands of his hair and pull him down to her awaiting lips, licking and nibbling over the delicate skin while his hands dent the muscle of her legs and his actions grow faster each time. With a string of groans pouring from her chest, she does her best to chase his hips with her own, striking a perfect spot each time. Her feet hook tightly at the base of his spine and this restricts his actions into shorter and faster shoves against that specific, beautiful spot that seems to split her in two.

An almost filthy cry bursts out when her orgasm shoots up from deep in her core, sparking in each nerve ending in her body and his hand flies quickly up to it to drown out the obscene sound. The remaining force in his last thrusts carries her back down into her body just in time to feel his fingers dig into her bruised skin. A throaty groan blows heavily over her collar bones before he slumps down completely with heavy inhales. She likes this part, when his shoulders lose tension and the beating of his heart doesn’t palpitate as hard against her chest. 

He pulls out with a soft hiss but rather than make an effort to step away from the momentary comfort she provides, Ross feels his thumb brush gently over the red dents he produced; a clear contrast from a few minutes before. She tries to remain quiet so as to not ruin the moment he seems too caught up in, but his tender touch pulls an invisible string deep inside her and the fear of unwillingness to anything remotely close to a relationship triggers her mouth before she can stop it.

“You’re gonna leave a mark…”

“Hmm?” He pulls his head up to meet her eyes, bright pools of aquamarine absorb the little saliva left in her tongue and she swallows drily again and again.

“Your fingers…” She clears her throat. “They’re, uh, they’re gonna leave a mark.” Though that’s not really what she originally meant.

**********

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me!” 

“No!” Ross groans towards her friend, trailing behind her as they both cross the entrance to the back of house.

The regularly hectic movement in the kitchen seems less so as service isn’t due for another few hours. There’s a thin layer of peace visible in the rounded backs of a few cooks as they ingest family, elbows glued to the long stainless steel tables. Ross moves to the water filter beside Frank’s station, ignorant to the glance he throws her way, but very present in Meg’s eyes as she gasps.

“Wait, was it Frankie? D’you finally cave?” Meg whispers beside her.

“Ugh, gross no. I’d rather stick hot coal in my mouth…”

“Okay, then who?”

Ross rolls her eyes once again. “I’m not telling you, alright?! So just- hop off my dick.” 

“Oh c’mon, he had to be good if he left bruises like that…” 

Meg leans down to inspect the lilac dents peeking ever so slightly from under the hem of her uniform. A hiss leaves Ross’ mouth and she immediately reaches down to swat her friend’s pointed finger off the darkest spot.

“All I’m sayin’ is, every artwork needs the artist’s signature.” Meg grumbles beside her. 

“What artist?” The cook intervenes as he pokes around his own plate.

“Ross has a new boy toy and she won’t tell me who it is…”

She keeps her eyes trained on the slowly filling bottle, trying hard to tune out the teasing from the two idiots behind her.

“Y’know she won’t shut up ‘till you tell her, right?”

“I’m just hoping for her batteries to run out.” She assures with a flat smile, taking a sip from her bottle and leaning on the table in front of her.

“I thought you’d be more interested…” Meg teases, picking a piece of dried tomato from his plate and nibbling it through her smile.

She can see a slight tension in his jaw before he shrugs, eyes heavy on his dish. “We’ll find out eventually…” He answers under his breath, the words making Ross’ brows furrow.

“Meaning…”

Frank sighs and pushes his forearms off the table, finally looking up at her. “I mean- c’mon Ross, we know your type- plus, if it was one of these motherfuckers-” his fork drags pointing at the few cooks in the room. “-which it probably was- you know none of ‘em can keep their fuckin’ trap shut.”

If his comment struck a nerve, left it beaten and pulsing in agony, she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she rolls her eyes one more time and gulps down her water, drowning the many colorful swears with his name written on them. A prickling sensation covers her skin, the grip on her bottle going loose when she catches his persistent gaze falling heavily on her from across the kitchen. It washes over her for a few tender beats, and the water in her bottle no longer seems sufficient to cool the heat his strong stare ignites in her stomach.

Carmy doesn’t mean to stare, his eyes had just wandered, obliviously guided by the source of her vibrant voice, the private conversation not so private in the confinements of the blinding white room. A strange sensation flourished in his chest when Megan mentioned the bruises he had previously apologized ardently for and could hear Frank’s slight annoyance  at them.

He doesn’t dislike Frank per se, he finds him irritating and obnoxious at times sure, but not to the point of hate. Right now however- as he appears completely entranced by her- Carmen can’t help the irritation beginning to course through him from the words he overheard. He knows they’re bullshit- the idea to expose her in such a way had no space inside his mind, Carmy isn’t like that- and with his own eyes roaming her tense features, he hopes that in the few seconds he allows himself to sneak a look, she can catch that. The unspoken assurance that she can trust him to keep whatever they have going on a secret.

“- are you even listening to me?”

Her friend’s voice demands Ross’ attention and he drags his eyes away, setting them back on the paper thin sweet potato slices gliding off the sharp edge of the mandolin.

“What- yeah, um… something about… your hair?”

“No dumbass- your psych exam, how’d it go?”

Despite his heavy attention to the task at hand, his ears can’t help but to tune back into the conversation as her sigh floats thick in the air of the kitchen.

“Failed it again… which is- fine-” She groans and reaches her hands to rub up her face in frustration. “-but that blows my second try so I only have one left or I’ll have to redo the whole course.”

Meg frowns up at her and reaches a hand to stroke over her arm. “You’ll do fine on the last one, I’ll help you study.” She offers with a kind smile. “Next one’s the good one… you’ll see.”

“Yeah… I guess'' Ross replicates her friend’s expression and takes another sip from her bottle, only half heartedly believing her.

“Yeah- we’ll both help you.” Frank adds, reaching his own hand beside Megs, a sly expression turning hers into distaste.

“Chef-” Three heads turn to the far left to see Carmen’s usual serious expression, making Frank immediately straighten his posture. “If you’re done fuckin’ around, that duck amuse in the walk in isn’t gonna confit itself-”

“Yes, Chef- sorry.” 

“Thank you!”

Frank briskly picks up his half finished plate and disappears around the corner with a quick step, barely having time to throw them an irritated expression. 

She feels it before seeing him. Only a wisp of white and blue flashes in her peripheral vision before he disappears behind her, the warmth of his extended digits pressing gently on her lower back and a soft ‘behind’ blowing on her exposed neck.  Ross turns just in time to catch the artist’s eyes lingering on her for a sliver of a second, but it’s more than enough to spread a tingling sensation over the blossoming bruises. She doesn’t notice the change in rhythm inside her chest or the soft sigh that he pulls from her as he moves further away.

Meg’s voice is barely audible behind the thin ringing in her ears and it’s only then that Ross notices she’s been staring down the empty space of the corridor, Carmy long gone.

“What the fuck was that?”

It’d be a blatant lie to say she knew either. The way her hands had suddenly gone all clammy and her stomach had dropped to her knees with a simple touch was not characteristic of her usual hookups. The day prior’s fear resurfaces again and the erratic beating takes another definition as she swallows hard and turns to Meg with a thin lipped smile.

“That was um… the artist.”

**********

Roslyn never wanted a relationship, she didn’t need to be in one to know they were shit. All the effort it took to maintain a façade of contentment and joy just for it all to crumble down into nothing, made every cell in her body recoil in disgust. Besides, nothing ever made her believe in the fairytale and every couple she met while growing up seemed completely tired of each other's company. Why would she ever want to put herself through that most ancient form of torture? For what, just to not be alone? 

Big whoop. She’d been alone most- if not all her life- and from the vast experience could confidently say it wasn’t as bad as people made it seem. Her own company was a hundred times better than some of the questionable creatures she found herself roped with.

Yet, despite all the reminders and admonitions that she ‘wasn’t made for that kind of thing’ and to ‘just leave what isn’t for you alone’, Ross could not contain the tumultuous thoughts banging heavily around her skull. 

The shift had gone by quickly as she spent more than half of it in her head, finally clocking off autopilot once the crisp air brushes past her cheeks at the employee exit. The air comes with the lingering wisp of tobacco. Ross tries to disguise how accustomed she’s grown to the smell, breathing in deep and walking slowly in his direction. She throws a nod to her right, where Carmen stands leaning on a tree.

“Hey…”

“How was your shift?” He asks a bit awkwardly, pushing himself off and dragging his feet beside her.

“Fine, I think-” Ross stops abruptly.”-hey, is it alright if we like, don’t do anything tonight-”

“Oh shit- no I wasn’t here for-”

“It’s just, my head kinda hurts and-”

“Yeah, I get it- I wasn’t-”

 “I also haven’t eaten so-”

“-I can make you some…thing.”

The silence is filled by tension as his words linger heavy in the air. They slipped past his mouth without contemplation and now weigh more with each second she doesn’t respond. Words turn to dust in the back of her throat- scratchy and uncomfortable- while she tries to come up with a lie on why she wouldn’t find it absolutely appealing to be cooked for.

“It’s okay, you spent the whole day cooking- you don’t have to….”

“I don’t mind it.” He’s soon to assure, keeping his eye contact despite the sharp shake of his head.

Her fingers grow sensitive at the constant assault of her nails, she huffs out a small breath of air and looks up at him. She can only hold Carmen’s strong stare for a few seconds, eyes wavering instead on the treetops above his head.

“No one’s ever really made me dinner before.” Ross delicately whispers her confession.

His offer’s dissected in her head for what feels like an eternity while he just waits in place, knuckles cracking at his sides. A slow smile finally covers her face, nodding gently to him.

“Okay…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

He offers what she has come to know is his soft smile, at least what she can see of it under the dim lighting of the street lamp. The clouds of vapor emanating from both their chests pull her from the unintentional staring contest and she makes a following motion to him with her head.

“I-um- I left the car that way.”

“Right- yeah- okay.” Carmy’s nervous stutter widens her grin.

They begin to walk the few blocks in silence, he’s concentrated on the surrounding ambience- second cigarette in hand- while she attempts to ignore the alarms she has strategically set out, all in the name of self-preservation. 

‘It’s just dinner’, she repeats to herself. ‘It doesn’t mean anything’. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” He speaks out, pulling her from her head. “And you can totally tell me to fuck off-”

“Probably will, but shoot-” She adds with a light laugh, tired eyes concentrated on their path.

He contemplates his words for a second, the dim roar of tired engines penetrating their small bubble of peace. 

“So you really hate your job-”

“Ooh, hate is not a strong enough word-”

“-Okay, so you loathe your job-”

“There you go…” Her humorous smile triggers his usual small one, the tiny dimple on his left cheek guest starring just briefly but she takes a short second to admire it fully.

“Why do you stay?”

Ross contemplates his question while she plays with the strap of her bag, debating between the option she’s always used to deflect any sort of question, or to undust and pop the lock on the box where her truths lay hidden.

“Well you see, I have this horrible habit where I have to eat and-”

“Oh, fuck off- I’m serious.” His laugh is brief but genuine and it shudders something deep within her- it vibrates through her ribs and changes the tempo in her chest- an earthquake came and gone. 

A slight sense of panic trails behind her external joy, looming just out of sight but present still. She sighs and gulps the tightness down, turning to the empty street before them.

“I wasn’t supposed to be there this long.” Ross finally confesses loud enough so he can barely hear her. “I'm majoring in psychology…”

“So this is temporary?”

“Yeah…” She sighs again, picking at the gel polish she gets specifically to avoid the bad habit. “It’s supposed to be, but I’ve been trying to get my license and failed my exams twice. I only have one more chance before I have to retake the course all over again.”

He’s silent for a while, staring at the grimey ground and searching his head on what to say. “I was always shitty in school… but maybe I can like, try and help you study? Some say it helps explaining it to someone else.”

Carmy’s voice falls into a whisper with the last sentence and draws her gaze away from her fingers and up to his concentrated one.

The way his attention falls solely on her- eyes never straining far from her own- heightens her senses and chills her skin past the warmth of her coat. All she can muster is a thin smile, because anything bigger would trigger the lever that’s already too tight. 

“So psychology?” He changes the subject.

“Yeah, the-uh- child kind.” She awaits the usual taunt that comes with her answer- the ignorant thought that ‘why would children even need a psychologist?’- but it doesn’t. When she looks in his direction, it isn’t there either and she can’t decide if what he’s giving her is worse.

“That sounds pretty cool.” He says instead.

Ross’ brows twitch up momentarily, awe visible only for a few worthy moments. “Yeah it… it is.”

And says nothing else. 

‘Don’t read too much into it’ Ross repeats to herself, as many times as needed to push out the ridiculous thought of anything more than what it is- just a casual thing- out of her head, on the drive to his place.

**********

Part III.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat, @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 and that’s it lmao

[dottcre]

“i crave you”

cw: gn!masochist!reader (u can have a strap), straight up cannibalism, sub!dottore in the short bit of smut, biting, mentions of scars, lots of blood and gore, drugging (to decrease pain)

You weren’t very sure when Dottore had started to develop this odd… fetish? Kink? You weren’t even sure what to call it. Well, you might have an idea, but you weren’t sure if your assumptions were right either.

It all began a month or two ago, or so you think when you’d let him ride you. He was a beauty, as usual, body trembling and nails digging into the bedsheets. His sharp teeth scraped along your neck, never daring to bite since it was what you commanded of him. You had work, and with the heat in Sumeru, a turtleneck or scarf weren’t feasible options to use to hide the mark.

He seemed different that day, eyes more focused, movements more wild and careless as he chased for his own pleasure, never once pulling away from your neck. Drool was coating your shoulder, you being too distracted by the way he moved on you to take his odd behaviour into mind. After all, this was Dottore.

As he came, however, he bit down on your shoulder, muffling his pleasured moans and causing your pained ones to fill the room instead. Blood gushed out from the fresh wound, mixing with the saliva and staining both your shoulder and his teeth.

You chided him afterward, knowing that it was likely the mark would scar, yet he seemed out of it, tongue prodding around in his mouth, licking at his teeth. It was odd, but not something he wouldn’t do.

Only, it got worse.

For the next few weeks, he’d seem needier than usual, often getting you near him whenever you could, nipping and biting around the bite mark he left back then. He started biting you more, and you started growing used to the sting that faded into pleasure. You didn’t know how it got this far, how you’d let it get this far.

Dottore was gnawing at your arm, picking at it with his teeth. His clean habits were gone as blood was smothered on his sickly pale skin. He was grinning slightly, humming as he chewed and drank from you. It made you sick, a horrible feeling building up your throat as you swore that you’d puke if you stared for too long. The drug he gave you earlier was bitter on your tongue, forcing you to stay conscious enough to feel it, alive enough to keep breathing in case he needed more.

He’d torn through the muscle, the whites of your bone starting to show and making you tear up. Never once has he managed to make you cry before, and he seemed to relish in the success. You heard him chew, and swallow, then felt him lick, bite, and the process only repeated itself until he was satisfied.

The drug made you dizzy, and the strength you had drained from your body. Not that you could do anything when your other arm had entirely gone to waste. Dottore’s work. Your wretched, twisted lover’s work.

No, you were barely lovers now. He was a starving man, and you the meal he’s craved all his life.

You blinked, fatigued and quite literally drained. A twitch of your fingers caught his attention, drawing him away from his meal. Wild red eyes fixated on you, and a thought about how he’d looked just like a predatory bird flashed across your mind. You couldn’t speak, throat dry to the point that it hurt. He gave you a sick grin, teeth red and eyes curving to the point he looked unnatural.

“I’ve never tasted anything like you,” he rasped, voice husky. “Oh, where have you been?” His figure was barely a mess of colours to you as tears started flowing freely. Were you overwhelmed? How could you be when you could barely feel anything?

He watched you for a few moments, cold hand holding your own limp one before realizing that you were out like a light. Then, he looked over at your arm. His masterpiece. He might’ve gone just a bit too far, judging by its horrific state. Bits of bone were poking out, and the madman applauded himself for being able to keep you alive.

He picked you up ever so gently, starkly different from his behaviour a moment ago, and pulled you against him. Your skin was still warm, blood dripping and staining his previously pristine floors.

He kissed you once, then another, a sign of gratitude in his own fucked up way. As he waltzed your body into his lab, he hummed. For as long as you existed, he’d savour you, every single part of you, for a good, hard-earned meal was not to be wasted.

[gibsonxtrevino]

GIBSON TREVINO

Age: 35

Gender & Pronouns: Cis male & He/him

Neighborhood: Downtown

Occupation: Tattoo Artist at Upper Hand Tattoo Studio

Length of time in Briar Ridge: His whole life

Faceclaim: Carlos Miranda

TW: Bullying

Expectations are like fine pottery. The harder you hold them, the more likely they are to crack. Gibson Trevino was primarily raised by his Father upon his Mother taking off and leaving Mr. Trevino for some older and more wiser man. At least through her own words. See, Mr. Trevino was honestly what one could consider trailer trash. If the shoe fits–which it did. The elder was an epitome of a loud mouth, dirt under the finger nails man who had that pungent smell that lacked taking a shower at weeks at a time. His hair was like an oiled machine and not the good kind either. Even the family car was on cinder blocks out in the front yawn of their double wide. Growing up, the extent of his appearance and the way his Father carried himself in public set some conceived notion towards his son. In middle school he was often picked on since his Father who was supposed to be the provider couldn’t even buy the younger any clothes. So, in turn Gibson would have to jimmy rig old jeans or shorts from his Father’s own collection. Which was quite most a difficult task at hand since Gibson had been pretty scrawny from the get-go. There were some days he would come home in hysterics from all the nasty comments other children made. One never realizes how cruel kids can be. Adults might think it’s just something that happens. That bullying builds character but in reality, it’s like nuclear waste creates superheroes. It’s a rare occurrence and often does much more damage than endowment. The simple concept was lost on Mr. Trevino. It was all apart of his whole logic on tough love. It was tough alright and something that unfortunately the young male had to conquer by himself alone.

That cruelty made the boy cold. He had to substitute anger as a way to escape his many days of sorrow. Channeling that into his own reasoning for fighting. His logic would soon to be that nobody could hurt him without his permission. Quickly enough his hysterics from the emotional abuse he endured turned into strength. That and lot’s of black eyes but not everyone could win every single fight they were put in. The road to hell was paved with the bones of men who did not know when to quit fighting. Those life lessons turned to far more complex ones then Gibson would have originally imagined. His fights put him in an entirely different stereotype now. And even though, it was a more embracing notoriety there were some aspects that could be the man’s downfall. He certainly developed some nasty habits from it.

Rebellious by nature, that road led him to running in the midst of the wrong crowds. The troubled youth, the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. This was the stereotype he could be categorized now into. Some saw the bad but he didn’t. It meant he had a social life away from his Father who was a different breed of trash then one might place him in. That needed acceptance from his childhood was granted by becoming troublesome. Through high school, he skipped more classes then actually attending. He stole, lied, cheated his way through his teen years. Even now at thirty-five he still feels the need to push the envelope for the sake of other’s. This is the sad part of acceptance : that you’re willing to risk your own self-destruction for the sake of others. That isn’t selfless by any means. In reality, he’s a moth becoming burned by his own flame and those flames keep getting hotter and hotter.  

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Character Profile Full name: Mitsuri Ashido-Sero

Pronunciation: Mit-zuri ASH-i-do se.ro

Meaning of Name: Mitsuri means "honey"

Hero/Villain Name: Bubble Gum

Nicknames: Honey-Bun, Suri, Mitsi

History of Nicknames: All gifted by her parents since birth so it kind of stuck

Nationality: Japanese-Hispanic

Quirk: Super-Glue: In which she can produce a large or small mass of a super sticky substance at will. When consuming it or letting it in your body system one way or another you will get negative effects such as headaches and stomach problems like when you eat real glue

Birthday and Astrology Sign: June 10th 21XX, Gemini

Age: 14

How old do they look: 14-16 Gender: Femimine Enby (she/they)

Orientation/Sexuality Preference: Pansexual

Birth date: June 10th

Birth place: Tokyo, Japan

Appearance: Eye color: Dark golden yellow with the right eye having a blackness instead of a normal eye

Eye shape: Round and wide

Do they wear contacts or glasses?: None Hair: Short curly dark pink hair

Height: 5'2

Weight: 90 lbs

Body build: Slightly chubby yet fit

Body shape: pear

Complexion: A ashy light pink

Cup size: D

Blood Type: AB

Handedness: Right handed

Hand type: Gentle hands

Nails: Short and clean with paint

Movement: Very flowy and bubbly

How do they walk: Very bubbly with a hop on her steps with her arms swinging

Posture: Straight and respectful

Flexibility: Decent

Speech Mannerisms: Tends to say "uh" a lot when she talks fast

Scars: None

Birthmarks: None

Piercings: Three on each ear

Tattoos: None

General face structure: Very cute with steady bone stricter like her mother but slightly sharper

Defining physical traits: Her horns and eye

Clothing: Uniform: She wears the UA girl uniform with pink or orange leg warmers over her socks and any bright jewelry

Casual outfit: A bright pink sweater dress with pastel blue leggings and white high heeled boots that reach her knees

Preferred outfit: NA

Hero/Villain costume: A semi tight sleeveless black dress that short in shorts that reach her mid thigh instead, neon pink leggings and skin tight deep scoop cut orange finger-less glove top underneath, a pair of black giggles over her eyes with a white razor tipped mouth mask under covering the rest of her face,

Equipment / Support Items: None

Characteristics:

Personality: VERY much her parents, bubbly and bright and full of energy and love

Big Five personality traits: Sweet, loyal, adorkable, bubbly, friendly

Most prominent personality trait: Bubbly

Best traits: Sweet, bubbly, kind, the life of the social butterfly party

Worst traits: Giddy, "naive", annoying

Likes: Dancing, singing, amusement parks, pools, gel pens, glitter, watching her parents work, painting, strawberry cake, Hachi Kaminari Dislikes: When she gets her glue in her hair (which is why it's usually cut now), being called "slim girl", being called fat

Quirks:  (not the superpower but little silly things they do) She randomly starts singing to brighten to mood of others, drums her pens and pencils where ever, if she runs out of room to doodle in her notebooks she will steal someone elses to draw, she bounces around when she's real happy Fear: Not having friends

Hobbies: Painting, dancing, singing

Skills/Talents: Brightening someone's mood, good at painting

Strengths: Fast runner Weaknesses: Too much use of her Quirk could result in her being in a cocoon for a while depends how much she used and how thick the cocoon's walls were

Reason to keep on living: Her family and friends

What is their self-image like: She's very proud of her looks

Coping mechanisms: She will take her mom's old hero costume and her dad's shirt and curl up on the bed or couch listening to

Any life motto or quote they live by: "Life is gonna suck, that much we can all agree on, but why do we have to turn off the music or take away colors over one sad thing?"

Favorite things: All colors, puppies, kittens, bunnies, daisies, strawberry cake, the sound of music, love

Health:

Physical: Though chubby healthy as can be

Mental: Though has slight anxiety it's good

Emotional Stability: Pretty highly emotional and has slight anxiety but besides that good

If faced with crisis, what is their go-to: Screams and flights but goes to get help if that doesn't help

Nutrition: A bit uneven but normal

Habits: She chews her nails

History, Background, and Future:

0-4: Born in Tokyo Japan she lived her life pretty spoiled and loved deeply as a very happy and bubbly baby

5-8: She proved to be much of a social butterfly in her early school years and already came up with the dream to make others happy

9-11: By 10 her parents announced the pregnancy of her little brother Akio and started her life as a happy big sister with her besties beside her Got her Quirk during one Christmas break resulting in a funny mess

12-14: Developed a crush on Hachi Kaminari through their friendship and day dreams about marrying him and becoming a UA student to get her goal in check on becoming someone who makes everyone happy

15-Present: Got accepted to UA and live at home with her now five year old brother

Did they like their upbringing: She loves it

How has their upbringing shape them: Very proud and bubbly

What did they enjoy most about their childhood?: The times with her family having fun at an amusement park

What did they hate most about their childhood?: NA

Current Dream: Study hard and become someone who can protect and make others smile and be happy

Long-term goals for Future: Get married to someone who she loves and she loves back while becoming a person to make everyone around the world happy

Home: She lives in a apartment near campus right in the same building as Rose's family

Home Life as a Kid: Full of love and fun

Home Life Now: Supportive and loving

Quick Family background: Any Friends:  Kohaku Usagiyama, Rose Takami, Zora Midoriya, Yuzuriha Midyoria, Tsuki Bakugo, Hoshiko Bakugo, Arashi Jiro-Yaoyorozu, Chiharu Jiro-Yaoyorozu, Hachi Kaminari, Gou Iida, Sakura Todoroki, Hiiragi Monoma Any Family: Mina Ashido (mom), Hanta Sero (dad), Akio (little brother)

[thenx-fitness]

How To Handstand | ANYONE CAN DO THIS

Handstand progressions

Are you ready to take your fitness journey to new heights? Literally! Learning how to do a handstand is an impressive feat that not only demonstrates your strength and balance, but also boosts your confidence and body awareness. Whether you're a seasoned yogi or a beginner in the world of fitness, anyone can master the art of handstands with the right progressions and guidance. In this article, we will walk you through step-by-step handstand progressions that will help you achieve and perfect this awe-inspiring skill.

Step-by-step guide

Before you dive into the world of handstands, it's important to note that consistency and practice are key. Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither will your handstand skills. But fear not, with the following step-by-step guide, you'll be well on your way to nailing a handstand in no time.

1. Build your foundation

Like any other skill, you need a strong foundation to build upon. Strengthening your core and upper body is crucial for maintaining balance during a handstand. Incorporate exercises such as planks, push-ups, and shoulder presses into your regular workout routine. Don't forget to engage your core muscles throughout these exercises to ensure maximum stability and control.

2. Master the basic handstand prep

Before attempting a full handstand, it's important to master the basic handstand prep positions. Start by practicing the "Downward Dog" pose from yoga, which replicates the inverted position of a handstand. This will help you get comfortable with having your bodyweight on your hands and develop the necessary shoulder and wrist strength.

3. Wall-assisted handstand

Now that you've built a solid foundation and familiarized yourself with the handstand prep positions, it's time to progress to the wall-assisted handstand. Find a clear wall space and place your hands firmly on the ground, shoulder-width apart. Kick your legs up lightly against the wall and allow your body to form an inverted "V" shape. Focus on maintaining a straight line from your wrists to your shoulders and hips. This position will help you develop strength and balance while getting used to the sensation of being upside down.

4. Find your balance

Once you feel comfortable with the wall-assisted handstand, it's time to work on finding your balance. Practice shifting your weight from the wall towards the center of the room. Start by taking small steps away from the wall while maintaining light contact with it for support. Gradually reduce the amount of support from the wall until you can confidently hold a handstand without any assistance.

5. Engage your core

A strong core is essential for maintaining balance and control throughout your handstand. Focus on engaging your abdominal and lower back muscles while in the handstand position. This will help you stabilize your body and prevent your lower back from sinking or arching. Incorporate core-strengthening exercises like leg raises, Russian twists, and planks into your regular workout routine to further develop your core strength.

6. Perfect your alignment

Alignment plays a crucial role in achieving a picture-perfect handstand. Ensure that your body is in a straight line from your fingers to your toes. Don't allow your shoulders to collapse or your hips to sag. Engage your shoulder and back muscles to maintain a strong and stable upper body. Keep your gaze focused on the ground between your hands to maintain balance and avoid unnecessary strain on your neck.

7. Practice, practice, practice!

As with any new skill, practice is the key to mastery. Dedicate regular practice sessions to your handstand journey. Start with short holds and gradually increase your time as you build strength and confidence. Don't get discouraged by falls or setbacks – they are all part of the learning process. Remember, every handstand attempt is a step closer to success.

Now that you have a step-by-step guide to follow, it's time to embark on your handstand journey. Remember to be patient, consistent, and most importantly, have fun! Handstands are not only a great physical exercise but also a wonderful way to challenge yourself mentally and boost your self-confidence. So, go ahead, defy gravity, and let your inner acrobat shine!.. For more visit: https://thenx.com/

[buckybarnesdiaries]

a piece of cake

© @jamesbrnes

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Something happens at Shuri's birthday party that leads to a heated fight.

word count: 3k words. (fuck, it worth every damn word)

warnings/tags: nsfw, +18!!! angry jealous sex, let's start there. unprotected sex, oral sex (face fucking and ridding), fingering, brief daddy!kink, brief praise!kink, language, cursing, handcuffing, mention of bodily fluids, and probably i'm forgetting something else, i just lost my mind. bucky being the cutest and loving man on earth at the end.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

join the tag list here.

You had never been so quiet, but you knew that opening your mouth only could cause a storm inside the car, on your way back home. Believing you could have a pinch of luck, Bucky wouldn't notice that something was raving you mad since the moment you watched him letting another woman give him a spoon of cake. Straight to his mouth. You almost choked on your drink, talking to Shuri about how excited she was to celebrate her birthday in New York, when you witnessed the scene hearing their laughs and watching how they dared to touch his metal arm constantly. Your boyfriend was talking with some of his old friends from Wakanda, not even knowing he made friends there. He never said a word about it. Even so, they didn't have the right to flirt with him. Unless he didn't say anything about you.

But Bucky wasn't stupid. Or at least, not like you thought. Gazing you by the corners of his blue eyes, he was conscious that something was going wrong. He licked his upper lip briefly, slowly. He tasted the waters putting a hand on your thigh, which was your favorite gesture while he was driving, deriving with your fingers laced and him placing kisses on the back of your hand. But you didn't move an inch, still staring through the copilot's window with your elbow nailed there and your chin resting on your knuckles.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing”.

Your passive tone and the lie as a response caused him to frown, pulling over the car to focus on you. He turned on his seat and placed a hand behind the headrest of yours.

“Spit it”.

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow ironically, looking at him for a second. If he had to ask it was because he wasn't really seeing the dilemma there.

“I'm just tired and I wanna go home, James. That's all”.

James. James. You did it unconsciously, but he didn't take it as an innocent manner of calling him. Unexpressive, the soldier joined the highway driving faster than he used to. You had pissed him off, but it wasn't your problem. He had hurt your feelings with something he didn't give any importance to. The only thing you wanted was to take a shower, put on your comfier pajamas and go to sleep, probably you'd see tomorrow that situation differently than today and you could move on from your insecurities and the jealousy running through your veins.

You arrived at your apartment in record time, keeping the car inside the parking under the building. You removed the seat belt to wear your leather jacket and grab your purse on your feet, stepping out when you were ready. But Bucky stayed inside, just turning off the engine. He didn't have any intention of leaving it, maintaining his hands tightly gripped around the wheel. You ignored him as soon as you couldn't pretend you were just tired anymore. It was the first time something like that happened and you were having a strong desire to throw your guts up.

Three minutes later you were under the warm water with your forehead resting against the cold wall and your eyes closed. Maybe you were overreacting and the rational, mature behavior would be to go to talk with him, tell your boyfriend what made you feel upset. Sighing as you nodded two times, determined to put the cards on the table, you shut off the faucet and walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

“Oh, fucking hell!” You growled because of the scare of your life when you found Bucky already in your shared room.

He had his back supported on the wall, a leg flexed, and his hands behind himself. No expression on his face, but expecting an explanation from you. You were hoping for something from him too, maybe I don't know what I've done to make you feel like that, can you give me a clue? He just stared at you in silence, drying the pearls of water decorating your body before wearing a pair of black panties and your forgotten pajamas instead of one of his t-shirts impregnated on his scent.

“Com'ere”. Bucky whispered, stretching his flesh hand on air when you were about to go to sleep.

“No”.

Well, that wasn't the proper way to talk like grown adults. You crossed both arms on your chest, standing next to your side of the bed.

“What'd you say?” He squinted incredulous, slowly standing from the wall, pretending you hadn't uttered that word.

“I said no, you fucking punk”.

“The hell d'you think you're talking to, darling?”

“To the cretin who let other women flirt and touch him”. You replied with evident annoyance. “Why don't you go to show them your daddy's skills, uh? Sure I can find someone who respects me in the meantime”.

Suddenly, a grimace you hadn't seen before on him appeared like a thunderbolt. You weren't sure if you just made him feel more furious or if you just broke his heart. But before you could figure it out, Bucky shorted the distance between both in two fast strides and his hands gripped your throat and the back of your neck respectively, pinning you to the closest wall and tossing the lamp on your nightstand to the floor. You complained slightly —with his tongue wildly invading your mouth— because of the strength he used to put you against the wall.

You tried to push him away, to not fall into his charmings, but he made your mind blank when his fingers were firmly nailed in your ass and his body was accommodated between your legs. Your fiery provoked a bulge under his pants so painful that in every rock against your core he wasn't sure if it hurt or if it was some kind of pleasure he couldn't handle. Out of breath, Bucky attacked your neck, digging his teeth in your neck with so much passion that you screamed delighted his full name while pulling his hair. That gesture drove him insane, losing the less sanity he had at that point. With just a push, your boyfriend ripped off your shirt to strip you, in anticipation of your panties suffering the same fate.

Bucky threw you to the mattress on your abdomen, perfectly positioned to what was about to happen. He was so eager, so desperate for showing you what he was feeling that he didn't lose time taking off his clothes, just undoing his belt and unzipping his jeans to pull them down to his ankles along his boxers. You heard him spitting in his hand to use it as lube, although you were sufficiently soaked and ready for your Buck that neither of you needed his saliva. He rammed his dolorous erection into your cunt, crashing his pelvis and pressing it against your ass with all his strength, causing you to drown a loud cry in the sheets.

Tangling his fingers with yours and lacing your arms around your neck, putting all his weight onto your back, Bucky pounded you with an insanely quick rhythm, not giving you any chance to mold your throbbing walls around his length. Your pleased vocals echoed inside your room in total sync with the hits to your g-spot. Your body received with every one of them soft cramps mixed with pain and pleasure, making you roll your eyes and tear your throat.

“'S that wh— what you wanted, uh?” Bucky snarled against the back of your neck, totally gone, not giving you a break or showing any mercy.

“Fuck, no…” You replied, challenging him.

He swallowed a rough moan, wrapping his cold fingers around your throat while using the other to pull back your hair and arch your body. “Don' fucking… lie to me, doll… You wan— wanted your daddy to make you… feel desired over tho— those women”.

And yes, he was right. More or less. But you didn't expect him to react like that. Bucky was rabidly fucking you, moving the bed from its position with every angry thrust into your pussy. You knew you weren't going to last for too long if he continued impaling you against the mattress, just like that. But you both had to recognize that it was the best session of sex of your life.

“You were… fucking mad watch— watching 'em touch my arm… your arm, right?”

You whined at the brutality he used to push his hard cock beyond your limits, holding it there as he tilted your head to crash his lips on yours. Bucky devoured them until they were shiny, swollen, slightly ached because of the bit he left on your bottom one.

“If you don't tell me… the truth… I swear I'm not gonna let you come”. The whisper fell into your ear with such a raspy tone of voice, conscious of him being very capable.

“It was… your fucking fault, James. Not… Not mine”. You grunted, feeling him going a little deeper. “I di— didn't let anybody flirt with me… as if you didn't exist”.

That was the truth, but the wrong answer for him. Suddenly, Bucky pulled out his dick covered in your arousal, freeing you from any grip. A pause that only lasted the time he took to grab the handcuffs from your nightstand to place them in your wrists and secure them around the headboard. Now you were under his total control, defying him by strongly closing your legs and frowning at him, panting and sweating.

“Lemme tell you something”. Your boyfriend said, dangerously crawling over the bed till reaching your knees and forcing them to be separated, wide spread for him. “If you think I was flirting, but you didn't see… how uncomfortable I was… This situation is not my fault”.

The tables were turned as he finished his sentence, settling himself between your legs yet kneeling to raise your ass above his lap. “Not so mouthy now, are you, doll?”

You wanted to speak back, to say something after having a second to reconsider the reason why you were so angrier at him when Bucky pushed you down and rammed his dick back to the place it belonged. You forced unconsciously your hands gripped, wanting to put them on him —wherever—. As soon as he handcuffed you, your desire for touching him used to be suffocating. But you were the one who played from the start, instead of telling him how you were feeling about that situation at Shuri's party.

Bucky didn't even let you kiss him, stabilizing you on top with an arm around your waist and his cold hand holding the back of your head. His hips rocked straight to your g-spot once and once, making you lose any kind of control over your body as your boyfriend didn't have any compassion, needing to find relief to his sorrowful erection by cumming inside your clenching walls. You were driving him crazy, maintaining your eye contact at all moments and almost drinking your delighted, obscene crying, aware that only him could cause you to be so dirty.

“Feels good, uh…? You like it?” Your boyfriend brushed your lips with his, depriving you of his kisses or any other touch. “Bec— 'cause you take your daddy... so damn good, baby girl… So tight… so tight you could kill me”.

“Yes, da— daddy”. You whimpered nodding your head. “Only you… can fuck me li— like that… Only you”.

“That's it… that's it, oh, fuck… fuck, doll”.

You saw him roll that pair of beautiful blue eyes to the back of his head, feeling Bucky's thighs tensing under your legs. You didn't want anything else than making him cum, after overthinking about how he felt, and not about what you witnessed. He was right, more or less. He was still being so innocent in those kinds of situations that he used to feel like a scared kid.

You suddenly fell back to reality when the emptiness sensation invaded you. Bucky pulled out his length from you again, causing you to beg in silence for not denying you the orgasm you were about to reach. But he warned you. Bucky asked you to tell him the truth and you chose to challenge him. Letting you sit on the mattress, he flexed a leg to guide his twitching cock to your mouth, not needing to tell you what he wanted you to do. You just parted your lips, receiving him without protesting, curling your fingers when he forced your limits, and positioned both hands on your head. Twirling your tongue around his base as you could, with your cavity completely invaded, Bucky provoked you a strong gag. A gesture that led to his warm seed being spilled down your throat.

“Fuck my life, baby girl!” He couldn't help but howl driven by the pleasure as you coughed and made vibrate his sensitive skin.

Just holding his dick trapped by your lips for a second, he freed your mouth, taking his time to admire you swallowing his cum and showing afterward your tongue. God, you looked so beautiful disheveled, with teary eyes and swollen lips because of the effort.

“Want me to tell you something else?” Bucky asked while cleaning the sweat in his forehead with the back of his arm, taking the small key to liberating you with his free hand.

You didn't reply, not needing to, as he rubbed your wrists to comfort your skin before lying by your side.

“Com'ere”. He whispered, yet trying to recover your breathings. Bucky wrapped you with his flesh arm, rubbing his iron fingers up and down your tense belly, creating a contrast that caused you goosebumps. “'M so sorry for making you feel like that”.

He kissed you. Slowly, passionate, tasting his own juices mixed with your saliva. Caressing your tongue with the tip of his, and no rush. You felt his digits touring down your skin, till finding your throbbing and needed clit. You weren't able to hold back a sweet moan when he circled his fingertip over your sensible pearl, gladly drinking your vocals.

“When I wanted to react… she was putting that damn spoon into my mouth. It felt horrible, doll, I promise”. He murmured, venturing his long cold finger to part your folds and sink it inside you —moaning at the fulfill sensation—. “You always save me from those awkward situations… but you were having fun with Shuri and I didn't want to interrupt you”.

You were feeling like shit, looking at him through your eyelids as he curved a second finger into your cunt and increased the pace of the pounds with his hand made of vibranium. Bucky spread some gentle kisses all around your face, ending with a tender bite to your lips.

“When you told me you wanted to go home, I felt a huge relief… 'Cause that was everything I wanted. Go home with you. Maybe watch a movie… cuddle… fall asleep on the sofa”.

“Oh, God, Bucky”. You wept onto his mouth, as soon as a third finger filled you, nailing his hand in the perfect position to be moved up and down. “I'm so— sorry, Buck… I'm sorry”.

“Fuck, no”. He let out, thrusting you harder, faster, creating a melody of filthy sloppy sounds while your moans were louder and louder. “I should stop 'em, I didn't… I didn't. But I respect you more than anything, doll… I love you with all my heart. I care 'bout you, 'bout your feelings… Can you forgive me? Can you… Can you cum for me?”

You nodded your head running out of words, seeing your boyfriend snaking his body down the bed to between your shaky legs, yet having his fingers knuckles deep inside you. “Keep 'em open for your man”.

The blow to your abused cunt provoked you a lash up to your backbone, landing your hands on his head as Bucky sank his face straight to your center. His digits fucked you savagely, while his tongue took control of your swollen pearl —sucking, licking, kissing, pulling it back—. He wasn't going to deny that pleasure to you, quite the opposite. You pressed unconsciously his face a little closer to your pussy, swinging your hips and riding his mouth when his caresses and his pushes became too much for you.

Bucky made you cum harder than ever, crying his name till you didn't have any strength and you were just a sack of bones under his expert mouth, devouring you and drinking your juices as if it was the elixir of life. And when he was satiated, you glanced at him using the tip of his tongue to trail a path up crossing your abdomen, the gap between your breasts, your throat, until kissing you again getting comfortable on top of you. It was a kiss full of love, and guiltiness, and necessity, and pure devotion for you.

“Did I hurt you with what I said?” You murmured, still enraptured by the fireworks fluttering within your belly.

“This isn't 'bout me”. Bucky clicked his tongue, hiding his face into your sweaty neck. “This is 'bout what I let happen”.

“That doesn't answer my question, Buck… I'm sorry about what I said. I was just… I feel insecure". You confessed stroking his scalp and back with your hands, lacing your legs together. “I didn't mean it. I would never try to… find someone who respects me more than you do. That's impossible. And not talking about how much you love me”.

“I love you with every inch of myself”. He swore, he promised, raising his face to look straight at your eyes. “I can't imagine a life without you”.

“Me either… Your love makes me feel alive”.

Bucky left one last tender kiss on your lips before suddenly standing up and holding you onto his arms to carry you to the bathroom and take a shower together —wash your hair, worship your body again as if it was the last thing he was going to do—.

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[sukirichi]

like crashing waves

Love comes to you like waves crashing upon one another.

REQUEST. mutual pining au + best friends to lovers + breeding kink 

CONTENT/WARNINGS. beach sex, unprotected sex, fingering, titty sucking, smut, nanami being a sweetheart <3 + the mandatory unedited note!

NOTES. thank you for requesting and joining the milestone event! I hope you like this <3

Your squeals echo as you run out of the car, arms flinging behind you with your best friend, Nanami, trailing behind you. His brows furrow upon seeing the familiar scenery of a light ultramarine sky, the sound of crashing waves calming upon his senses. His gaze falls on your waving form, figure jumping from the sand as you call out to him. Your smile is a lot brighter than the sun right behind you, and captivated, he follows your motions, his hands falling into the spaces between yours before allowing you to tug him closer to the beach.

“You brought me here,” he announces a little dazed, subconsciously gripping your hand tighter. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did!”

This isn’t just some regular beach. This is the place where the two of you first met when you were both little, awkward stubby legs running around the sand and scooping sand castles. As always, Nanami’s been more of a timid child, frowning at how you splashed on the water, uninterested with simpler tasks like the one he’s busy with.

When you see him silently enjoying himself, you trudge up to him. His hands immediately come up to protect his castle, having had his other friend Satoru kick and destroy them one too many times.

He’s surprised when you only gasp in awe, carrying your own plastic shovel and helping him build a bigger one afterwards. Your connection was natural – instantaneous.

Everything goes downhill from there. Despite living in another town, your family kept close contact, leading to you enrolling into Nanami’s middle school and staying solid all the way until he has to go attend Jujutsu High. He’s made it clear that he wishes to not be too attached to anyone or even get a wife, firm in his belief that he doesn’t want to hurt anyone by leaving a loved one behind. You, though? He makes an exception for you.

You’re his best friend and everything more, the one who pulled him away from being a salary man and telling him he could be capable of doing something wore instead of just fattening his bosses up while he does all the hard and honest work.

Nanami isn’t...cynical, per se, but he has a painfully honest outlook in his life while you’re more of the type to enjoy the little things, claiming that it’s never a sin to be happy despite the darkness looming. He’s been so used to you being a lot brighter and more cheerful than him, total opposites, really, that when the tables have turned and you’re the one holding his face as you scold him to save people and be the hero he is, he can’t really find it in himself to refuse.

Until now, he’s surprised you’re taking his profession extremely well. You never once blinked when he told you about his abilities and even takes away a fly head off your shoulder once, jumping in his arms instead to thank him.

He wonders how he ever came lucky enough to find someone like you, one that he actually cherishes more than he values the rules he’s set to keep himself in line.

Nanami doesn’t get the chance to think any more when you start stripping in front of him, your bubbling laughter syncing perfectly with the lapping of waves when you fling your clothes at him. He regrets ever letting you meet Gojo; you’re naughty, but never this pressing. His glare is half hearted as you run straight to the beach, however, and the blond man sighs.

His birthday was planned perfectly down to a tee. He’ll invite you over to celebrate, spend the silence and read books with you, have coffee, cuddle, and call it a day.

You had other plans in mind the moment you barged into his room though, dragging and pushing your friend all the way inside your car. His queries are silenced by the blasting radio, the man leaning back in his seat as his fingers tap against his thigh, wondering what you had in mind. There’s never really any telling with you and your spontaneous habits, so he just closes his eyes, allowing his blond hair to be swept away by the wind.

The last thing his wildest dreams could ever imagine is you taking him right back where everything started, his hands deft and careful as he unbuckles his belt. His cheeks tints a little because you never gave him the chance to pack, save for you throwing in hoodies and random underwear into a duffel bag.

Nanami folds both your clothes on the sand, shivering a bit from the chilly liquid. He glares at you once more with a tired sigh, about to ask how you have so much energy after driving for four hours straight when you splash water on him.

He is silent in comparison to your mocking laughter, waddling all around him until you’re whisking the water at every direction of his body.

Nanami stands there still like a statue, eyes closed to prevent the saltwater from hurting him, his hair sticking to his skin. His muscles are tense the whole while, preventing himself from just reaching over – not yet, anyway – for you were still too far away. But your guard is lowered, forgetting for a moment that your best friend is a jujutsu sorcerer and he’s spent years honing his senses until he’s mastered them to the extremity of his capabilities.

As your laughter grows closer, the splashing turning harder as it pads against his skin, Nanami opens his eyes and grabs you by your wrist hard.

You let out an ‘oop’ when he effortlessly pulls you into his chest, your forehead knocking against the solid muscles of his chest. “Ow!” you rub your forehead, lips formed into a pout and about to complain when your eyes snap wide open, the first thing in sight his pecs. Clearing your throat, you try to push yourself off him, suddenly completely aware of his warmth and his other hand sliding down your hip, lower, lower, and lower. “Nanami—”

“Having fun?”

His voice is low, a tinge of warning behind his words. Guiltily, you glance down at your wrist wrapped around his large, bony hand, noting the size and strength difference between the both of you.

You don’t want him to see you’re flustered – even if it’s painfully obvious already – so you snicker up at him, tilting your jaw upwards until he’s looking down straight at you. Nanami cocks an eyebrow in challenge, awaiting what snarky response would leave your lips when you smirk, using your free arm to splash on him one more time.

Nanami reels back when the water shoots straight in his eyes. Okay, you have to admit that maybe that was a little mean, but you’re having so much –

You’re immediately hoisted up into his arms, the water sliding off your body and the ground slipping off your feet. Panic rises in your system when you’re lifted off the seafloor, hands desperate and slippery as you cling onto his broad shoulders. “N-Nanami!” you protest, clinging to him like a koala when he only smirks, walking farther until he’s reached a spot he knows you can’t reach. “Hey, that’s cheating, put me down this instant!”

“Do you really want me to do that?”

Nanami knows you’ve surrendered to loss when you huff, leaving you with no choice but to wrap your legs around him tighter, nails subconsciously gliding down his back. He stiffens at your movements, brows furrowed as he ponders if bringing you here and rendering you helpless really is the best idea.

You’re pressed so close to him until space becomes nothing but a myth, your breathy intake of air wafting into his ear like bait. Nanami tightens his hold on your grip a bit, his swallowing audible at the feeling of your breasts pushed and flicking against his chest.

Fuck, of course you’re wearing your best bikini.

Nanami tries to push those lewd thoughts at the back of his head, drilling into his mind that you’re his best friend and you’re untouchable. He opts to stare beyond the horizon instead, train of thought too distracted of not letting himself be distracted by you that he doesn’t notice you pulling away to look at him.

He’s brought back to life when your wet palm caresses his cheek, thumbs smoothed over his cheeks. Nanami’s gaze flickers back to you, a sigh on his lips as he presses closer, daunting enough to leave a kiss on the crook of your palm.

That snaps something inside you.

You take his breath away – literally – as you cup his cheeks with both his hands, panting as you dove straight to his lips. Nanami’s reaction comes like reflex, both hands cupped under your ass as he meets your kiss with the same hunger and longing that has always been blossoming between the both of you the moment you both knew what love meant like.

Nanami’s groans are masculine and low when you begin to grind down on him, teasing as you push your breasts harder against his chest. Your nipples are hard enough that he feels the pebbled buds grazing across his chest, the sensation sending blood rushing to his cock.

He pulls away, cock swelling harder when he sees you all breathless with lips bruised. There’s something about knowing he’s the cause of you nearly falling apart like this, his mind wandering off a dangerous path at the fantasy of what you’d look like if he does something more.

The voice at the back of his head is responsible to keep him in his reigns, something he’s more than thankful of; otherwise he’ll completely ravage you senselessly at this moment.

“Do you really want our first time together to be out here in the open?” he rasps with short, quick pecks while you whine in his arms, the desire for that something more an aching and almost painful image on your face. “Won’t you like it more if we’re behind closed doors...” he brushes a thumb on your lip, coaxing your lips to part for him obediently. Nanami clenches his jaw when you eagerly suck at his thumb, your eyes dark and hazy with lust as you swirl your tongue around his digits. “...and I’d get to do whatever I want with you?”

“Are you going to hold back if we’re here?” you tease, popping his thumb off with a loud and wet pop. “It’s kind of romantic, don’t you think? The sun is setting behind us and it’s just the two of us anyway,” your words are breathy, panted and needy in its manner of delivery. Really, you can’t think straight anymore, not when his fingers are grazing over the swell of your ass and his face is bathed by the golden glow. Right now is perfect. “I just really want to be with you.”

You shudder when Nanami finally tugs your underwear to the side, the feeling of his fingers smoothing over your inner thighs and just hovering right where you want him to be enough to make you go crazy. You’re shaking, panting, almost crying.

Who knows how long you’ve wanted him – you’re simply too impatient if he plans to take his time with you.

A demand is ready to fall from your lips to just get him to take you already, but Nanami beats you to it, his pointer finger grazing against your slit. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, gritting his teeth the moment his thick, long finger sinks into you beautifully. Your head falls back in a moan as he pumps his fingers inside, testing the waters, and your pleasure is only amplified with the struggle of him trying to quicken his pace under the sea. “You’re so wet already.”

“Shut up, I-I wasn’t—”

“You’re beautiful,” Nanami growls, taking you by surprise when he takes two fingers to spring the knots of your top away. You gasp when your top slides off at the curve off your breasts before your erect nipples are revealed all for him, hard and swollen while he inserts another finger in your heat.

Clutching harder on his shoulders and bouncing yourself off on his finger, Nanami’s self control is tethering dangerously across the edge.

He leans down to suck at your breasts dutifully, fighting against the water that’s surrounding you both. “You’re extremely beautiful,” he praises, “Thank you – for letting me have you this way, for trusting me,” An elongated groan falls from both your lips when he sinks you down on his cock, your heat a great and mind-numbing contrast to the chill of the water. “I think you’re the best birthday gift.”

“Always so romantic, Nanami,” you managed through a laugh, allowing him to fuck into you senselessly. You’re all over him, hands wrapped around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair and tongue swiping out to taste the saltiness of the water on his skin. He’s amazing, so fucking good, and you snap your eyes shut while the soft, crashing waves match the rhythm of his thrusts. “No one could blame me for falling for you.”

“You are?” he grasps your ass until he squeezes it hard enough to make your walls clamp down on him, your grunting muffled by the teeth nibbling his earlobe. “Do you love me?”

“For so long.”

Nanami smiles even if you can’t see it, but it doesn’t matter. He’ll just have to show you, make you feel the words and emotions weighing heavily at his heart. Nanami leans sideways to capture your lips in a wet kiss, hands heavy and harsh compared to his passionate kisses as he keeps bouncing you up and down his cock. He’ll just have to show you.

“I’ll make up for the lost time then.”

You’re wearing your favourite hoodie of Nanami’s as you stand before the counter, stirring both mugs with your hands wrapped around it to warm you up. After your lovemaking session that has turned into more than two rounds, you’re downright spent, the both of you too tired to drive back home and opting for a hotel instead.

The aroma of coffee along with Nanami’s scent lingering on his clothes brings a smile to your face, your heart and skin still fluttery from today’s event.

Just then, strong arms wrap around your waist, soft lips coming down to press at the apples of your cheeks. You giggle in his arms as Nanami sways you both side to side, his head resting on your shoulder.

“I love you,” he announces quietly, so softly and tenderly as if it’s a secret only you’re allowed to know. You already became aware of his feelings – he’s shown it enough – but hearing it come from his own lips feels different.

Growing up, you always believed that love would come to you rapidly, overwhelmingly. But as Nanami swoops down to kiss you once more, his lips tasting faintly of the cake you both got on the way, you realize love is more like the soft crashing waves that comes gradually, slowly, yet constantly until you’re surrounded and it consumes you whole. It buds and grows larger until the crashing waves expand into an ocean of feelings that can’t even comprehend the depth of what you feel him, and you kiss him hard, embrace him hard – you just want to show him.

[onyxoverride]

Curiosity Killed The Cat...

Sukuna x Reader

◙warnings: Monster fucking, monster tongue cunnilingus, size kink ish, full nelson, a bit of objectification, virgin! reader, blood kink, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, belly bulge and lowkey cumflation, I say you’re “small” but it’s compared to him and he’s huge, marking, smut minors dni (18+) I block blogs with no age indication

◙word count: 3k

◙summary: You’re too curious for your own good but this experience is too satisfying to pass up. Especially with a powerful monster such as this.

◙note: make sure to read the warnings real good please <3

All your life your technique has gotten you in trouble. Not just your technique but the combination of its ability and your personality is… chaotic at best.

The sheer amount of times your mother has said “Curiosity killed the cat,” is uncountable. But you are all too stubborn, too curious. A simple fascination with the bizarre and unknown can get you in dangerous situations, yes. But the satisfaction of knowing, experiencing is too euphoric to give up.

Plus, you could keep shifting into different domains to escape if anything particularly hostile showed up. It’s not like you weren’t trained either but being the ephemeral child of the estate, fading in and out too often to put your focus onto being train in close combat. What a dangerous sorcerer you could be if you put your mind to it. You are just too inquisitive, prying at the seams of every single thing you know or learn, to try to focus on something so simple, so boring like close combat. Which has grown increasingly frustrating with your mentors and parents.

But who cares? You get to see oceans in the blink of an eye, curious voids made of shadows, places that look like they’ve been taken over by nature, and others that have no life insight. Repetitive buildings that go on forever, others that reach higher than the sky. Some are much more ominous but the strength of your curiosity overpowers any fear you could possibly hold.

Each day you keep trying to find a new sight, a new place to adventure. Sometimes it’s harder than it looks. The best places have the best barriers, so powerful it feels like you bounce off them but they never resist long. Some who reside in that domain are curious too, usually, they are not home or you can evade them quite easily. They become too comfortable in their own domains but it’s not like you are trying to hurt them.

Mother is calling you again before you run off somewhere she won’t be able to find you, looking particularly frantic this time, tugging at your yukata.

“Just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean you should be hopping around like a stupid frog in others domains. You’re too reckless, we won’t be able to find you if something happens,” she is panting as she holds her chest, “you know, what I’ve been telling you is true — curiosity-”

“Curiosity kills the cat,” every time she says that it feels like it’s incomplete, that there’s something missing. You roll your eyes and huff a bit but it’s not like she can stop you from leaving, “I know. I’ll be safe.”

That’s a lie. At least you never try to be safe even though you evade most of the curses. You learn as you watch them, you learn when they try to chase after you or even talk.

Wiggling your mother’s grip off you, you slip behind a corner and when she tries to follow you, you’re already gone. Slipping away quickly out of this reality and into the next. She didn’t get to tell you about the bad feeling she had.

Wet. That’s the first thing you can process when you enter this new domain. Red liquid soaking the edges of your yukata. Something blood-like but more like wine. Then it’s the overbearing weight of a fear that you’ve never felt before. An involuntary reaction, something akin to when prey realize the eyes of a hunter is on them — a feeling to run or freeze or fight washes over you but still this fear is nothing compared to your interest in what the hell is here with you.

It’s almost hard to lift your head at the weight, slowly dragging your eyes upwards, over ram skulls and the curious liquid that you’re starting to realize is definitely a mixture of blood, up to a throne and on the throne-

Whoever you’re looking at is big — thick muscly legs exposed casually as he sits, four arms swirling around a ram skull, looking bored but each of his four eyes shine. A smirk set on his cheeks and a heavy smile on his belly.

Interesting, is the first thing he thinks when he feels you enter. When he sees you the second thought is this will be fun. Is it strange you are thinking something similar?

He stares at you — a challenge of whether or not you will speak or him. But you meet his eyes, which most don’t dare, and a sly, satisfied smile stretches on your face.

A split second is all it takes for him to disappear. When you try you look around, feet shuffling backward to try to see more you’re met with a broad chest. Two hands ghosting over your ribs and another bringing your face back to look at him. No, for him to look at you. To inspect you.

“It’s not often a human stumbles upon my domain,” voice rough and demanding just like his presence, vibrating through your body as he pulls you close to him.

You’re hesitant to speak, what could you even say? You’re special? Or that you’re stupid enough to do this shit?

Before you can even try to formulate a response, the hand holding your face wraps loosely around your throat. Not squeezing but enough of a threat to make you swallow — skin warm, blood pumping with adrenaline. It’s almost deafening — the blood making your ears feel full and able to hear every little movement his kimono makes. You can hear the mouth on his belly move before you feel it. Matching the sadistic smile he wears on his face. You are so much smaller than him, so powerless before him. It’s not like you could activate your technique with him touching you either. Maybe you should have listened to your mother-

“You’re soft but with a technique like this you could be useful,” the two hands that were just ghosting your body press into your hips, groping at what they can, “your body too.”

His nails skim over the skin his hands can find exposed, jostling your yukata until more and more of your skin is bare to him. Part of you feels like maybe you should stop his hands, back away, figure a way out of this domain but… this is exactly what you wanted isn’t it? The excitement, the thrill, the satisfaction of experiencing something new.

Under thick hands and sharp nails, he can feel your blood rushing, warm and lively. Almost entranced with the feeling against your skin, you don’t even realize he’s turned you towards him, yukata thrown somewhere near some skulls and catching on their horns most likely. He shouldn’t be touching you, flinching away would be a reaction more warranted but why is it that you lean into his touch like so. Falling into his haunting warmth so obediently, his hands groping over soft supple skin and nails scratching so lightly over the doughiest parts of your body and molding into his muscles.

Snapping out of your trance just a bit, his tattoos cause your eyes to trail over his body as his own clothing falls off his body, carelessly. Prideful, like some ancient statue standing tall after years of wear and erosion that could never take away from its composition. He’s looking down at you like he would anybody but the lust that gleams in his eyes makes you feel special, wanted. Reaching a dainty hand out, tracing the edges of the mouth on his belly bellow rippling set abs. He holds his breath a bit — because no one has ever dared reach back for him.

Truly interesting you are, a sadistic smile settling on his face as two hands set under your ass, hiking you up to him even as you yelp in surprise. But you cling to him, finding comfort in the strength of his arms and it dawns on him once more, “you are so small.”

Small compared to him at least, almost kitten-like, “Small? Or are you just very big?” He throws his head back in a short raspy laugh, loud and echoing across walls you can’t see but it makes you smile nonetheless even as he holds you completely bare to him. Naked as the day you were born but no attempt to cover yourself, something wicked leaking from your bones as he holds you, hands big enough to cover the important parts of your body no matter what size, the softness of your thighs pressing between his fingers.

The audacity you have is so… you tread on a thin line but you’re finding your balance as he holds the line taut. Top set of hands trailing over your arms and breasts, caressing your neck as you bare it to him with sly heady eyes. This plaything just might be worth the trouble.

He presses your legs to his sides, cunt directly on the mouth of his belly as he lets it open. Fear is one thing that runs through your veins, the teeth looking quite intimidating near your nethers but it does nothing to bite. Letting a long slick tongue slink out and tease your folds, hands and nails digging into your ass sharply to keep your cunt pressed onto the tongue that is decorated with a similar tattoo like the ones that decorate his body.

“You’re untouched,” he can taste it on his tongue. Flowering into the heat of his body as he tastes your juices. A virgin. Perfect. As you should be, to be deflowered by him is an honor and you should be thanking him for even touching you. Letting your innocent cunt be defiled by a monstrous tongue… it just feels too good to stop. But it does make you squirm, his gaze and the rough texture of the tongue lapping at you combined with his nails digging far too deep into the flesh of your ass. Warm stinging pain as he holds you flush to his tongue, writhing while the red warmth glides slowly down, adding to the red liquid staining his feet. Fleetingly you wonder if this is how there is so much red water here. Not exactly blood but definitely could be a mix.

There’s no time to process the pain, he makes sure that you only feel pure unadulterated pleasure. The tip of the giant tongue writhing against your hole as if requesting access to your virgin cunt. Pressing in while you gasp at the feeling, the mixture between pain and lewd pleasure muddling your brain as you moan helplessly in his arms.

His four eyes catch everything. Soaking in the sight of your face, eyes rolling back and moaning shamelessly whenever his tongue rolls into you just right, he can feel you coming closer to rapture while your legs tremble. The smirk he wears is all too sexy, seductive. Falling so willingly into his arms with an overflowing curiosity for what you don’t yet know. He hums and oh when he does you can feel it vibrate through him and to the tip of the tongue that’s wiggling on the entrance of your cunt. You’ve long past the pleasure you can produce by yourself, with your own two fingers, now it’s a gasping almost painful rip starting from your cunt to your belly in waves. Cunt fluttering around the tip of the tongue that has droplets of blood on it either from your virgin pussy or from the blood produced from his nails.

You don’t even know what name to call out, and as if reading your thoughts he laughs at your depraved babbles being pushed out of your body.

“Sukuna,” he draws you closer to him in one breath, words ghosting over your face, “call my name, little moaning lamb.”

Trailing your hands across the markings on his body, across the sinew of his neck you moan into him as he looks down upon you, “Sukuna, please.”

He looks satisfied, prideful while your fingers graze his jaw, “please, what lamb?” A cue for you to use your words and no matter what you say he will destroy you.

Earlier he called you untouched, detecting your virginity like a snake, “touch me, please,” begging into his pectorals as he retracts the monstrous tongue back into his belly.

“Less of a lamb, more of a vixen,” you feel a large fleshy member slide across the blood that warms the globes of you behind. He chuckles at your shiver, letting the bulbous tip trace over your wet folds. A type of fear crosses your face and he savors the expression, handling you like a live ragdoll.

You know he wouldn’t listen if you ask him to go slower, to prepare your cunt for the stretch but you have an inkling of what he might be thinking, something about how you’re lucky enough to receive his tongue and how virgin pussy is the best when fucked raw and unprepared besides the wetness coating your thighs. It’s not like you want the nails digging into your behind to be inside you either, so you bear with his tip gliding along your slippery folds, getting stuck on your hole as he presses you lower and lower. Tip breaching your cunt with a loud gasp of pain and pleasure as you feel his laughter while bracing yourself against his chest. Your own nails dig into his chest, drawing some of his own blood but he basks in the feeling. Barely a stinging pain but just enough to know you’re pawing at his chest trying to bear the fullness of his cock stretching your rim. Basking in how you shiver against him, filled with pride.

“You should be thankful I am the one to be deflowering you. A God like me, bouncing you, a little helpless mortal, on my blessed cock,” he sinks you a bit lower, the fluttering of your tight hole making his tongue run across his teeth, “women would beg for me, but here you are. What should you be saying to me, little vixen?”

There’s only him feeling your head, his deep voice filling your body while his cock does the same, trying to formulate a response. Babbling out, “tha-thank you-” gasping once more, sinking one more inch or two, “thank you, so much, Sukuna.” You can feel his cock, or that of it that’s inside you, twitch as the sound of your voice.

“You will take all of me.”

He leaves no room for objections, not that you have any to plea for him to hear. Yet you still nod against his chest as he sinks you lower and lower. Luck looks upon you in the way that you are wet enough to take him so your hole does not tear. You feel so impossibly full. He’s in your guts while your walls encase him so tightly, any other man would be gasping in pleasure but he is no man. The occasional grunt he blesses you with while he fills you, now completely inside you, balls flush to your bloody ass. His other set of hands ghost over your chest, a quick fondle before wrapping around your ribs to bring you up and off until only the tip is in you once more and then bringing you mercilessly down again. The claw marks in his chest only get deeper while your yelps and moans echo off the unknown walls.

Beautiful claws sinking into his chest, he’s again hit with the fact that you are incredibly intriguing. You and your cunt enrapture him endlessly, falling him into a curious sentiment. A small human to ensnare him… he’s not sure if he likes the thought or not but what he does like — no, love — is you wailing on his cock about how you can feel all of him inside you. Slick your hole produces coating his cock so deliciously while your body accepts him wholly. You swear you could taste his cock in your throat if you focused hard enough, it does feel like your belly extends to accept him and as you finally gaze down to yourself, you realize it is.

With every thrust downwards his cock descends your tummy that he’s been watching this whole time and it only makes your gummy walls flutter rapidly around his cock once more, sending you over the edge once again, pulling an orgasm from your body.

He chuckles once more, watching as tears trail down your face, orgasm wracking your body as he continues to focus on your abdomen, hand trailing down to press at your stomach while the rest keep you steady and bouncing. Horrid wet slapping, fluids mixing together down his leg, groans resonating from his chest as he feels his hand through the skin of your abdomen. Your babbling moans and tears coating your face only spur him further, cock throbbing inside you as he releases his cum inside you. Ruthlessly filling all the spaces his cock couldn’t with a resounding grunt, cum gushing out of your cunt and most of it stretching your tummy even more than his cock before he pulls it out, white rushing out of your body while one more orgasm is pulled away from you.

Laying tired and used in his arms, he finally speaks “well, look at you vixen.”

You successfully took all of him, even if your body couldn’t handle the amount of cum he pumped into you he could just try again until he’s fully satisfied. Looking down at your sloppy cunt, covered in cum and trickling blood mixing with it and other liquids you can’t discern. Your hole feels like it’s gaping from the stretch his cock put you through. It is quite the sight for him to see, his cum claiming your insides and the marks on your behind claiming your outsides. You throw your head back into his hand and giggle. Red eyes peering down at you in curiosity, body buzzing and fuzzy, satisfied with your hands stroking his chest.

You finally remember what was missing from that stupid phrase your mother would preach to you:

“Curiosity killed the cat…

but satisfaction brought it back.”

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰: @kenmachishi @novvabeam @armins-bowl-cut @yourtamaki @jeonmahito @peachysimp @thethyri @undereiner and thank you to all the people who said yes to belly bulge y’all really helped me: @pupimouto @junisfics @katsukied @aqueencomplexx @dabitdabi @jeankirstins @viixens @iit-s-kitty

𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 !!

//: 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

[theshelbyclan]

Castle in the Sky

Summary: You’re the daydreaming sibling of the Shelby’s, but when the adventure spills over into real life, it’s not as great as you’d imagined

(Gif by @nofckingfighting​) A/N: A sweet anon requested: can I have request please Something like this Tommy was very protective over y/n and she gets hurt by one of the bad guys and sees blood on her face now all bruised but Tommy wants revenge Omg if you do so thank you so much for my request! ❤️ Huge fan of your works!This is set around season 1, back in the good old days when the only real enemy was Billy Kimber, remember those days? So easy… anyways, hope you like it J Words: 2933 ***

You were only nine when you started as a bookie’s runner for the Peaky Blinders. Nothing about this was special, half the kids of Small Heath worked for them, but there was just one difference: the Shelby’s were your brothers. It was a good job in many ways, because it meant not only being able to help your brothers, but people were inclined to give you a bit extra, just for being a Shelby. You imagined they thought it good luck.

“Y/N, take this to the other side of town, will you?” Tommy requested as he sat hunched over a newspaper. You protested a little, “Why me? I’ve done all of mine for today…” “This one’s extra, alright?” “Who is it?” you could never hide your inquisitive nature. But you only showed it around your brothers; to the rest of the world you were just quiet and practically invisible. He smirked slightly, “Someone who’ll pay up big. That’s why I need you to do it. Can’t trust any of the other kids not to steal…” “I have some homework to do, Tommy.” At thirteen, you were still at school, which was a minor miracle in Birmingham. “Tell you what: if you just do this one job, I’ll get you magazine you’ve been talking about, eh?” now he looked up and met your eyes. “Book, Tommy,” you smiled, “You might have heard of the concept? It’s a little like a magazine, a little like that newspaper, but with more pages? Some find it challenging, but once you get used to it…” “Alright, little miss know-it-all,” he grumbled without malice, “Go on, take the slip, make sure he bets all. Off with you. Stop outsmarting your old brother, eh?” He winked to make sure you were comfortable and you returned it with a big grin. “Where?” “Digbeth,” Tommy’s nose was back in the newspaper, “behind the Golden Dragon.” ***

As you were walking through the streets of Small Heath on your way to Digbeth, you were daydreaming. In a way it was strange just how different you were from your brothers, because the entire Shelby clan was very realistic, trying to make their way in this hard world, where you would rather pretend all day you were the main character in some story. The books you read, it was all an escape to you. So while you were walking, the people and factories disappeared. In your head, you were walking through the woods, on a secret mission that your king gave you. With the top-priority letter in your pocket, you remembered what he’d told you before you left: “If you get caught, eat the letter. If they capture you, make sure to be brave and never divulge its contents to anyone. And if all else fails, you must make the ultimate sacrifice. But remember, you have to memorize the contents of the letter first…” Wouldn’t it just be easier to memorize it now and destroy the letter immediately? You pondered on the matter… In the distance, you could see the mountains and the towers of another kingdom, and you knew your enemies were near. Without anyone noticing, you put a hand to your pocket and could feel the reassuring rustling of paper underneath your fingers: the letter was still there. If it would come to a fight, how would you go about it? If there were just one man, the small dagger in your boots would suffice. If it were two, you’d distract one, maybe by throwing the veil you were wearing, quickly turning around to kill the other and then back to the first one before he had time to recover. If there were more than three, you’d run, because you were the fastest after all. You’d get to higher ground and attack them from there, like a deadly shadow they could never see coming. As you smiled to yourself, you left the daydream for a short moment. You looked down and saw the muddy shoes you were wearing, marching through Birmingham mud. In the distance, all you saw was smoke and factory pipes. But it was honestly all you needed: your imagination did the rest. The real world barged in when you delivered the slip in Digbeth. Everything went smoothly at first. Your big brown eyes persuaded him to indeed bet big, and you were quite satisfied with yourself, knowing Tommy would be too. But you still had to walk back with a lot of money now in your pocket.

*** Almost home, there were only a few streets to go. Your head was back in the clouds and this time you were imagining you were a spy during the war. Silently, you moved through the streets, making yourself invisible and pretending every man wearing a hat was the enemy. So each time you saw one, you changed directions or hid for a second. It was a fun game, until you realised the enemy wasn’t wearing a hat. “Now, what’s a pretty girl like you doing on the streets, all by herself?” A man with a heavy Cockney accent popped up next to you and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out. In your dreams, you always knew what to say, but in reality it wasn’t so easy. The man approached you and you noticed he’d cut you off from your one exit out of the alley, “It’s Y/N Shelby, isn’t it,” he grinned. “No,” you managed to say, “you got the wrong girl.” He grinned again, “Nice try, sweetheart. We’ve seen you at the Garrison. They don’t allow little girls at the pub, unless they’re a Shelby.” This was all true. You felt your hands getting clammy. “Tommy sent you, didn’t he?” Again, you tried to remember what the hero in your stories would do. She’d run, climb the building and then throw a knife right between the eyes of the man. Or she’d say something clever, just to distract him, and then turn around and escape when he least expected it. He took another few steps forward and you could smell him now, a smell of strange smoke and the river, “Do you know who I am?” Nailed to the ground, you shook your head. “I work for Mr. Billy Kimber. Ever heard of him?” You turned to see if you could escape, but then realised the other side of the alley was blocked by two more men. Neither of them were wearing hats. Cold sweat of fear ran down your back. The man in front of you started laughing, “There’s no running, sweetheart. Just give it to me.” At once you realised he was referring to the money in your pocket, but for Tommy’s sake, you wanted at least to try to be brave, “I don’t have anything.” He sighed, “Don’t play with me. I’m not the kind of man to play with, and neither is Mr. Kimber,” his voice was suddenly low and menacing, “Your brother thought he could, thought he would get away with fixing a race, he did, and now he’s going to be put against the post and shot. Don’t think I won’t do the same to you.” You gulped, but still thought of Tommy’s disappointment in you when he would find out you’d been a coward. So you took a deep breath and said softly, “It’s not yours. This money is ours. You can tell Mr. Kimber to go fuck himself!” It didn’t come out as strongly as you’d hoped. Like a crack of thunder, he swiftly slapped you across the face with the back of his hand. All the air was knocked out of your lungs in a second and you stood gasping for air, as you felt some blood trickling down your chin. “Give me the money,” he demanded again. And then, like your heroes, you pretended to reach for it in your pocket. Suddenly, you turned around and started running into the other direction, hoping to slip past the two men before they could stop you. But it didn’t work. One grabbed your arm and when you tried to push him away, he punched you hard. All strength left you in an instant. The second one started fumbling in your pockets and instinctively you kicked him, which earned you another blow to the head. More punches followed and your head was spinning. As you looked up to the sky, you remembered wanting to get back home, to your castle, where all was well and safe.  In the end, they left you on the ground and the money was gone. Your last thought was: Tommy is going to be so embarrassed. 

*** “Y/N?” You opened your eyes, but couldn’t see for a moment. “Y/N,” the familiar voice repeated, “Come on, yes, let’s get you home. Polly, Polly will know what to do, yes…” Strong arms lifted you up and rocking with his familiar limp, Curly carried you back to Watery Lane. When he’d taken you into the kitchen, Aunt Polly flew to your side in seconds, asking, “What’s happened?” Uncertainly, Curly explained and as he did, he started to become upset over your state. That’s when Tommy came in and started to calm him, while keeping an eye on you all the time. “Sweetheart,” Aunt Polly had taken a cold cloth to the cut in your lip, “Wake up… Come back to us…” Again you tried opening you eyes and you finally managed this time. But all your concern was with Curly, who was still anxiously fidgeting with his cap in hand. “Don’t worry, Curly,” you croaked, “I’m alright now. You did good, carrying me here.” “Polly will know what to do…” he kept on repeating. Tommy put a hand on his shoulder and it had an immediate calming effect, “It’s alright, Curly, go back to Charlie, eh? We’ll take care of her now.” Before he left, you said to him, “Curly? I’ll stop by tomorrow, see about that beautiful horse of yours, alright?” That put an immediate smile on his face, “Yes, she’s a beauty, alright… And she needs her princess to ride her! Back to that castle in the sky…yes…” When he’d gone, you lowered your head again and sighed deeply. Carefully, you felt your face and only then realised how awful you must look. “Who did this,” Tommy demanded at once. Polly glared daggers at him, “You did, I presume?” “Me?” “I told you again and again not to use the little ones to run errands. Sending them across half of Birmingham with money in their pockets, and look what happens!” For a moment, Tommy seemed to be speechless. Then he protested, “They’re invisible, Pol. Nobody knows they’re carrying anything.” “This one did,” you interjected, “because he knew who I was.” “How?” “Said he was with Kimber,” you whispered as the memories came back to you, “said he’d put me up against a post and he’d shoot me, like he’d do with you…” In a sudden fit of rage, Tommy grabbed a chair and flung it across the room. Polly snarled at the gesture and then turned to you, “Stay here. This cloth is cold, keep it against your eye, or it’ll turn black in half an hour, and I can’t take you to church looking like that. I just need to have a word with your brother.” You took the cloth and didn’t dare to look at Tommy, who was now being taken away by his aunt like he was ten years old again and in trouble. Aunt Polly closed the door behind her, but you still tried to hear as much as you could. Most of it was lost, but when they started shouting you heard bits like “putting your little sister in danger!” and “this is Billy fucking Kimber, Thomas” and “family first”. At first Tommy protested with “I didn’t know they knew her” and “Kimber is getting weak”, but eventually he shouted out in defeat, “I fucked up, alright? I’ll fix it. I promise.” When they came back, Tommy looked like a dog that’d just been kicked. So he retreated into a corner and started smoking, still sulking a little. Aunt Polly lifted your head up by placing a finger under your chin, “You won’t look pretty for a week, but it’ll heal.” You shrugged, not caring about being pretty at all, and muttered, “I feel like an idiot…” “Why?” your aunt demanded, “because big men decided to go after a small girl?” Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes, as you admitted, “Because I wanted to be brave! In my stories I’m pretty and strong and the hero, but in reality I’m just like a mouse. No one notices me and I’m useless…” “Sweetheart,” Polly softened her voice and crouched down next to you, “Just because you can’t fight like Arthur or John can, doesn’t make you useless. We’re all stuck here, in Small Heath, and there’s nothing pretty about that. But you reading all those books? That’s what’s going to make this easier. You can pretend, and that’s worth more than you’ll ever realise.” You smiled back at your aunt, who always knew what to say to make you feel better. “I’m off to the chemist to get you some powder against the pain,” she kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be right back, love.” After she’d gone as well, you sighed again and dropped the cloth. Her words mattered, of course they did, but it didn’t change the fact that you weren’t happy with yourself at all. For starters, you still couldn’t bear looking at Tommy. “Y/N,” he grumbled, which convinced you even more he was angry and disappointed, “Tell me what they looked like.” “They didn’t wear hats…” Impatiently he waved a hand, “Apart from that. What else?” “I don’t know,” you shrugged, “it all happened fast, Tommy. They had that accent that Kimber has as well.” “Fucking Cockneys…” your brother breathed. “Tommy?” you tried carefully, “I’m so sorry, but I lost the money. I tried to keep it. When they asked I told them to fuck off and then I tried to run and even fight, but they still took it. I’m so sorry…” He held up a hand to silence you and locked eyes with you, “You told them to fuck off?” “Yes, but it didn’t help…” “You actually told them to fuck off?” he frowned, “Usually you’re too shy to even say anything to strangers…” “I was angry,” you explained, “and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Tommy walked over to you and much to your surprise, he was smirking, “So you told them to go fuck themselves, and then you fought them?” “Yes?” “Did you hit any of them?” You thought about it for a second, “I think I kicked one in the balls and hit the other in the face.” His grin grew even wider and he mumbled to himself, “Wait ‘till I tell Arthur about this…” “Why?” you protested, “So he can laugh at me as well?” “No, sweetheart, he’ll be the proudest brother ever. His little sister, who everyone thinks is a little mouse too scared to do anything? She fucking hit a grown man and told them to go fuck themselves. Now that’s a hero in my book!” His laugh was contagious and you had to join in. But soon you became uncertain again and asked, “Are you not upset I lost the money?” “The money’s not important,” his face grew serious again in an instant, “but you are.” “Really?” you whispered. “Yes,” he took your face in his hands, “Listen, Y/N, this is what’s going to happen: Billy Kimber threatened my little sister, so I’m going to put himup against the post, and shoot him.” “And then what?” “Well, what usually happens in your books? Maybe I could learn something from them, eh?” A warm feeling of being appreciated for who you were came over you, “You’d take his kingdom and his skull would be put up on the gates, as a warning for all future enemies.” “That’s fucking dark,” Tommy raised one eyebrow, “But I like it.” “Me too…” you smiled at your brother. “I mean it though, Y/N. Kimber touched you, so I’m going to shoot the bastard. I won’t let anyone fucking go near you again.” And just like that, you felt safe enough again to continue dreaming. *** A few weeks later, everything had turned to chaos, both in the Shelby household as in the whole of Birmingham. Tommy didn’t speak to anyone of what happened to you, he hadn’t even apologized, but he wasn’t like that. He told you he’d fix it, promised you revenge, and that was even better. When the men were counting minutes in front of the Garrison and Billy Kimber’s army arrived, you were sitting at home with a book. You couldn’t really concentrate, because you knew there were too many of them. You pretended some angel would appear to save them all. There’d have to be no bloodshed, because this angel would be on your brothers’ side. That angel came in the form of your older sister Ada. She’d always had flair. In the end, only two bullets were fired. You listened to them both. One killed Danny Whizz-bang. The other killed Billy Kimber. Nobody knew, but as Tommy fired, he didn’t have business on his mind.

As he aimed, he saw his little sister’s face, all bruised and battered.

He whispered, “for Y/N,” and shot.

Bang.

***

Masterlist

[pleasantanathema]

Jean Kirstein | French Kiss

Pairing: Jean x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Light Fem!Dom, Mommy Kink, Face Riding, Established Relationship

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Part of my Nine Muses Event to celebrate 9k! Follow the link to read other fanfics I’m writing to celebrate. A huge thank you to @whats-her-quirk​ for always encouraging me to write with all the love she gives me. I offer thee this humble slice of Jean. 💚

          You could have sworn Jean’s pretty face was made to fit between your legs, the missing puzzle piece you never knew you needed until he first let his nose slot between your folds.

           He liked to drown in you. Strong hands pawing at you, pulling you down, letting your thighs cling to his cheeks so tightly you’d burn ever so mildly from his scruff. He liked your weight on his mouth, just meant he could be smothered by his favorite thing in the world and get lost in your bittersweet taste.

           “Missed you,” your voice was already breathy, fingers digging into the long roots of his hair as you found your balance on his face. Jean hummed in response, letting his tongue do the talking as he licked a long, hot strip up the center of your cunt. Fingertips sunk deeper into the fat of your ass as you shivered in response to his actions.

           It had been a long day for him, one that had him eager to slip into your bedroom and wait for you to return from your shower. He was already naked and propped in the sheets when you arrived, thick neck tilting back in anticipation that you’d take your preferred seat. How could you deny a man what he worshipped most?

           Jean kissed sloppily at your folds, lips hungry, greedy, spreading you apart so his tongue could tease at your swelling clit. You couldn’t help but rock against him, shifting your weight on your knees as you tugged on his hair. Hazel eyes blinked up at you, a smirk curling against your cunt. But you tightened your fingers against his head, pulling him back so his nose brushed against you.

           “I’m in charge, baby,” you looked down at him over the curve of your breasts, emphasizing your point by rolling your hips, bringing yourself pleasure against the tongue that still lolled from his mouth.

           He mumbled against you, something that felt like a cheeky “sure you are.”

           Your confidence bubbled over, grin tugging at the corner of your mouth as you started to pull away from him. Shock flashed across his long brows as they pulled together, his long fingers trying to keep you pressed against his mouth. But you wriggled out of his grasp, strings of saliva snapping back against your wet pussy as you moved off his face.

           “Come back,” he whined, your thighs slipping through his fingers.

           “I’m not going anywhere.” You eyed his hard cock as you spoke, his length twitching under your gaze. You deftly turned around, enveloping his face with your inner thighs once again, bending forward so you could kiss the head of his cock and catch his moan against your cunt.

           Jean’s brawny arms locked around your legs, making sure to keep you in place this time as he buried his mouth back against your pussy, tip of his tongue tracing between your folds to gather your slick. You slid your fingers between the hard grooves of his stomach, twisting the downy hair of his happy trail between your fingers. Your pussy soaked up his groan, sharp chin rising as he pressed his tongue against your tight hole.

           Your nerves sang with the pleasure, a warm hum trickling down your body and building in your stomach. Jean’s hips twisted on the bed, the hard cock straining against his belly clearly becoming a burden to bear. You were tempted to take his pretty cock in between your lips, just to hear him grunt and feel him buck against you, but teasing him was far more alluring.

           A thrill raced down your spine as he dipped his tongue inside of you, wet muscle spreading your walls, French kissing your sloppy pussy.

           “You’re doing so good baby, fuck,” you praised him, actively feeling the heat of his blush against your skin. You rewarded him by scraping your nails lightly against his thighs, observing how his cock leapt through your fluttering lashes. Pre-cum was drooling from his tip, pleading for you to swirl and gather it on your tongue. You gritted your teeth and focused on the delightful feel of Jean working you with his mouth, tongue plunging into your depths like a man searching for absolution.

           You were getting a little dizzy with the pleasure, hips rolling against his face as you rode his lips and tongue. Slick was pouring from your pussy, dripping over his cheeks, his chin, getting caught in his beard only for it to be painted against your thighs.

           Vibrations rang into your pussy as Jean tried to speak, all his words being lost inside you. It sounded desperate, like begging, but you weren’t about to lift your cunt so you could hear them, not with the orgasmic ledge looming in short distance for you.

           You traced one of the veins on his cock with a soft fingertip, feeling more groans and grunts sound against your aching pussy in affirmation. You repeated the motion a few times, gathering some of his cum to smear down his length.

           “Want me to suck your cock?” Your voice was lilted in a singsong tone, little moans following.

           The way Jean’s face nodded against your wetness told you yes, yes please, but you’d make him work for it.

          “Yeah? Then make me cum, spell my name just how I like it.”

          His groan tickled your thighs, tongue obeying instantly as he removed it from inside of you, soothing over your hole before he started to lap at your clit in quick, successive strokes.

          Then you felt it, letters being smoothed against your swollen clit. At first they were slow, deliberate, letting you feel exactly what he was spelling. His tongue was hot and hungry, dexterous and silky.You rolled through the ecstasy, hissing out little coos of praise as your body was set alight from his ministrations. He purposely kept his pace level, kept you on the edge, before speeding up to a mind-numbing rhythm of m-o-m-m-y being spelled over and over again.

          “Jean, yesyesyeys, just like—”

          Your head fell as you came on his face, your nose brushing along the ridge of his weeping cock as you uncoiled like a flower in warm sun. If you didn’t know how much he loved it, it would have been embarrassing how much you spilled over his face. But he caught it all on his tongue, still tracing your name into your pussy like a man devoted and praying in the aftermath of glory.

          You knew he’d never stop unless you pulled away, always content to let you sit on his face so he could draw out as many orgasms as you wanted. You placed a teasing kiss to the head of his cock before you started to pull your hips from his face, having to struggle against the strength of his arms for a moment before he caught the hint.

          Slipping out of his grasp, you sat on your knees next to him, letting Jean catch his breath while you let your shaking legs calm down.

          “You’re such a good boy,” you whispered, leaning over his chest to lick at his lips. He tasted so fucking good when he tasted like you, tangy like sweet wine as the flavor hit the back of your cheeks.

          “Only for you.”

          You swallowed down his laugh as you pressed your mouth against his fully, hands sticking to his messy cheeks. You could tell his tongue was tired against your own, ready to rest against the bottom of his mouth.

          “I think you’re ready for a reward,” you slung one of your legs over his broad waist, taking a hold of his shoulders to steady yourself, “don’t you?”

          The way Jean smiled made your heart leap, all wet and glossy and full of pride.

          “Yes, mommy.”

[diosmio76]

What I Deserve (2) | soft Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky couldn’t believe his luck when he found you. So innocent, so alone, and so naive. He had been following you throughout the week, hell- he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore and you never noticed him once.

Pairing: Dark!Bucky x Reader

WARNINGS: +18, dub-con, needle use, stalking, fingering, kidnapping, kind of non-con (more dub-con but just incase)

Word Count: 3,076

A/N: my timeline on which version of Barnes is fucked up and a mix of everything honestly // my first ever time writing smut, and honestly I'm open to constructive criticism b/c I have no experience in this area LOLZ

You squeezed your eyes as you stretched your body. Feeling your comforter rise and fall against your skin from your movements. You hung your feet off your bed and stretched them before standing up. You did your usual set of morning stretches, were they done correctly? Probably not, but it was the thought that counts and the only form of self-care you gave yourself. You let out a sigh as you got ready for another day similar to all the rest. You don’t even remember what it felt like to be excited about waking up, but who were you to complain. You used the toilet as you went back and forth in your mind about nothing in particular, your eyes staring at your bed that was quickly losing the warmth it collected from your body. Once done in the bathroom you dragged yourself to your vanity, hearing the faint noise of cars on the street, you began getting ready for work. After changing and grabbing your tattered work bag, you began your journey with all the other commuters.

The day dragged on like any other, talking to coworkers only when they needed something from you. Hearing the usual remarks of “Oh, I didn’t notice you” or “I didn’t even see you there”, you got used to it but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you. Before you had time to dwell on it, it was time to go home. You packed your bag then began your walk home, following the same route you always take during the week. Taking a little solstice in the fact that you were just another face in the crowd, that fact made you feel as if everyone else was alone too. Once home you locked the door and dropped your bag, heading to the bedroom you changed into an oversized shirt and put on your slippers before heading towards the living room. You turned on the tv and lowered the volume for some background noise, making the short trip towards the kitchen to make dinner. You rarely got messages on your phone unless it was from your mom or your phone provider wanting you to update your old phone, so you scrolled mindlessly through various social media newsfeeds. You munched on a vegetable as you waited for your pan to heat up. You tried to not feel bad for yourself, you were the one to blame for the lack of social life but you were in too deep. Too set in your ways. You stared at the steaming pan as you imagined moving across the country.

“Yeah right” you said aloud to yourself as you finished cooking your dinner, eating the food but not really tasting it.

~~~

You repeated the same routine the next day, unbeknownst to you today was the day that Bucky decided you were ready. It didn’t take him long to find a house isolated by miles of forest. Despite its unassuming traditional exterior, the inside was modern as he enjoyed the impersonal nature that the style provided. He spent the majority of his time there making sure the house was locked and secure in case you tried anything. The thought made him laugh a little, knowing you didn’t have it in you but he didn’t want to take any chances. Things had been going his way lately, and finding you was like the universe was rewarding him even more. At first, he considered getting to know you, and doing the whole flowers and dates thing but decided he didn’t have the patience for all that waiting, he’s been waiting long enough and he deserved something good. He settled on a much easier method. Breaking in was easy, old apartments like this barely gave him any trouble. He even had someone hold the building door open for him, just his luck.

The lock felt weird when you opened your door but you didn’t think anything of it, dismissing it as another sign of the building’s old age. He watched from afar as you went about your usual routine. He was beginning to become skeptical at how oblivious you were. He was practically behind you and you hadn’t even looked over your shoulder once. He even made some accidental noises by stepping on squeaky floorboards and didn’t get a reaction from you, he took this as another lucky break. You were tired today and fell asleep relatively easily, considering how long it typically took you to fall asleep. Bucky walked around your apartment as he waited for you to enter a deeper sleep, familiar with everything since he had been in here a few times since first spotting you all those weeks ago. He looked at your book collection, a mix of genres, and looked closer at the few photos you had on display. A majority of the old photos seemed to be of your family from decades ago. He picked up one that seemed more recent, the only one you had up that included you. He recognized the other two people in it, your mom and sister, both busy with their own lives. He already sized up your family and it would be easy to handle them if he needed to.

He walked into your bathroom and went through your medicine cabinet, finding nothing out of the ordinary besides a few nail polish bottles and various allergy medicines. Finally, he noticed the soft snores coming out of your room. He shut the cabinet, staring at his reflection for a second. He knew this was the right thing to do and had no bad intention. He softly grunted at his pathetic moment of self-reflection and took out a needle filled with a small dose of anesthesia. He observed you for a moment as you slept, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows relaxed, he considered for a moment how easy it would be to take you, but reminded himself of the bigger picture. He easily found a vein and waited a few minutes before taking you to your new home.

~~~

You squeezed your eyes shut and smiled to yourself as you thought about how well you slept last night. You hummed as you kept your eyes closed briefly noticing the absence of warmth that the morning sun provided you in the mornings. You thought nothing of it, too distracted by the fact that this was probably the best night’s sleep you’d gotten in months. Despite that you still felt a little groggy, you began to move but quickly felt something rough holding you down. Your eyes shot open as your breathing began to quicken. You became conscious of the rough restraints around your arms and legs. You awkwardly lifted your head up as you tried to look around, it looked like a basement based on the unfinished walls surrounding you, a single lightbulb hanging above you on the unfinished ceiling. You attempted to calm yourself down by deeply inhaling but knew it was a lost cause once you heard the shaky exhale leave your mouth. You knew you couldn’t break free from the knotted rope holding you down. You had weak arms and tried to use your leg strength in an attempt to kick yourself free but felt it begin to sting as it irritated your ankles from the pressure. You sat in a deafening silence and felt completely petrified.

You let out a whimper as you heard footsteps approaching the door. The door opened as you saw a tall, broad man approach you. You were too scared to notice anything about him and began to feel yourself shake, causing you to miss the way he hungrily reacted to your frightened state. A shadow was cast on you as he stood over the bed. From the corner of your eye, you watched as his right hand lowered the comforter to your torso and expose your shirt as you twitched at the action. He smirked in response, your eyes following his hand as it hovered over the comforter as though he was going to do something. It exited your line of sight but your eyes were fixed in place. You heard movement as he straightened himself before speaking to you for the first time.

“Did you sleep well? You’ve been out for most of the day” His deep voice filled the room as you kept shaking, too scared to answer. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears and wondered if he could too, but he was too busy trailing his eyes over your torso. He noticed the way your nipples created peaks on your oversized shirt. He licked his lips before he moved his hand up to grab your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You did your best at avoiding his gaze keeping your gaze low, you swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to control your shaking but felt it intensify instead.

Still gripping your chin, a little tighter than necessary, and trying to control your shaking body got him hard. You looked so weak like this, it made him excited, a wicked smile painted his face as he looked down at your wide eyes and lips clamped together in terror.

“Look at me when I talk to you, doll”

You had a difficult time looking people in the eyes in general, so you lifted your eyes and stopped at his chin. You didn’t dare go any higher. He squeezed on your chin and heard him let out an amused chuckle. If you weren’t so terrified you would have noticed how out of place it sounded given the situation.

“That’ll have to do, for now, I can tell you’re terrified but you really have no reason to be. I only want to do what’s best for you- for us, I’m only doing what needs to be done.” He didn’t expect a response and stared at you as he let you sit with his words.

He took a moment and let his hand trail down from your chin. He felt the nervous swallow as his pointer finger trailed lower and lower. His finger deviated from its straight path as he placed his palm against your chest, pausing to feel your heartbeat racing. He almost felt sorry as he felt its frantic rhythm. He couldn’t help himself as he cupped your left breast. His thumb gently circling around the hard bud. You scrunched your eyebrows and scolded yourself for getting pleasure from his action. His gentle touch was a strong contrast to the situation he had put you in.

His finger continued its journey down and stopped just above your mound. You swallowed as you felt his eyes staring at you intently, not daring to see if you were right. He lifted his hand momentarily as he moves to sit next to you, hearing the springs groan under him, pushing the comforter towards the bottom of the bed. You get chills as warmth escapes, feeling the crisp air conditioning surround your body instead. Jerking at his touch, he returns his right hand to your body just below your navel this time. His fingers trace down until it feathered above your mound. You held your breath as if any noise from you would assure that he would continue his actions as if he would forget you were there. You felt his pause when his fingers hit the material of your cotton underwear. He slowly traces a short line along your clit, you ball your hands into fists wanting to make him stop. Why was your body enjoying this?

You hold your breath as he gently pulls them down till they were at your knees and returns his hand to its previous place. The empty room is quiet, amplifying the sound of both of your breaths. You feel his middle and ring finger move lower gently stroking your folds. You hear him let out a surprised huff as he continued stroking.

“I was gonna bring lube, but it looks like we won’t be needing it, huh sweetheart?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, he was right. You felt heat building ever since he grabbed your chin, but he didn’t need to know that. All you wanted to do was at the very least was cover your face, but felt the irritation of the rope on your wrists instead. He began back and forth on your heat for a few moments. The room now having the added noise of his fingers slowly speeding up as he stroked you. You shut your eyes as he circled around your entrance, you could already tell his fingers would be significantly bigger than yours. He slowly inserted a finger as you sucked in a quick breath. You could hear him let out a quiet groan as he watched his finger disappear into your hole.

After finding a rhythm he added another finger. You let out a whimper at the fullness of both of his thick fingers filling your hole. It stung at first, hurting slightly you wanted to try and stop his intrusion. Besides your finger, you had never had anything else inside of you. You felt slightly embarrassed by this when you were younger but as you got older you accepted the fact that your lack of social life was a major reason as to why you never had anything close to a romantic partner. Never being social enough to meet someone that you would want to be friends with, let alone sleep with. You felt as though you should tell this man, did you even know his name, that this was the farthest you’ve ever gone with anyone before. Before you think any more about it you open your mouth, nothing coming out at first but it was enough for his eyes to go to your face. He slowed down his pace and had his eyes trained on your face waiting for you to speak as if his fingers weren’t leisurely stroking your soft walls in the meantime.

“I- I think I need to tell you something” The words left you slowly and your voice was shakey as you tried to speak and ignore your oncoming orgasm at his rough fingers stroking you gently. Why did you feel like you owed him this? You briefly thought to yourself. But it was too late to stop now.

He smirked at you as he waited for you to continue on. So far, you’ve shown him nothing but submissiveness. Cementing the fact that he made the right choice when he chose you. He didn’t plan on being this gentle with you originally but he couldn’t help it, feeling as though any other treatment would scare you away. His fingers never stopping their gentle strokes, he watched your lips as your quiet voice trembled on.

“I’ve never really, I haven’t done any of this before. I’m a virgin” the words leave you slowly, you gulp and still refuse to meet his gaze, scared for a moment that you would lose the gentleness he has given you thus far. You knew that wouldn’t stop him, but a small part of you hoped it would be enough for him to stop just for now. For the first time you decided to look at his face, still too scared to meet his eyes you opted to watch his mouth as you waited for a response.

To say he was ecstatic was an understatement. You had chosen to tell him this on your own, he didn’t even get a chance to ask you. He didn’t want to assume but based on his observations of you he had an inkling that this was the case. He felt proud of you, his perfect girl. He smiled gently at you in response. You shivered as his fingers paused their gentle strokes in you as he moved to kiss the top of your head.

“Thank you for telling me, my good girl” it sounded patronizing but your body thought otherwise. Feeling heat shoot straight to your core at his response. He felt you squeeze around his fingers at his response.

Once he felt that you adjusted to his fingers he began to alternate inserting them. Thrusting one and then the other inside of you. Your eyes squeezed shut, you never felt this close to cumming so quickly. Your eyes swelled with tears as you quietly sobbed, reaching your climax. Both of you watched as he pulled his fingers out of your sensitive heat. Covered in slick from your climax. You watched as he moved his fingers close to his face, smirking at you.

“Just a little taste for now,” he said he brought his fingers to his mouth to suck on his two fingers that were just inside you seconds ago. The empty room amplified the sound, your face felt hot as you watched the lewd act feeling your core still throbbing.

He reveled in your obvious embarrassment, humming at your reaction. He wiped his damp fingers on his pants as he got up. You blinked slowly, taking in what had just happened. You had enjoyed what had just happened but felt angry at yourself for that. He shouldn’t have done that, and you had let yourself succumb to his fingers so easily. He watched you, deep in thought with your eyes spaced out. His cock throbbed as if reminding him he needed a release too but he didn’t want to scare you. He had a plan, but you had just showed him that he didn’t have to be as rough as he initially thought with you. And he wouldn’t ever admit it but he couldn’t have even if he wanted to, as soon as he interacted with you it was almost as if he needed to handle you with care. Something that he thought wasn’t in his nature, but for you, maybe he’d try.

He felt his confident demeanor waver for a second, an odd feeling. He needed to get away from her and have a moment alone, so with a quick glance, he turned towards the door and practically ran out of the room without speaking to her.

Too busy thinking, you didn’t notice the foreign feelings your captor had just experienced. Only noticing this broad figure leaving the room as if he was late for something. If you weren’t so busy scolding yourself you would have wondered if you had done something wrong to elicit that action from him.

[inkykeiji]

do i make you scared? baby won’t you take me back

characters: dabi | todoroki touya, shigaraki tomura

genre: smut with a bit of angst sprinkled over it

notes: the second part of a companion piece to i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back. i’m really not kidding when i say this is almost entirely smut. uhhh virgin!tomura is a nasty nasty boy, please please please heed the warnings and stay safe! <3 | title credit: save that shit by lil peep

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), non-consensual branding (yes, branding in the sense that something is being burned into the skin), noncon/dubcon, dacryphilia, cheating, degradation/dumbification, emotional manipulation, cumplay/snowballing, cockwarming, size difference, generally toxic relationships

words: 7.1k

synopsis:

“Was it good?” he seethes, eyes narrowed sharply. You think you might be able to detect a hint of distress sown into his voice, but you have no time to meditate on the thought as he yanks again, pulling your head back further. “Was it worth it?”

Glistening tears stream down your cheeks and you exhale harshly through your nose, teeth gritted as you urgently try to stop crying.

“Fucking answer me,” he growls out the words, but he sounds almost…desperate? You’ve never heard his voice like this before, and it’s then that it finally dawns on you.

You got him back.

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To your surprise, you spend the rest of your night the day after the party texting Tomura, and every time your screen lights up with a message from him, it sends a whole flock of butterflies fluttering in your tummy. You should feel guilty, really, but you’ve never been in a situation like this before and it’s…exhilarating.

It’s risky, answering these texts when Touya’s a mere few feet from you, but it sends sparks shooting up your spine, the idea of getting caught doing something you’re definitely not supposed to, the very thought of how upset he’d be if he knew, making you feel giddy.

You guard your phone closely for the rest of the week, deleting messages exactly after you send them—Touya has taken it and gone through it in the past, so it wasn’t far-fetched to think he may try to do the same thing again. It wasn’t like he didn’t notice your nose in your phone, little giggles bubbling up from your chest as you responded to whatever was on the screen. You can see it in his eyes, the frustration building each and every time a soft laugh escapes your lips, eyes glimmering as you tap out a response.

You plan your impending visit strategically, in tandem with Tomura. He knows Touya’s unpredictable and seemingly ever-changing schedule better than you do, and you both know that there’s absolutely no way in hell Touya would ever willingly let you hang out with each other—he barely leaves the two of you alone when Tomura comes over to your house, so you can only imagine how livid he’d be if you even asked to go spend some time with him, just the two of you.

You wear your prettiest dress—Touya’s favourite dress, a deep, satiny crimson—two inches too short to be considered proper, the hem brushing your midthigh. It hides a pair of baby pink cotton panties you’re sure Tomura will like.

Your veins thrum with the combined mix of terror and anticipation as he lets you in, and the heady combination has your entire body trembling. Tomura gives you a look as you kick your shoes off, eyes narrowed as they scan your body.

“You comin’ down or something?”

“I-I’m not allowed drugs,” you admit meekly, eyes falling to your feet, toes wiggling a bit.

Tomura snorts, an amused little smirk on his lips as he mutters, “No, of course not,”

Long, slender fingers wrap around your wrist, his cold touch making you jump, giving a slight yank as he begins leading you. He lives alone, in an apartment his father pays for—which is surprisingly much tidier than you expected—and you can’t help but look around curiously, eager to learn more about him, glazed eyes searching for hints in the empty takeout containers littering the counter, in the few articles of clothing strewn around the place.

Brows knit together when he bypasses his bedroom completely—the door wide open to reveal a large bed with blue sheets tangled at the bottom—and leads you to a living room with plush couches and an ornate rug you’re positive he didn’t pick out by himself. His fingers release, and he plops down on the floor, hands curling around a gaming controller. Scarlet eyes drift to you, up your legs and to your face, and you resist the urge to shiver under his intense gaze—you’re sure he can see straight up your dress from this angle.

But he does nothing except look at you expectantly, not breaking his stare until you finally sit down next to him, daintily tucking your knees under yourself.

Then he’s shoving an extra controller at you almost aggressively, the sudden motion pulling a gasp from your throat, making you flinch away.

“Relax,” he rolls his eyes, pushing the controller at you again and shaking it a little in his hand, trying to entice you to take it. “I’m not gonna hurt you, or anything,”

“You…You’re—what?”

Tomura observes you carefully, scrutinizing now, eyes narrowing a little as they scan your face. You stare back at him dumbly, lips slightly parted. “What?” he snaps.

“But I thought—I mean, I want you to—”

“What?”

“That came out wrong,” you rush to say, shutting your eyes tightly in embarrassment. “What I mean is…Um, didn’t I come over so we can like, fuck?” your cheeks burn as you force the words out, ears ringing as blood rushes to your face, so loud you almost miss his sharp intake of breath.

Tomura’s eyes widen and he stares at you for a long moment before he checks his phone, scrolling through your messages. “You said…You wanted to play video games?”

You look at him, blinking in astonishment. “And you believed that?”

Tomura frowns a little, eyebrows knitting, slightly defensive. “Well, yeah?”

You’re at a loss for words as you stare back at the man sitting cross-legged in front of you, watching you closely. This is the guy Touya so desperately didn’t want you to be around?

Powerless to stop the little giggle that bubbles up in your throat, you inch towards him on your knees. “You’re kinda cute, y’know?”

Soft notes of tiger orchid and sweet sticky toffee waft over him, your body heat clinging to his skin as you settle beside him, thigh touching his knee. He seethes at you, and his fingers twitch around the controller, a hand moving to rake his nails against his neck.

You reach out, little fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling it away from his flesh.

“Do you want to?” you ask softly, gazing at him through your lashes, bringing his palm to rest over your breast.

“Are you stupid?” he spits, fingers instantly tightening the moment they meet satin, the strength of his grip making you gasp. “Of course I fucking want to. Do you know how many times I’ve jerked off to you? Christ,”

Warmth blossoms in your chest at the confession, sparking a dull heat that begins to spread deep in the pit of your stomach. You’re flattered, even though you can hear Touya’s voice in the back of your mind, sharp and condescending, reprimanding you for being so easy.

“Yeah? What did you think about?” Your voice quivers a little as you ask the question, but that doesn’t stop his ruby eyes from darkening, his free hand dropping the controller to shamelessly rub at the bulge in his jeans.

“How cute your little cunt must be, how sweet it’d taste, how good those lips would feel wrapped around my cock as I fuck your throat,” his voice drops an octave as he speaks, low and dangerous as he kneads your breast hard—too hard, but adrenaline keeps the pain from registering.

He’s reaching for you now, pale hands pawing at your hips and dragging you over, forcing you to straddle his lap. A soft whimper falls from your lips as he instantly begins rolling his hips up, like he can’t bear to wait, fingers digging into your flesh as they hold you in place.

Neither can you, apparently, because you begin wiggling a little in his grasp, trying in vain to rut against him.

“You’re a little whore, huh? Even with a virgin, you can’t help but grind on a hard cock,” he smirks, lips at your ear. “A hard cock’s a hard cock I guess, makes no difference to you, greedy little slut,”

A mewl escapes your throat as you nod, hips pushing forcefully against his, grinding your little cunt against rough denim.

Wait, virgin?

“A v-virgin?”

“Yeah, lucky you,”

His words taper off into a growl, vibrating in his chest, hands leaving your waist to cup your jaw and roughly pull your face to his, lips crashing into yours. You emit a soft, startled noise into his mouth, and he swallows it greedily, tongue forcing its way through your parted lips and into your mouth, commanding your own tongue into submission almost instantaneously.

It’s nothing like kissing Touya. Your body follows your tongue, melting into him. Fingers grip your jaw, pressing crescent indents into the skin as he guides your head to exactly where he wants it to go.

It isn’t romantic. It’s harsh, and desperate, a mess of teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. A hand tangles in your hair and pulls, forcing your head back and revealing your arched neck to him. His lips trail down the column of your throat, leaving wet, sloppy kisses in their wake.

“I wanna fuck you already,” he whines a little, aggressively thrusting against your clothed core. You moan out an affirmative noise, nodding.

“One rule,” you breathe out.

“Hmm? And what’s that?” his lips are against your neck, tongue painting it in glistening saliva with slow, languid strokes.

“No marks,” you yelp out just as his teeth sink into your skin. It stings, Tomura keeping his mouth latched onto your neck for a few seconds, teeth buried in the soft flesh. His tongue laves over the mark before pulling away completely, and a shiver crawls up your spine as the bite is exposed to the cool air.

He’s giggling into your shoulder, nipping at the skin superficially. “Oops,”  

“Tomura!” you whine, making no effort to pull his lips from your neck. “Touya’s going to murder me,”

He laughs again, pulling back and rolling his eyes. “And, what? He isn’t already going to kill you for fucking someone else?”

There isn’t a moment to respond, though, not a second to try and explain how weird Touya gets about marks in particular, because then he’s crushing his lips to yours again, hard, fervent, bruising.

“Gonna cum soon if you don’t fucking do something,” he practically snarls into your mouth.

The very thought of Tomura cumming in his pants just from a few minutes of dry humping makes your entire stomach flutter, a flash of pure confidence surging in your chest as involuntary words tumble from your mouth.

“Oh?” you murmur, breath hot against his lips. “Something? Like this?” you begin gyrating your hips in tiny, quick circles, giggling at the groan you rip from his throat.

And Tomura hates how fucking innocent you sound, gazing at him with glassy eyes and swollen lips and a sinful little smile.

“Stop,” it’s supposed to be a command, an order, but it comes out as a broken whine, his hands latching onto your hips again as he forces you to move even faster, rocking into you.

“Doesn’t feel like you want me to stop,” you pout a little and he huffs out a curse.

It’s intoxicating, to be in a position of power like this. It isn’t your favourite—you’re much too shy and indecisive to be in a role like this all the time—but the novelty of it excites you nonetheless. Touya never lets you do anything like this, hates being teased with a passion, but Tomura seems to enjoy it, like it’s some sort of game to him.

“Little bitch,” he breathes out, though his forehead is resting against yours, eyes shut, soft grunts spilling from his throat.

“C’mon, Tomura,” you whimper, and now it sounds like you’re the one begging. “Make a mess in your pants for me? P-Pretty please?”

That’s all it takes to have his hips stilling, fingers pressing bruises into your skin as he grips you tightly, holding you in place and forcing you to grind against him ever-so-slightly as his cock throbs and twitches in his jeans.

You expect him to push you off immediately after, to shout and berate you for such behaviour, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans back against the bottom of the couch, arms encircling your waist and bringing you with him.

It must be uncomfortable, to sit in those soiled jeans filled with cum, but he doesn’t seem to care, more interested in exploring your mouth with his tongue as you kiss lazily. You don’t mind, although your clit is aching and swollen, pussy fluttering around nothing every so often as his fingers explore your body, kneading your ass and tweaking nipples, your panties soaked all the way through and sticking to you unpleasantly.

And it’s due to this that your hips still manage to rock against his in minuscule movements that are more teasing than anything else, little micro-circles that have your drenched cunt grinding gently against wet denim.

It seems he has an impossibly short refraction period because, before long, his cock’s hard again, pressing up into your clothed hole. You whimper his name into his mouth and he breaks the kiss, lips red and puffy, shining with saliva.  

“Take my cock out,” he instructs, voice stern despite his slight breathlessness. You crawl off his lap and do as your told, popping the button, tugging the zipper down and pulling at the waistband of his jeans. He lifts his hips just enough to aid you in dragging them down to his thighs, cock springing free.

“Clean it up,”

It’s covered in cum, so much cum—too much cum, more than is normal—glistening in the low light of the living room. It twitches a little under your gaze, as if to say get on with it already, so you wrap a hand around the base and bring the head to your lips.

You start with kitten licks, tongue tracing around the head and playing with the slit, pulling a deep, throaty moan from him.

“Don’t—Don’t swallow it,” he rasps. “Clean me up and keep all my cum in your mouth,”

It’s difficult—his cum is much more bitter than Touya’s, and you gag a few times as it settles on your tongue, marinating in your mouth. You try your best to hold it in your cheeks and away from your tastebuds, working as quickly as possible as you lap it up, gazing up at him with teary eyes when you’re finished.

“What a good girl,” he spits in a patronizing tone, like it’s an insult. “Kiss me,”

It’s a demand you have no choice but to obey, a hand rooting in your hair and yanking you up to face him.

He all but smashes your lips together, fingers still wrapped tightly in your hair, holding you in place. His tongue forces its way through your lips and you greet it eagerly, desperate to get his cum out of your mouth.

Except he doesn’t let you pull away after you’ve passed the majority of his cum to him, the bitter taste still stinging your tongue. No, he uses the fist tangled in your hair to keep you still as he shoves his tongue into your mouth again, transferring the cum—now watered down a little with his saliva—into the warm cavern yet again.

You whine, and he chuckles, lips spreading into a grin against yours.

“Swallow it,” he whispers, pulling back just enough to watch your expression as you force it down your throat, face souring, eyes squeezed shut as your lips pucker just a little. “Open, lemme see,”

Your mouth falls open obediently, little droplets of water clinging to your lashes as you gaze up at him, waiting for approval.

“Good,” he practically purrs, eyes darkening as his fingers caress your face. “Now I want to fuck you,”

You’re nodding, but he doesn’t give you a moment to respond, beginning to manhandle you into the position he wants before he’s even finished speaking. The oriental rug is soft against your cheek as he presses your face to the ground, hands curling around your hips as he hoists them up.

“What cute little panties,” he breathes, dragging a finger along your clothed slit before yanking the material down to your knees.

It stings a little as he practically shoves his cock into your sopping cunt, not bothering to stretch you out—you’re not even sure if he knows he’s supposed to—but you’re wet enough that the breach is relatively easy, and the burning fades quickly as your little hole adjusts to the girth of his cock.

He begins thrusting immediately, and he’s rough, overeager, uncoordinated, the vicious snaps of his hips uneven and sloppy.

Truthfully, he’s only using you as a hole the first time, but you don’t mind—not really, anyway. Blazing sapphire sears through your mind, and you think about how furious Touya would be if he knew, if he could see the way you’re degrading yourself, letting yourself be reduced to nothing but a fucktoy for a nasty virgin to desperately hump away at, sacrificing your own pleasure for his.

Touya would never.

To Touya, making you cum is half the fun. He gets a rush from it, gets high off the way you go absolutely fucking stupid from his fingers and cock, how quickly he can turn your brain to soup, rendering you a dumb little blabbering mess only capable of whining out the words niichan and Touya-nii. It feeds his ever-growing ego.

But Tomura is eager to please in a different way. He’s more selfish than Touya, sure, but he’s keen to learn all he can, curious and committed.

And, once he finally gets the hang of it, confident, too.

His thrusts gain more finesse as he fucks you, but he’s unable to keep up any steady rhythm, the tight fluttering of your pussy every time he grazes a specific spot inside of you making his hips stutter, forcing needy, guttural groans from his throat.

He cums quick—not that you expect any less from a virgin—with a deep growl of your name that has your stomach swooping, cunt throbbing around him again as he fills you with thick, burning cum.

You’re exhausted by the end of it, abused body melting into the lush carpet as your cunt throbs desperately, his cum slowly oozing out of it. Tomura snorts as he looks down at you, gentle hands tugging your panties down the rest of your legs and removing them completely, discarding them a few feet away.

“Up you go,” he’s murmuring as hands snake under your armpits and haul you up. You mumble his name and he hushes you, collapsing heavily on the couch with you still in his arms. Strong hands manhandle you into straddling his lap again, leaking pussy pressed against his softening cock.

The television hums to life, quiet main menu music floating through the room as the soft clicking of buttons sounds behind you.

You should go home now. You know you should. You’ve done what you came here to do, and now you should be leaving.

Should, should, should.

But Tomura’s so warm, and you’re so tired, muscles aching despite the fact that he did most of the work.

“Rest,” he instructs quietly when you begin to whine into his neck, fingers preoccupied with unwrapping a piece of watermelon bubblegum.

He’s so much softer than you expected—disgusting, but soft—and you can’t believe you spent months being terrified of him. You know this is probably the last time you’ll be able to see him in a long time—a fact that produces an inexplicable ache deep in your chest—so you allow yourself bask in the moment, just for a little, you promise yourself.

You obey his gentle command, snuggling up against him and permitting yourself to drift in and out of consciousness to the sound of aliens being killed and aggressive button smashing.

But then something hard is poking you—you aren’t sure how long you’ve been sitting here for now, long enough for Tomura to power through a few matches, at least—and that blistering heat flares again, beginning to coil tight in your tummy.

You shift a little, an involuntary whine slipping from your lips.

“What is it?” Tomura asks, eyes never straying from the screen, fingers never pausing. “You wanna sit on my cock, baby?”

Christ, yes. You mumble into his shoulder, nodding and rolling your hips in response.

He chuckles—a low, quiet sound rattling around in his chest—and allows you to sink down on him again, captivated by the soft moan you emit as you do so, crimson eyes gleaming and breathing slightly laboured.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters when his avatar on the screen gets shot, redirecting his attention.

And it’s…it’s nice. Surprisingly nice. He’s cozy, and comfy, his breathing slow and even with every rise of his chest, despite the alien shrieks coming from the TV behind you. He smells like cheap cigarettes and artificial watermelon with just a hint of cedarwood, and you inhale deeply, letting the scent fill your lungs.

Touya rarely lets you cockwarm him; Touya doesn’t have the patience, Touya doesn’t have the time. You fall into a state halfway between asleep and awake, hips rocking against Tomura just enough to keep him hard, just enough to have you whimpering into his neck.

He could get used to this, he tells you. The confession is soft, a private little thought that just kinda slips out, mindlessly falling from his lips, but you could, too, you think.

It’s intimate, which is odd, considering you barely know him, used to be frightened of him. But it’s such a refreshing contrast to Touya’s intense, scalding flame.

Eventually, though, it isn’t enough, the teasing’s too much, and you need more.

Gazing up at him with glittering eyes, you begin to trail your lips up his neck, over his self-inflicted scars, slowly, hesitantly.

He inhales sharply, jumping a little in surprise, and you freeze, terrified you might’ve overstepped some invisible boundary you were not previously aware of.

“Keep going,” he whines, a little petulantly, hips wiggling against yours.

Lips resuming their ministrations, you place gentle, chaste kisses up the column of his throat and along his jaw, delighting in each soft sigh you manage to pull from him. The game playing on the TV suddenly halts, Tomura throwing the controller on the couch cushion next to you before large hands cup your face in a tender way you did not think him capable of.

Your mouths slot together, kissing messily, saliva glistening on your chins as you pass his watermelon gum back and forth between yourselves. It’s kinda gross, kinda filthy, juvenile and sloppy, but it’s fun, has the two of you giggling into each other’s mouths, a little breathless from it all.

“Wanna ride you,” you murmur, almost shyly, against his slippery lips.

“Yeah?” he rasps, just barely bouncing you in his lap. “You wanna use my cock to get off?”

“Yes, please,” the plead comes out as a pathetic whimper, and you squirm impatiently.

Finally, finally you get to cum. In this position, you have leverage over the angle of your hips, able to situate yourself just right, so his cockhead nudges exactly where you want it to.

He does nothing this time, just leans back and watches you with those dark, half-lidded scarlet eyes, hands idly exploring your thighs, occasionally raking his nails down them. He’s in a trance as he gazes at you, mesmerized by the way your eyes are starting to roll back, by the way each drag of his cock against that spot has you keening, by the way his name leaves your lips in broken little whines that have him gasping in response.

Your hips speed up, and you’re desperate, so desperate to cum, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders through his thin t-shirt.

“Gonna—” he starts, breathless. “Gonna cum?”

You nod a little frantically as eager hips rock against him, his hands finally finding your waist and helping you move.

“Please,” he whimpers. “Wanna feel you,”

And it’s his begging that does it, that finally sends you over the edge, pussy clenching around him, convulsing almost painfully and gushing on his cock with a sharp cry of his name. He follows immediately after, painting your insides with hot cum as a curse hitches in his chest.

Your body collapses against him, going pliant and boneless as you both pant. Everything feels heavy—you haven’t had an orgasm that intense in a while—and the absolute last thing you want to do is get up and walk home.

Tomura can sense it. He can feel it in the way your fingers are knotting in his t-shirt, in the way your hips try to scoot forward, chest pressed against his tightly, and he wraps an arm around you, trying to keep you close for just a minute more.

Silence blankets the room as the two of you calm your breathing. You’ve been anticipating a certain sense of awkwardness to finally wash over you all night, but it never comes. Instead, it’s pleasant, and you hum a little, nuzzling your face into Tomura’s shoulder as skinny fingers brush through your hair.

“I don’t wanna go,” you say, and it’s so quiet, muffled by the material of his shirt, that he barely hears it. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to.

“Just stay,” he mumbles, resting his chin atop your head. “Text your dad some bullshit, or whatever,”

You want to. You’re surprised at how much you desperately want to.

“Touya will kill me,”

“Touya’s gonna kill ya either way, sweetheart,”

You suppose that’s true. Neither of you tricked yourselves into thinking that you’d actually get away with this. Touya will know the moment he sees you, will probably be able to smell Tomura all over you, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care, not in that moment, not when Tomura’s so comfy and you’re so sleepy and it’s all just nice.

Good, you think. It’s about time he gets a taste of how much stuff like this hurts.

And so you find yourself crawling into his bed, in one of his t-shirts, with bruises in the shape of his fingertips rapidly blossoming, heat seeping into your cheeks when he tells you he thinks you look cute in his clothes.

He latches onto you the moment you’ve settled into his mattress, long arms encircling your waist and dragging you towards him. One of your legs slots between his, and you have to stifle a giggle.

“Hard again, Tomura?”

“Shut up,” he says, no heat to his voice. “Can’t help it,”

His words echo your own, three simple words you’ve said so many times to Touya, and you feel a pang in your chest.

“Not my fault you’re too hot,” he continues, grumbling into your neck.

Honestly, you didn’t peg him as a cuddler, and maybe he isn’t—maybe he just wants to grind and hump against your thigh—but you welcome the warmth of his body nonetheless.

It doesn’t bother you, although it probably should, as he ruts against you, tiny broken moans and high, breathy whines being exhaled against your neck. But it’s so new, all of this is so new to you, and curiosity clouds your better judgement. While you’re pretty sure you should be shoving him away, reprimanding him for such behaviour, positive that’s what any normal person would do, you don’t. Little fingers thread in his hair instead, carding through silvery-blue fluffy tufts, reveling in the groan it pulls from him.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum, thick and sticky in his boxers, the material wet against your thigh. You’re impressed, both by how easily he cums, and how much he cums. You want to tell him, want to tease him about it a little, let him know you think it’s cute, but heavy, hazy fatigue begins to wash over you, and you fall asleep to Tomura’s soft breaths mingled with the sound of you phone buzzing, over and over and over again.

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Your phone’s dead when you wake sometime in the early afternoon, and for that, you’re thankful. Anxiety floods your stomach, bubbling up in your chest acidly as you think about what’ll be waiting for you when you recharge it.

Tomura walks you to the door, which you find to be very odd behaviour, but sweet nonetheless, and watches carefully as you slip on your shoes.

“Uh, text me later, okay?” He sounds unsure for the first time since you’ve been with him, and your expression softens.

“I will, if Touya doesn’t take my phone away,”

And you pretend to miss the look on his face, the way his eyebrows knit as a hand comes to scratch idly at his neck, the way he looks almost worried. It’s fine. You’ll be fine.

       ✰          ✰          ✰  

He knows. The moment you step foot through the front door, he knows.

You knew he would, but it doesn’t make the glare scathing your skin any less terrifying.

He’s on you in an instant—you didn’t even know humans could move that fast—pinning you to the drywall, large hands wrapped around your wrists and forcing them above your head, keeping you trapped.

“You little slut,”

Unexpected anger flares in your chest, even though tears are already beginning to collect in your eyes, and you squirm in his grasp.

“I fuck one other person, and I’m the slut?”

You gasp the moment the words leave your lips, wide eyes searching his face and shaking your head frantically, would slap your hands over your mouth if they weren’t currently secured in his bruising grip against the wall.

The look he gives you is absolutely petrifying, blue eyes darker than the ocean—so dark they almost look black—his stare cold and hard as stone, sending sharp spikes of ice up your spine.

“You fucking reek of him,” he spits, face screwing up in disgust. You’re sure you do, too, after spending a good twelve hours in his bed, almost positive you can smell him in your hair, the remnants of cheap cigarettes and artificial watermelon clinging to you.

Patronizing eyes rake over you, zeroing in on the violet that’s bloomed on your neck. His nostrils flare as he stares at it, breath beginning to come in rapid, uneven huffs. His eyes slowly drift back to yours, an unreadable expression settling on his face.

It’s shock, and disbelief, and rage, and…and sadness? It passes too quickly for you to even tell, and then he’s pulling your wrists down callously, still gathered in his hand, and dragging you towards his room.

He all but throws you on his bed face first, breathing harsh and erratic as he exhales forcefully through his nose and climbs on top of you, knees on either side of your thighs. A large hand wraps itself in your hair and tugs, forcing your upper body to arch.

“Was it good?” he seethes, eyes narrowed sharply. You think you might be able to detect a hint of distress sown into his voice, but you have no time to meditate on the thought as he yanks again, pulling your head back further. “Was it worth it?”

Glistening tears stream down your cheeks and you exhale harshly through your nose, teeth gritted as you urgently try to stop crying.

“Fucking answer me,” he growls out the words, but he sounds almost…desperate? You’ve never heard his voice like this before, and it’s then that it finally dawns on you.

You got him back. Sure, he’s furious beyond belief, looks like he could kill you right here, right now, with his bare fucking hands—but he’s also extremely upset, if the slight quiver present in his voice is any indication.

“Yes,” you wheeze out. If it made him feel even an ounce of the emotional turmoil he’s put you through with his whores, then yes, it was absolutely worth it.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” his voice is low, threatening, calm. It’s disturbing, how quickly he can switch, and a chill of unease settles deep in your bones—once Touya stops with his growls and snarls, once his voice becomes monotonous and almost serene in a way, that’s when you know he’s really angry.

Shoving your head down into the mattress, he tells you to stay fucking put as he gets up and wanders over to his desk. He returns to the bed moments later with a tool that vaguely resembles a pen, hand tangling in your hair again as he pulls you up.

“You know what this is?”

You shake your head as best you can.

“It’s a soldering iron,” his voice is still composed and collected, sounding almost as if he’s explaining something to a child, but there’s a malevolent glint in his eye, a look you’ve never seen before. “It gets really, really hot. I just so happened to be warming one on my desk,”

He says it so nonchalantly, as if this is an object one would regularly keep in their bedroom or on their desk.

“It’s not supposed to be used on skin,” he shrugs a little, twirling the tool between his fingers. “But today, I think we’ll make an exception,”

“What?”

“Head down, ass up,” he instructs sternly, pushing your head into his pillows.

“Touya, wait—” you start, the rest of your sentence muffled by the sheets. His hand gives one firm shove—a warning to stay down—and then he begins shuffling around on the bed.

Careful to keep your cheek pressed hard against the pillow, you turn your head just enough to speak.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Your voice is trembling, thick with tears, dense anxiety building in your chest.

“I’m going to burn my name into your pretty little ass,” he responds simply as he positions himself behind you, yanking your panties midway down your thighs and sitting back on his heels. “A nice, pretty, permanent mark so you, and everyone else, never forget who you fucking belong to,”

“No!” you gasp, beginning to lift your head only to have him force it back into the pillow with a snarl. “No, Tou—niichan, I-I’ll do anything, please—”

“No, no, no, baby,” he says over your senseless babbling, voice almost gentle, thumb caressing your silky skin. “Don’t squirm, now,” he chides. “If you squirm, my hand might slip, and I might burn other parts of your body. We don’t want that, do we? Be a good girl for niichan and sit still,”

And so you do. You should feel ashamed, pathetic, revolted that he’s able to manipulate you so easily, that he knows exactly how to turn you into putty to be molded and shaped as he pleases, even when he’s about to sear his name into your skin.

It burns unlike anything you’ve ever felt before as he carefully carves his name into the supple flesh, saying the letters out loud as he does so. It’s a unique, stinging-stabbing type of pure agony, one that sends sharp pain radiating up to your lower back and down your thigh.  

Fingers curl in his dark sheets as you sob into his bed—chest-wracking sobs that have your entire body trembling, chest-wracking sobs that you so desperately try to hold back and swallow, to stay still, to be good for your niichan. Touya tells you to be happy, be grateful, that the temperature of his iron goes up so high.

“Otherwise, I would’ve had to go over it several times in order to make it really stick,”

It’s over quickly, though, a mere fifteen minutes later and he’s cleaning it with rubbing alcohol and gently taping thick gauze over it and uses this opportunity to take your panties off entirely.

“Good girl,” he praises as he hoists you up, manhandling you to straddle his spread thighs, careful of your now very sensitive bottom. “You did so good for niichan,”

And you can’t stand the way your heart weakly flutters at his praise. You can’t stand the way you instinctually bury your head in his chest, tiny fists forming in the material of his t-shirt as you wail, can’t stand the way he is still the only one you want comforting you.

His cock is hard through his jeans, and you can feel it pressing into your core as he shifts a little under you. It’s humiliating, but you’re powerless to stop your hips from moving in subtle little circles, grinding your cunt against the rough denim. And he lets you do it for a little, too, tender fingers petting your hair as he soothes your sobs, taming them to little sniffles and hiccups.

“Niichan’s gonna fuck you now, okay?” he asks softly, murmuring against your scalp, voice almost sickly sweet.

It takes you a moment to respond, eventually nodding your head.

A smirk spreads across his lips and he instructs you to get up, tapping the side of your thigh.

You lift yourself, walking back on your knees and giving him enough room to free his aching cock from the confines of his jeans before his hands find your hips again, dragging you back.

“Baby,” he breathes as his fingers spread your folds, his eyes darkening in a manner much different than before. “Already wet for me?”

Cheeks burning with shame, you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, whimpering a little as he pushes a finger into you.

“Don’t tell me,” he gasps tauntingly, voice dripping with artificial surprise. “You didn’t like being branded, did you?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head quickly. No, it wasn’t the branding that did it—not really, anyway. It was the aftercare. It was Touya’s cold hands gently tending to your injured bottom, Touya pulling you into his lap as he praised you and dropped kisses to the crown of your head, Touya getting hard from the punishment, from permanently searing his name into your flesh.

You should be disgusted with yourself, with how eager you are, hips wiggling a little only a few moments later as you whine out softly, “Niichan, cock,”

“Impatient,” he huffs. “Don’t get bratty with me now, you were doing so well,”

A pout forms on your face, still hidden in his shoulder.

“Jus’ want it so bad,” you mumble against him, beginning to slur your words. “Please, Touya-nii?”

He hums to himself, makes you beg just a little bit more, reveling in the way your voice begins to get desperate, all high and needy as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers, whimpering and begging with pathetic little please, niichan?’s.

“Is this how you want it? Huh? Wanna ride niichan?”

Mewling a little, you nod, rolling your hips into his palm.

“Words, sweetheart,”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “W-Wanna ride you,”

Finally, he gives it to you, lets you sink down on his cock, watching the way you wince as it stretches you, expression contradicted by your soft moans.

He forces you to begin bouncing immediately, doesn’t allow you to set the pace—he never does—smirking at those little pained cries spilling from your throat, though whether they’re because his cock or the five letters freshly burned into your skin, he isn’t sure. Maybe both; probably both.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, tone condescending. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, the threat of tears stinging your eyes.

“Yeah? Yeah?” his voice mimics yours, pitched high and whiny. “I bet it fucking does,”

A hand travels down to grope your ass—specifically, the cheek with the brand—squeezing hard as fingers dig into your skin. You cry out, tears finally leaking from your eyes, chest hitching as you sob out, “Touya-nii,”

“Don’t ever do something like that again,” he says in your ear, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you ever go fuck another man because you’re mad at me, do you understand?”

Heat begins to coil tightly in your stomach at his smooth, dark voice. “Y-Yes,”

“Promise me,” he growls, grip tightening on your ass.

“I promise,” you’re weeping as he gives one more harsh squeeze, pain scorching through your backside, a loud yelp escaping your lips.

“Bet his cock didn’t feel as good as mine,” he sneers in your ear, panting a little. “Wasn’t as big as mine, didn’t fill you up the way mine does,”

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in time with his thrusts, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Probably could—” a low groan cuts him off as your pussy flutters around him. “Could never make you cum the way I do,”

A loud whine rips from your throat, your head nodding as he continues his relentless thrusts up into you, never once faltering. Adrenaline and endorphins rush through your veins, high off the heady mixture of pleasure and pain.

“N-Niichan,” you gasp, nails digging into his flesh through the material of his thin t-shirt. “Niichan,”

“Gonna cum? Hmm? Gonna make a mess all over niichan’s cock?” he’s asking breathlessly, slamming into you at a rapid pace and using his thighs for more leverage, hands gripping your hips.

“Uh-huh,”

“Do it, then,” he commands hoarsely. “Cum on your niichan’s cock,”

And you do, helplessly, incapable of disobeying a direct order, creaming so hard your vision blanks for a second, overwhelmed by the extreme, potent mix of pain and pleasure crashing over you.

“Who do you belong to?” Touya’s nearly keening now, hips jackhammering, making your body twitch and shudder with every sharp thrust into your sensitive pussy.

“You,”

“Tell me again,”

“I belong to you, niichan,”

And those five simple words—those five simple words have him cumming hard, hips stilling and cockhead pressed firmly against your cervix, filling your cute little cunt with his seed as broken curses fall from his lips.

You’re both panting, covered in a thin, sheen layer of sweat, your hair sticking to your face and little droplets of tears still glistening on your lash line. He all but collapses back against the bed, taking you with him, cock still buried inside of you.

“And I’m yours,” he whispers into your hair, hugging you tightly—too tightly—to his heaving chest. “I’m yours,”

Laying in his arms, in his bed, with his name burned into your ass, you wonder if you’re destined to play this game for the rest of your lives.

He’s yours.

Are you stuck with him now, forever?

He’s yours.

Will you every get married? Ever get the chance to date someone else?

He’s yours.

Do you even want to?

Laying in his arms, in his bed, with his name burned into your ass, knowing he’s yours, do you even want any of that?

No. With your head resting against his chest, rising and falling with his gentle breaths, slender fingers combing through your sweaty hair, you realize that this is all you want.

He’s yours, and you’re his, and that is enough.

[narraboths]

[read on Ao3]

Come over, Kara texts her at 5:41 pm, followed up by New Year’s Eve party :) when Lena doesn’t respond.

It makes her heart sink.

They are supposed to be over it. They’ve talked – fought, yelled, ugly-cried, circled each other like wounded animals for weeks and weeks, and now they are supposed to be healed . Stronger together. Kara gives her hugs and visits her office to bring her lunch and beams at Lena with her old, boundless affection again.

Lena can hardly bear it.

With every gentle word exchanged, every friendly touch and easy smile, Lena only feels the shame and doubt and bitter guilt that’s been gnawing at her multiply thousandfold. Kara’s sheer presence in her life is too great a gift, too undeserved, yet Lena yearns for it too, fiercely, endlessly, as starved for Kara’s love as she feels unworthy to receive it. It’s a pained, maddening struggle with no end in sight.

I’m busy, she texts back now, the playfulness that would’ve come naturally to her before being measured carefully so that the declination wouldn’t seem brusque: No rest for the wicked.

And you’re divine, the answer comes without even missing a beat, making Lena almost drop her phone, her heart rattling madly in her chest and her fingers shaky as she types her reply:

Trying to trick me with your wordsmithery?

Trying to get you to give yourself a break. Lena cannot help but smile: Kara’s ability for unintended, rampant flirting is only surpassed by her capacity for caring. And I really need a partner to break Alex and Kelly’s winning streak at charades. They’re getting annoying about it. Lena hesitates, rereading the words again and again, eyes getting stuck on I need a partner every time, until the three little dots pop up at the bottom of her screen once more: Pretty, pretty please?

It’s a mistake, Lena well knows. She should excuse herself and cut the conversation short, arrange for another, less loaded meeting like a brunch next weekend or a lunch when she’d next swing by CatCo to placate Kara, and leave it at that.

Can’t refuse such a cry for help, she types back instead, and the reply comes almost immediately:

My hero ❤️

Lena doesn’t realize she’s clutching her phone to her chest as she leaves her office until she sees her reflection on the elevator doors.

–

It takes ten minutes for Lena’s car to reach Kara’s building, then three to climb the stairs. It takes another ten minutes of nervous pacing at the end of the hallway, nails digging into her palm, for Lena to actually decide to walk to Kara’s door and dare to knock.

The door flies open and Kara tugs her into a tight hug before Lena could even blink. She lets herself sink into its comfort, lets herself enjoy the solid mass of Kara’s body pressing against her own for longer than it would be advisable before she finally disentangles herself.

“I’m so glad you came,” Kara breathes, smiling wide. Lena only nods, tongue-tied under the sudden, affectionate attention as Kara helps her out of her coat, then moves toward the kitchen immediately, hand wrapped around Lena’s own. “Can I get you anything? We haven’t popped the champagne yet but–”

“I’m fine,” Lena finally manages. She’s anything but. She does manage to wave hello to Kelly and Nia chatting at the other end of the kitchen, and nod to Alex and J’onn, engaged in deep conversation in the living room. “So,” she turns back to Kara, forcing a playful smile on her face and staunchly ignoring the tremor in her hands, the way her heart rattles in her chest. “Is it time for some game night ass-kicking?”

“Sure,” Kara nods, but her face is strangely distracted. She looks down at their intertwined fingers, her thumb gently stroking the back of Lena’s hand. “Could I show you something first, though?”

The something turns out to be the view from her bedroom window: the night sky towers above them with remarkable clarity, its inky blue spattered with the white gleam of the stars. 

“You wanted to show me…” Lena follows the arc of Kara’s outstretched hand, and narrows her eyes, confused. “The new moon?”

“It’s Rosh Chodesh too,” Kara smiles. “What a coincidence, right? The perfect night for new beginnings.”

“New beginnings,” Lena repeats mechanically, and Kara nods.

“At the start of this year, I didn’t know if I could ever see you as a friend again.” Lena casts down her eyes: there’s something so awfully tender in Kara’s face, her voice, that she can hardly bear hearing it, much less holding Kara’s gaze. She’s ready to hear the next words – that it’s been a failure since, that Kara doesn’t want her in her life after all, that she knows Lena’s not okay and doesn’t care to keep up the charade any longer. But those words never come. Instead, Kara only draws closer, her free hand reaching up to cup Lena’s face, an electric, world-rending touch. “And now I wouldn’t have wanted to spend this night without you here.”

The room spins, Lena’s heartbeat grows into a thunderous beat in her ears. She’s gasping, feeling like she’s burning up, stammering something unintelligible, but Kara’s still there, the touch of her hands mooring Lena’s entire world.

“I know it’s been hard to see eye to eye again,” she whispers. “For both of us. But I’ve learned that… If we just keep drowning in hurt, we can’t move forward. And I want to face this new year with you. Together.”

Lena risks raising her eyes again. It feels like a drunken, feverish dream to meet Kara’s gaze again and see it glisten with tears, and beneath it only gentle, unshakeable love.

“I want that too.” The words come out half-rasped, barely daring to be voiced first, then gaining strength as the gnawing feeling in Lena’s chest grows smaller. “Really, really much.”

When she feels Kara’s lips pressed against her temple, Lena dares to hope again.

(They are still holdings hands when the clock strikes twelve.)

[merakiclosed]

Bubblegum pink

》Pairing: Yoonji x fem!reader 

》Summary: Literally just smut with no plot, enjoy!! 

》Genre: Smut, female Yoongi, 18+, MINORS DNI. 

》Word count: 2.5k

》Notes/Warnings: lesbain smut, Dom!Yoonji, Sub!Reader, hickies, collar, talk of nipple play, bondage (hands tied), use of ‘kitten’, ‘doll’, ‘slut, oral & fingering (f.reader), praise, marking, scratching, teasing, reader cries, use of  degradation and dumbification, strap-on, subspace, orgasm denial, aftercare. 

 I’m still new to smut so please don’t be too mean :pp also has not been edited :]

Masterlist | All messages and requests are currently closed <3

All rights reserved © Merakiiverse. DO NOT repost, translate, or claim as your own. DO NOT READ/INTERACT IF YOU ARE A MINOR, IF FOUND TO BE UNDER 18, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED FROM MY TUMBLR. 

For @thebtswritersclub June prompt, Pride month! 

She can’t help but admire your submissive state, laid out all pretty just for her. Your hands tied above your head in black silk, clenching and unclenching as you pray, beg, for more. The power between you is uneven as you lay only in your panties whilst she wears her matching black set. Your bra is in a pile along with the rest of your clothes that were thrown haphazardly to the floor in Yoonji’s haste earlier. Chest and neck covered in bruises and hickies, your abused nipples were pulled and twisted, erect and glistening with her spit as she bit and sucked on them. 

The collar around your neck catches her attention, knowing that the both of you had picked out the collar together; the simple design of black leather attached to the metal heart at the front. She loved the idea of buying a collar for you, knowing that it symbolizes your relationship. She wanted everyone to know that you were hers, and of course, whilst she doesn’t have a collar, she is yours. 

A whine of embarrassment leaves your throat under her lust filled gaze, your legs rub -together helplessly, trying to relieve some of your need as you can feel the wet spot on your panties grow each second, “please..” you beg, “please t-touch me - fuck me.. Anything.” 

Your begging and glossy eyes make her coo, bending down to kiss your pouty lips sweetly, “you’re so cute, kitten.” the nickname making you mewl, reaching up to kiss her bubblegum pink lips again. 

Her hands grip at your body, kissing you; you have to admit you’re addicted. Her tongue swipes at your bottom lip and your brain goes cloudy as your tongues swirl together. You can feel the ghost of her hand slide down your stomach and slightly skim your panties, making you shudder. As she pulls away, you can’t help but whine in need, her eyes shining with mischief as she grabs your neck lightly, “what a whiny little slut I have here,” Yoonji chuckles darkly. 

Whimpering as she takes her hand away, she crawls down to lay in between your legs, her pale hands massaging your thighs. Teasingly, she moves closer and closer to where you want her to be the most, looking up at you with a smirk. You shiver as she gently strokes at your sensitive skin at the top of your inner thighs, her pointy nails digging into your skin to create scratch marks, the burning pain turning to pleasure as you breathe out her name. She eyes your sodden panties, a finger teasing you clit over the fabric as she draws shapeless patterns before a tongue licks a long stripe on your folds, your body jolting from the sudden feeling. 

Yoonji chuckles, one of her fingers lightly circling your clit before hooking it in the waistband, sliding your underwear down slowly, “so wet for me kitten.” 

Your head turns to the side in embarrassment, avoiding her gaze as her hands dig into your thighs to open your legs wide; your pussy out on display for her. Flicking your clit with her tongue, she closes her eyes and groans, “you taste so fucking amazing doll,” before going back to sucking at your nub. 

She gets lost in pleasing you, your tied hands gripping her short black hair, tugging softly making her hum into your pussy; moans falling from your lips from the vibrations. Her tongue runs over your folds, collecting your arousal before the warm muscle teases your entrance in circles before plunging into your leaking core. You breathe in sharply as she explores your heat, expertly hitting all of the right places, ravishing you as her tongue thrusts into you.  

You're tempted to close your legs but you can’t as her hands have a bruising grip on your thighs to keep them open, her strength overpowering your overwhelmed state as she pushes your legs over her shoulders. The new angle allows her tongue to go deeper, eating you out fiercely, as if she was starved. Bringing a closer, she runs finger along your slit, collecting your arousal as her tongue draws figures of 8 on your clit before her finger dips into your entrance, your pussy so wet and ready for her as it slips in easily. She is quick to thrust into your cunt at a fast pace, fingers going as deep as they can. But, it didn’t take long for you to want, to need more. 

“M-more” you moan, your hips rolling against her desperately. Yoonji stops, her head coming up to look at you with a piercing gaze, “manners little kitten or you won’t be able to cum at all tonight,” her voice hard and low, butterflies swarming your stomach. 

“More p-please,” you beg, tears forming in your eyes. 

Abruptly, she slides two fingers into you and you cry out from the sensation of your pussy being stretched a little bit more. She returns to her brutal pace, going deeper, curling her fingers in a ‘come here’ manner, hitting the spot that causes you to cry out. Clenching your pussy around her fingers, she hums, “close kitten?” your thighs shake, threatening to close around her face as she never lets up her fastening pace with her tongue and fingers. 

You can only nod, not trusting your voice, another moan following as you can hear the sound of your squelching core. Squirm on the bed, the heat in your stomach builds up quickly, before it's gone. Her fingers disappear from inside you, causing you to cry out. You were so close to release, your body so high from euphoria as you sob, “n-no - puh-please…” You’ve been so good for her all night, why did she stop?

Yoonji leans away from you, smirking at your whimpering state, licking and sucking at her arousal covered fingers. Her gaze never wavers from you, the sight makes you wiggle around on the bed, your eyes full of tears making her coo at you, “you’re so pretty when you cry. My pretty little doll.” 

She gets up, before bending down to scavenge through the ‘toy box’ the both of you hid under the bed. Your thighs squeeze together in excitement as she pulls the toy out. Smiling at you with faux innocence, she tilts her head as she dangles the purple strap-on in front of your face, “you’re gonna be a good little kitten and get this dildo nice and wet for me. Do you understand?” 

The dominance in her voice causes your pussy to throb, watching as she pulls the strap over her legs and onto her hips, tightening them until she is satisfied. Climbing back on to the bed, she puts a knee at each side of your head, the purple dildo taping against your mouth as she looks at you expectedly. Swallowing thickly, you don’t break eye contact with her as you lick a thick stripe onto the toy, a groan being pulled out of her from the sight. One of her hands grip at the dildo as the other tangles in your hair. You slip the tip into your mouth, sucking at the plastic cock, her hand pushing you up onto the toy until it hits the back of your throat, moaning when you gag. You slurp at her cock, your neck bulging as she fucks her cock into your mouth, “fuck you’re so pretty chocking around my cock.” 

Saliva drips down your chin, creating a path down your neck and to your boobs. Tears slide down your face as you swallow around her cock, the tip hitting the back of your throat again. Yoonji bites at her cherry-like lips as she hears you choke, before pulling it from your mouth slowly. A string of saliva connecting you to the toy. She gets up once again, stroking your thigh gently, contrasting with the dominant look in her eye, “turn around kitten.” 

Scrambling, you turn so you’re hands and knees, looking forward at the headboard. You can feel her move behind you, the bed dipping as she kneels behind you, the cool tip of the strap-on resting at the bottom of your back. Her hands rub up and down your back, pushing you down so you’re on your elbows, the curve of your back making her groan, “you look so good like this, so pretty.” 

Sliding the dildo up and down your folds, the tip teases your entrance. “You want me, kitten? Want my cock?” The smirk is evident in her voice. You nod, squealing as a sharp pain shoots through you from her slapping your ass, “I said, do you want my cock?” 

“Y-yes, yes I want your c-cock, plea-” you cry out as she enters you, her cock stretching your walls open making you gasp, “f-fuck” 

Slapping your ass again she can’t help but whisper, “good girl,” watching as the dildo sinks into your pussy inch by inch, moaning as your hips move back; giving her the signal for her to move. Your tied hands grip at the sheets as she rocks into you, getting deeper each thrust. But you want more. Rolling your hips back into her, she scoffs, “so desperate, letting me fuck your little pussy, pretty girl” 

“P-please Yoonji” you beg, pushing yourself back onto her cock. Her hands grip at your waist, stopping you from moving as she bends down over you to whisper darkly in your ear, “stay still kitten.” Goosebumps arise on your skin, arousal dripping down your thighs as you gush around her from her dark tone. 

She quickens her pace, fucking into you roughly as her hands have a deathening grip on your waist. Skin slaps on skin, your moans filling the room as your pussy pulses around the dildo, “You're so pretty, dripping around my cock” 

Mouth agape, you release a high-pitched keen as she hits your spongy spot inside of you. Closing your eyes, you can feel drool start to pool on the pillow around your mouth as she fucks you dumb. Your arms giving in, your back arching more drawing a moan out of your girlfriend, “right there doll?” 

You whine at the pet name, her voice smooth but slightly breathless watching herself fuck into you, arousal pooling inside her underwear from pleasing you so well. Your core squelches around the toy, cum falling from your pussy and dripping onto the sheets. With a strong roll of her hips, your arms give up. Her hands on your waist give her leverage to thrust harder into. One hand sneaks up to tug at your collar, a strangled moan making its way out of your lips. 

Your moans are music to her ears, “f-faster, puh-please.” 

And whilst Yoonji wasn’t getting pleasured, she loved pleasing you, “yeah? You want me to go faster?”

Even though you knew it was a rhetorical question, you can’t help but nod your head as you sob. Both of your bodies are hot in the humid room as the headboard starts to rock, so close to hitting the wall as she drills into you. Your breathless; moaning into the pillow before she tugs the collar, her hand travelling down to pull and twist at your already abused nipples, her nails scratch lightly down your stomach leaving pretty marks onto your skin, her fingers dangerously close to your clit. 

She tugs at the collar, “look at you drooling, pretty kitten. Do you like it when I fuck you until you’re my dumb little doll?” 

You try to turn your head, tears stream down your face from the pleasure, your mind going fuzzy. Before you know it, she’s rubbing circles on your clit, pinching it every so often, “Y-yoonji” you whine weakly. 

Your pussy soaks the dildo with your arousal, your mind cloudy as you whimper and whine into the pillow. Your cute little noises make Yoonji want to ravish you until you’re ruined. “You close kitten?” she breathes out, her thrusting getting even faster as she ploughs into you, her fingers pinching and rubbing your clit furiously.  

Her arms keep you up as your whole body almost gives in, wanting to collapse onto the bed as it shakes. Once again you can feel the coil in your stomach twisting, heat rising in your body as you can feel yourself getting closer to release, your cunt gushing around the dildo as she slams into you. Yoonji can’t take her eyes away from the sight, almost mesmerised.

Your moans get more breathless, making her chuckle, “cum for me, be a good girl kitten and cum.” 

With her words, your head tilts back, mouth agape as you whine in a high-pitched squeal. You see white, as the coil in your stomach unwinds. Your walls squeeze the dildo tightly, as your legs tremble from how hard you cum. It's hard to control your breathing as you clench around the toy, your cum gushing around it and down your thighs. Yoonji still fucks into you from behind, slower than before to draw out your orgasm, her fingers rubbing circles on your clit coming to stop, “good girl, such a good kitten for me.” 

Gently, she takes the glistening dildo out of you, a whine leaving your lips from the feeling, your body falling to the bed from exhaustion. Putting the strap-on on the bed, Yoonji is quick to untie your hands, gently rubbing your wrists and kissing them. Smiling at you, she can tell you’re in subspace as your blurry eyes look at her, “I love you princess” 

You giggle, reaching for her which is obeys, pulling you into her as she lays on the bed. Neither of you mind the sweat that coats your skin as Yoonji holds you close to her. You feel protected, your mind still fuzzy as you listen to her heartbeat. 

She smiles, kissing you head gently before wrapping the both of you up in the duvet. She knew that when you woke up she would have to clean the sheets and wash you up, but that can wait for later. 

“You were so good for me princess, are you tired now?” she whispers, her hand rubbing your skin in soothing circles as your breathing starts to even out. You nod, pressing a kiss to her chest, “‘mhmm,” 

Shuffling, you try to get closer, “love you Yoonji,” you speak in a tired voice before you fall asleep. Yoonji can’t wipe the smile off her face, squeezing you to her before closing her eyes. As long as you are alright, and as long as you are in her arms that’s all that matters. 

[yourfavwriter]

Hate. - Na Jaemin Smut

Note: sorry this is so bad and short i kinda rushed it i really need to start posting more lmao sorry again

Warning: Over-stimulation, unprotected sex, rough/hate sex, dirty talk, choking, i think that's it

Jaemin was your worst enemy yet here you were, lying in his bed half naked. He had his t-shirt off and was hovering above you, making you squirm just by kissing your neck alone. He slowly slid his hands down and into your panties, rubbing your clit in small circles making you bite your lip and turn your head to the side.

"I thought you hated me" He asked arching one eyebrow up at you.

"Who says I don't?"

"The wetness in between your legs say you don't" He replied smirking at you.

"I would get this wet if it were anyone else don't get your hopes up."

"Whatever you say babe" He continued rubbing your clit painfully slow making you grow more impatient by the second.

"Fuck Jaemin if you keep going this slow i swear to God I'll-"

"You'll what? Take control? Flip me over? Fuck yourself on my cock?" He tilted his head to the side waiting for your answer.

"I will, don't test me." He chuckled before retrieving his hands from inside your panties and pulling them off, throwing them somewhere in the room. He unclipped your bra and threw that somewhere else. He got off of you and took of each piece of his clothing, painfully slow, teasing you and giving you a show. You rolled your eyes and backed up resting your head on the pillows.

Finally after what felt like hours he got on top of you and bound your lips together in a steamy kiss, your tongues slipping against each other's lips and mouths. Without you noticing he slowly slid his cock inside of you causing you to break away from the kiss and whisper a low "fuck" in his ear. He let you adjust for a bit and as soon as you gave him the sign that it was okay for him to move, he pounded into you relentlessly. Although his thrusts weren't really fast he put all of his force and power in each thrust. You moaned his name more times than you could count while tears welled up in the corners of your eyes.

"You like it when I fuck you hard like this?" He asked. The pleasure was building up quickly and you were desperately looking for the words to respond with.

"Answer me."

"Fuck yes Jaemin, i love it so much" you said throwing your head back and running your nails down his biceps.

"Of course you do you dirty fucking slut. Tell me, who fucks you this good?"

"Only you can fuck me this good Jaemin" you felt yourself reaching your climax sooner than you thought, tightening around him making him release a low moan.

"J-jae I'm cumming"

"Already? I just started" he said looking down on you as if you were his prey. He sighed and clicked his tongue.

"Alright fine you can cum. Now come on baby, cum all over my cock. Let go for me" He smirked as he urged you to cum resulting in one of the most intense orgasms you have ever had. However as you were trying to calm down from the orgasm Jaemin was still thrusting into you, just as powerful as ever. He sneaked his hand down to your core to rub your clit in circles.

"Fuck Jae it's too much!" you said desperately trying to move away from him knowing damn well that when he had you caged in his arms like this, you couldn't move a finger.

"Oh yeah? My cock is too much for you baby?"

"Mmhm" you barely had enough strength left into you to properly respond.

"Well fucking take it" he said, moving his hand from your clit to your neck choking you. You let out strained moans and sobs, tears now rushing down your face from the unbearable amount of pleasure.

"Fuck baby you look so pretty like this I'm gonna cum"

"M-me too" you said biting your lip and rolling your eyes to the back of your head.

"Cum with me baby, come on, you can do it" your legs shook around Jaemin until your finally came with him releasing strings of hot white cum inside of you. He got off of you and layed down beside you, pulling you on top of him and stroking your hair.

"You know i still hate you right" your voice raspy from how much you were moaning and sobbing.

"Whatever floats your boat baby" he said smirking. the two of you stayed in that position for a few minutes before Jaemin got up to clean you off, making sure to give you comfy clothes and to turn on your favorite tv show while cuddling you to make up for how rough he was.

"Uh y/n?"

"Yes" you responded eyes half shut due to how tired you are.

"You're on birth control right?"