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#and they trust them BOTH to pull it off
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revenantghost · 5 months
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I cannot believe Orange is baiting us with longevity when we've seen how this all ends in every universe. I want to have hope!!! But don't tempt me!!!!!!
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lazinesswrites · 9 months
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I know I already posted a bunch of WIP stuff today, BUT. It's still Sunday (barely) so here's six sentences from yet another WIP that I started... yesterday. The file name for this one is The Power of Hugs.
“You know we don’t blame you, right?” Wrecker asks gently, because he knows he needed to hear that after—Bracca. Still doesn’t always believe it, or understand it, but it’s true for him about Crosshair, so. Crosshair mutters something into his shoulder, too low for Wrecker to really hear it, even though Crosshair is on his good side. It sounds a little like “I tried to kill you.” Wrecker keeps talking. Crosshair’s arms tighten, making Wrecker’s armor dig into his back uncomfortably.
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also i think a nice sort of trick to keeping missy feel in character even when you write stuff where you make her vulnerable and like admit to that vulnerability is to just mind her sadism. she enjoys seeing people hurt. probably especially people she loves. just because she loves you doesnt mean shes gonna try to make you comfortable. probably the opposite.
and dont just let her hurt people in retaliation/to equalise a power imbalance. because then you sort of keep her playing defence? but if you just let her hurt people shes hanging out with in little ways when theres absolutely no need to. just for her own enjoyment. i think that really helps to reset her to sort of baseline missy after youve vivisected her.
#this isnt like a writing tip bc i dont really knwo what im doing generally writing wise#this is just something i noticed yesterday that i'd been doing and i think it works well#i think this is why my vault fic 1.0 feels off#bc there shes either being vivisected or hurting in retaliation#but she never gets back to just like reset#anyway#i think it's probably canon that shes a sadist i could probably find something somewhere to back that up right?#im going more on vibes like the vibe is right#i also think shes meaner in the big finish audios#just for the sake of it#also as an identity performance but the just for the sake of it part is kinda crucial i think#if you ask me why i couldnt give you a good answer but still i think it is#also i just really enjoy writing missy be needlessly cruel to both 13 and yaz and how they respond to it#it's fun to push and pull at them and see how much they will take#and also the contrast with the things she does actually sorta honour#like theres a trust between the doctor and the master where they know very well which areas are like fair game to fight with i think#and theres also a difference in what theyre allowed to use against each other when theyre alone vs with an audience#they will keep each other's image intact when they fight i think#also i think the master can very well care for you and missy also definitely does#it's just that that care often comes with violence#like she'll console you with one hand whilehurting you with the other#or she'll hurt you badly just to take care of you afterwards#violent tenderness i think is really the foundation of this fic#none of this is right#but they cant get what they need in the right way#so they will get it in the very wrong way. and it's wrong. but it still feels somewhat satisfying#thasmissy#missy
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tofixtheshadows · 1 month
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Sorry but Kabru is so fascinating to me as a character, in a pure mechanical sense, because of what Ryoko Kui does with him. Everything about him is a red herring. He's deliberately introduced as some kind of rival for Laios, a party leader who is hopeless against monsters but absolutely brilliant with people both in and out of combat, and who has good reason to oppose him.
By the end of chapter 31, you might even think Kabru's going to end up as some sort of anti-villain, an antagonist with the best of intentions who nevertheless tries to foil our hero's plans. He wants to defeat the Mad Mage himself, he suspects Laios of being too irresponsible to be trusted with control of the dungeon, and his crew even thinks that Laios's party stole from them (and they're kind of right!). All signs point towards an inevitable showdown.
And then ... none of that happens.
Confrontation over the stolen treasure? Kabru is literally too smart to fall for the classic miscommunication trope and correctly decides it's not worth making a big deal of.
Kabru's deadly PVP skills? Aside from trying to take down Falin, he never fights another human again.
Wanting to be the one who defeats the dungeon? Turns out he was only doing that because he didn't think any other adventurer would have people's best interests at heart, and he's more than willing to play a support role in the whole affair.
Thinking Laios is up to no good? He really did just want to get to know the guy more. He has his misgivings, but ultimately ends up trusting Laios with his life.
Is Kabru going to get some sort of comeuppance for hating monsters and not appreciating their ecosystem? Well no, he has good reasons for hating monsters. He ends up wanting to learn about them through Laios's eyes, but he's never forced into any "Wow, guess I was wrong about them!" revelation.
Hell, even his implied ladykiller ways, which might lead you to think he'll end up being the stock "chivalrous lech" type of character, don't really manifest. He has a lot of opportunities to act flirtatiously around women, but doesn't. He's just a guy whose natural charisma makes him into human catnip.
And that's all hysterical to me, to pull it off. It's a fascinating way to tell a story. To introduce a character explicitly as a rival, potentially even a villain, and instead make them a deuteragonist. It's like a magician making a coin disappear, then slowing down their trick to show you the misdirection. "Did you see what I did there?" they ask with a wink. "The coin was in my other hand the entire time."
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torubeth · 2 months
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degradation taken too far (mature content 18+)
context/warnings : it’s smut, so kids shoo! hell of a lot of degradation. they’re so mean i hate them. (swearing, words used : slut and slutty) angst to i have no idea what. pls do lmk if i missed any tws. and as always, its not proofread :p gojo ver.
ryomen sukuna ‘is that all you can do? all your yapping earlier about ridin’ me was just talks? answer me’ his sudden shift in demeanour has you feeling really small. sure he is a rude ass prick but not to you. never to you.
‘no- i can take it. i really can ryo’ tears sting at your eyes as you struggle to take in his full length. his hands giving your waist a small squeeze.
‘yeah and that’s all you’ve been saying for the past goddamn fifteen minutes. either you take it like a good girl or i’ll just have to find someone who will. trust me, i can’ he eyes held no remorse of the words he just spewed and that’s when you break.
correction, you shatter.
somewhere in the back of your head you knew he’ll never leave you but him wording it out makes it seem like it’s bound to happen.
and so tears stroll down your cheeks, your hands and legs giving out on you, your body going limp against his and you whisper the same thing over and over again.
‘don’t leave me ryo. i’m sorry. didn’t mean to upset you. i’m so sorry. don’t leave’
quickly his arms wrap around your body protectively, your face between his shoulder blade and neck, wetting the area with fresh batch of tears.
‘i could never leave you. you’re-’ you’re it for me. ‘you’re always the one that keeps me sane. there’s no way i’ll ever leave you. i’m sorry baby, forgive me. i didn’t mean a word of what i said’ he says.
when he didn’t get a response from you ‘look at me’ he whispers. slowly you leave the comfort of his neck and meet his eyes.
‘i didn’t mean it. you could leave me on deathbed and i still wouldn’t mean it’
‘i can’t leave you ryo. i love you way too much’ you sniffle, new tears threatening to spill so you go back to huddle against his neck.
god. he knows you mean it. and that’s what makes him feel like a dickhead.
‘me too, i- i lo-’ he struggles, just as your palm reaches up to cover his mouth.
‘i know ryo, i know’ you whisper, placing your forehead against his, both of you basking in the quietness of the surrounding.
geto suguru ‘fuckin-! ah shit! some insane grip you have on me baby. can’t move if you clench and lock me up like that’ he smirks against your neck.
‘and a bit quiet today ain’t ya? you sure had a lot to say to satoru earlier heh’ he remarks.
‘we were just catching up suguru, nothing-! nothing more’ you whine.
‘catching up you say? does catching up require smiles and touches? do they angel baby?’ he raises his eyebrows.
‘no..’ you avert your eyes away from his.
‘that’s what i thought. so for that, now you pay’ he pulls out suddenly, and pushes all the way back in making you yelp out loud.
‘sugu! ah fuck, i don’t think i can go another round baby. s’too much!’ the pressure was starting to get to you and you were starting to lose stability.
‘hah, i know you can baby, this slutty pussy’s all you’re good for anyway. fuck, doesn’t matter whose it is, as long as you’re filled. am i right?’ his words pierced straight through your heart.
since when did he-?
out of reflex, your hands reach out to touch his face to make sure that this was a dream nightmare. otherwise there’s no way he-
‘don’t touch me with those filthy hands’ he spits but makes no effort to push your hand off.
‘do you really think that’s all i’m good for?’ your voice is soft, filled with pain, and suddenly it’s like he’s broken out of his trance.
what the fuck am i doing, he thought.
slowly he pulls out, all whilst holding your hand against his cheek.
‘absolutely not. no. fuck, did not mean it angel. i promise. i- i don’t know what came over me-! didn’t mean it. please i’m sorry. next time if i ever lose my shit with you, i want you to take the nearest sharp object and plunge it into my chest’ he heaves out a guttural sigh.
‘you were really mean you know..’ you wipe your eyes.
‘i know baby, fuck. i didn’t mean it. i did not mean it. i’ll never do it again princess, ever’ he repeats.
his face lands on your chest, thanking all the gods and the stars out there for giving him another chance.
he’ll never screw up again and that’s a promise.
nanami kento ‘you really couldn’t wait for a few hours? just had to go and think with your cunt, right? have you no- ugh! no shame?’ his thrusts were sloppy as his hands were placed around your hips.
‘kento- slow down baby, i- i don’t think i can last’ you whine, hands clutching at the sheets.
‘no. you asked for this you little slut. so shut. the. fuck. up. and take it!’ each syllable was accompanied by a harsh thrust.
the usually composed, sweet and calm nanami was nowhere to be found. he’s never once called you a ‘slut’ and what caused this? you rubbing him through his pants and riling him up at his office dinner earlier tonight.
he warned you off multiple times but did you listen? no.
‘why are you so quiet now? i thought this is what you wanted’ his voice comes out raspy and cold.
a quiet but audible whimper escaped your lips, making him halt his actions.
slowly he pulled out, gently laying you on your back as your body shook with each sob.
‘sweetheart…? why are you…’
you look up at him, eyes puffy and swolllen ‘i’m sorry kento, it’s just that, you’re never home these days and i missed you so much’ a cry that’s sure to crack his heart leaves your lips.
‘i just wanted you all to myself for tonight but i didn’t mean to be a bother-’
his warm body hovers over yours, ‘you’re never a bother baby. always know that. you will always be at the top of every and any list i make. there’s nothing more i want than coming home to you everyday after work. and i didn’t mean to lash out at you. you didn’t deserve that, i’m sorry’ he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.
‘you will always have me sweetheart, never forget that. now let me make it up to you yeah?’
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radiance1 · 2 months
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Danny wears sunglasses 24/7.
So much so that slowly it's been ingrained into everyone's minds that he's never taken them off. Like, they can't even remember a time where he hasn't worn sunglasses.
It's just like, his thing.
Why does he wear them? Well, because Danny's previous blue eyes changed to a startling, glowing green that he knows the GIW would eat up and use as a reason to force him into their custody.
Solution?
Sunglasses.
His parents? Oh yea they went all in when he they found out why he was wearing them (Reveal gone right au babyy). They made them extremely durable; they can film audio, take pictures, take videos, see through walls and even track down ecto-signatures for whenever he's tracking down a ghost in human form, see through walls and self-cleaning.
(The ectoplasm tracking system is for when they aren't close enough to set off his ghost sense.)
He honestly believes his parents watched a spy movie before they built him these, but it's not like he's going to complain about it. The only time he isn't wearing them is when he goes ghost, you know as a way to not link him to Fenton or whatever.
So, Danny meets John Constantine while the both of them were on the hunt for a ghost who was causing problems in the area. Danny manages to find them first, the ghost in question being an animal who was terrorizing a place because it didn't understand the fact it was dead yet and wanted to protect it's children.
John Constantine comes while Danny is pacifying it. He watches as Danny calms it down enough to get to the babies and sends it to the Ghost Zone after promising it to get them somewhere safe.
John Constantine also saw his eyes, because he pulled his sunglasses off to show them to the ghost as a silent sign to trust him. John Constantine of course asked what he was going to do with the babies, and Danny just sent them over to Sam.
After that he decided to keep an eye on Danny because of his eyes. Which were the eyes of a ghost, and he was genuinely thinking Danny was possessed before that went out the window. So he thinks Danny is a ghost pretending to be human and wasn't able to hide his eyes so he wore sunglasses.
Danny neither confirm nor deny that.
So Danny just kinda followed him around until Constatine eventually made him into a contact whenever he was dealing with ghosts that he could peacefully deal with instead of just forcefully banishing them to the Infinite Realms.
This, eventually, comes to light when Constantine goes "I know a guy." In front of the whole Justice League, bonus points if they somehow come to the conclusion that Danny is Constantine's secret child, sidekick or both.
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arolesbianism · 9 months
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If nothing else Im just begging dst to not do the easy but lame idea of adding the fleece of the lamb and making it increase follower time. I get it. It makes sense. It's simple to implement. But it's also boring and useless. In begging yall add a fleece that does smth cool
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tonycries · 2 months
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Little Heaven
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Synopsis. He’s just your friend-with-benefits, right? So why - in the still haze of the soft sheets and you, fúcking you so sensual and tenderly - does he feel like he’s found his own personal heaven?
Pairing. Multiple x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, kinda fluffy, he’s both pússydrunk and in love, slow to rough, marking, mentions of marriage and kids, morning, swearing.
Word count. 1.3k
A/N. Probably the fluffiest smút I’ve ever written.
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You were just his friend-with-benefits, right? No strings attached, right? 
So why was he here? Sinking into your plush mattress, quiet morning sun just barely peeking in through the curtains as he wraps his arms around your naked figure. 
God, he really shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be laying you on your side, drinking in your soft little, “G’mornin’.” Both of your movements languid and still burning with soreness. Your hips pushing back desperately into his as he positions himself so that his leaking tip was just kissing your swollen folds. 
He shouldn’t be whispering soft kisses into the marks that littered your skin. Licking one, long stripe up the sinful trail of hickies down your neck. All sensual touches where it was bruising grips last night. 
That was rule #1, right? No marks. 
Or was it #4… 
Ah, right now he couldn’t give less of a fuck. Not when his greedy eyes wander the expanse of your face, fingers trailing along the features he’s mapped a thousand times over. Tracing delicate patterns across your skin, snaking down, down, down to leisurely lift your leg a little higher. 
Bare chest warm against your back, his voice is low and gravelly in your ear as he whispers, “I had a dream y’know.” 
Mind still thinly veiled with sleep, you lean into his warm touch, “Mhm?” 
Your breath hitches at the way he drags his swollen head teasingly across your slit, pooling your slick on his achingly hard tip. Smearing your juices with his thumb as he pumps himself lazily. It’s so torturously good. You almost miss the way he buries his face into the crook of your neck, murmuring a soft “Had a dream of us.”
Oh? 
Before you can overthink his words, he’s nudging in gently. So agonizingly gentle. And you can do nothing more than let out barely-audible whispers of his name as he bullies his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. 
You feel so full. So drunk off of the delicious burn of your pussy and him. 
And it seems he was drunk on you just as much, because as soon as his hips are flush against yours, the words escape him. So quiet and groggy with sleep, that you almost don’t catch them.
“Had a dream that I made you my beautiful bride.”
Oh. 
That was new. His words hung heavy in the heady air. 
Shivers run down your spine - all the way to where he was buried in your dripping cunt. Your voice is slightly shaky as you let out a humorless laugh, “Oh yeah? Must’ve been a nightmare then.”
Soft lips press against your forehead, breathing in your scent. Absolutely searing as he mutters out a muffled, “No, was the best dream I ever had.”
And then, with the audacity of someone who didn’t just send your mind reeling, he pulls his hips back unhurriedly. Immediately fucking into you at a slow, sensual pace. Tip kissing your cervix as he rolls his hips languidly into yours, making sure you feel every bump and graze against your tight walls.
You don’t know what’s more maddening - his agonizing pace or the words that tumble out of his lips. “Y’looked so beautiful in white. So pretty walking down the aisle to me.” 
His lips brush against yours, hands dancing across every inch of you he could reach. Gently caressing the skin like it’s something divine, soothing over the marks from last night as if an apology. “Don’ think I’d want to see anyone else there.”
You glance back at him - only to find his eyes already on you. A jolt of electricity runs across your skin at the pure warmth in them. And you realize that, no, this wasn’t a joke. 
Not trusting yourself to speak, you simply grind your hips down to meet his, abs rubbing against your ass. Letting out a broken whimper of what sounds like his name as he moves down a hand to press rough, little circles over and over your throbbing clit. 
“Saw a little something else too.” he hums, a sly smile curling his lips as his other hand dances across your body to press down on your stomach. Hard. “Saw that I had some competition - two actually. Funny, right?”
“Hah- h-hilarious.” you manage to choke out as his thumb speeds up on your clit, hips moving a bit more purposefully. A bit more like you were used to. Rock-hard cock plunging into your quivering cunt in deliberate, sloppy thrusts that have you white-knuckling the sheets. 
“Though…” he trails off dangerously, pulling back all the way until his furiously hard tip was just kissing your waiting hole. “I wouldn’t really mind.”
And with that he’s sheathing his throbbing erection in your wet pussy completely. A gasp of delight leaves him at the way you take him so readily. Walls sucking him up so sinfully - perfect. You were always so perfect for him. 
“Dreamt we had a lil’ house with a big garden.” God, he can feel his cock harden so painfully at the fucked-out little ah! ah! ah! leaving your pretty lips each time his hip smack into yours. It’s music to his ears, such a shame he just can’t shut the fuck up right now. “And then you dressed the kids up while I made breakfast.”
“Then you made us do taxes and I didn’t even fucking mind.” His voice is strained now, words slurring together as he rams his cock deeper and deeper, glistening with your slick in the soft morning glow. 
“And finally at night, I say we should make a third one.” 
He looks at you, a sly grin stretching his lips, eyes half-lidded and a dangerous twinkle in them that has you wondering whether everything he said before was merely a ruse to fuck you silly. And it probably shows on your face - because he grins lowly in your ear, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we have till our wedding night f’me to fuck you slow.”
And oh he almost feels guilty. But he can’t bring himself to slow down at the way your swollen lips drop into such a pretty oh! at his words. Mewling at the sting of his heavy balls as they smack your ass. Walls clamping down desperately on his dick, milking him for every drop of pleasure. Each thrust into your warm core has his eyes rolling to the back of his head, brows furrowing in ecstasy as he focuses on making you lose your mind. 
He shifts his angle slightly, grinding expertly against your g-spot just right, and you throw your head back, releasing a low moan of his name.
“Shit. Yeah, say m’name, sweetheart. Jus’ like that.” he moans breathlessly. 
His name - soon to be yours.
Maybe.
You turn your head to face him, eyes fiery as you capture his in an equally scorching kiss. Cock slamming into your poor, abused cunt with an intensity that matches that of your lips.
Probably. 
Biting down on his lower lips, soft yet insistent. Humming deliriously against his mouth - and in the heat of it all, he feels you smile against his lips. Ever-so-slightly. 
Definitely. 
And then you’re cumming. White-hot pleasure behind your eyes, walls clamping down so deliciously around his twitching cock. It sends him over the edge as well - whispering your name as if a prayer, voice hoarse with emotions neither of you could name at this very moment. 
Hot ropes of his thick cum paint your trembling cunt white, milking the soul out of him as you both ride out your climaxes together. A creamy ring forming around his base as some truly animalistic part of himself fucks his seed into you - a promise, he likes to think.
“I’m serious about the dream.”
Almost as gentle as that one. 
As the haze settles, his thrusts slowing down to just shallow grinds, a fragile silence envelopes the room as neither of you speak. Because maybe no other words were needed. 
And right now, morning sunlight harsh on his skin, strong arms pulling you warm body flush against his, no one but you two in this quiet world - he doesn’t think he’d like to be anywhere else.
All is well in your little heaven.
- GOJO, GETO, Choso, SUNA, ATSUMU, Tsukishima, Kuroo, EREN
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A/N. Bro it took longer to think of what to write than to write this. 
Plagiarism not authorized.
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tojiphile · 9 months
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thinking about big boys who make it fit. you try to protest, fidget and squirm out of his calloused hands but he grips your waist firmly, pulling you back towards him.
“my darling girl,” he coos, “don’t you trust me?” he brushes a stray hair out of your face, wiping the tears streamed down furiously, your eyes squeezed shut. he laughs and presses a large hand to your stomach, “you’ll be a good girl for daddy, won’t you?”
through sobs, you find the strength to nod as he aligns himself at your entrance. he uses his thick fingers to spread your soaking cunt, the other hand guiding himself in slowly. “that’s it baby, you got this.” his fat cock inches his way in, and you feel the stretch, clenching down on him, shaking your head as if in a trance. he shushes you, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. “relax, it’ll hurt less.”
you heed his words and release the tension in your stomach. he audibly sighs as he continues pushing his way into you, causing you to whimper until the tip of his dick has pressed up against your cervix. satisfied, he traces the outline his cock is leaving in your tummy, giving it a squeeze as you barely get out the words, “so- full!” he laughs and grips your waist, pulling you off his cock and making you gasp at the sudden movement. before you have time to protest, he’s slamming himself into you again, the lewd sound of his balls slapping against your ass and both your groans fill the room. your cries of pain seem to only spur him on as he continues thrusting into you harshly.
“look at me,” he pants, “look at me while i fuck you silly.” you open your eyes only to meet his, then quickly shutting them in embarrassment. he laughs, “look at my sweet, darling girl, being fucked like the whore she is.” you whine in response but release a gasp when his fingers find your swollen clit, rubbing in quick circles and forcing your stomach to clench up. “don’t cum yet, my darling, hold it there, wait for me.”
you try your best to not cum, squirming from both the pain of him bottoming out and the pleasure from him toying with your sensitive bud. “i’m close baby, just say my name. say my name.” he can’t tell if you’re obedient, or just too fucked out to do anything but obey but when you cry out “daddy!” it’s all over for him.
“now.” he presses the bulge in your stomach down and you can feel the orgasmic joy washing over you like blinding lights, your body shaking, absolutely overwhelmed by him. he fucks you like a man in heat, bottomming out as he reaches his peak, gripping you hard. you can feel the warmth of his cum spreading in your cunt as he collapses on you, kissing your cheek.
TOJI FUSHIGURO, gojo satoru, geto suguru, TODO AOI, bokuto kotaru, TERUSHIMA YUJI, kaeya, ARATAKI ITTO, childe
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oceanxveiined · 11 months
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She isn’t usually one for cuddles, but when she does indulge for whatever reason ( usually amid the group she’s stuck with ), either she actively bundles the other person up in blankets and leans on them with the fabric acting as a barrier, or she would push into and damn near burrow right into the other’s side for Maximum Closeness
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cursingtoji · 10 months
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thinking about the first time toji gets to fuck you in your bedroom surrounded by stuffed animals. he knew you were a girly girl and he absolutely adored that about you, your always glossy lips, pink outfit and short skirts were what made him approach you at first. i’m
being older and making more money than you, toji had a better apartment, a spacious and nice located flat, so the first few encounters were always there until things started to get serious and he asked to go to your place tonight.
toji was far from surprised when you open the door and he was welcomed to a colourful living room and a sweet vanilla smell, he noticed a couple teddy bears by the couch and a few action figures next to the tv, but as soon as you started to make out on the couch you got up and took him by the hand to your bedroom.
“wow” he let it scape when he saw all your plushies, the big ones were in the floor, a bunch on the shelves and a few more in the nightstand, “sweetheart are you sure this is your room and not a 6 year old’s?” he teased and chuckled when you slapped his chest.
“i like them okay? most of it is from those claws machines so it’s not like i spent crazy money on it…”
“oh yeah? and you got all of those in the first try?” he poked your waist as you laid down in your bed.
“well…” no you didn’t “never mind, kiss me please” you pulled him by his shirt and he placed his knee on the bed before hovering you.
“i’m not gonna support this addiction of yours you know” he reached back and pulled his shirt off.
“shut up smoker” you giggled and proceeded to take your clothes off as well.
nights with toji usually escalated very quickly but that night he seemed more distracted and a bit uneasy. when he finally had you on your hands and knees his pace was not as fast as normal, in fact he seemed to be shifting a lot.
“toji? you okay?” you asked looking over your shoulder.
“we’re switching.”
“wha—“ before you could process he had already laid on his back and manhandled you onto his lap, “toji~” you whined.
“be a good girl and ride me” he slapped your ass as he helped you sit on his dick, and how could you deny when he bosses you around like that, “that way i don’t have to see those…” he murmured and slapped away some teddy bears in your nightstand. you stopped your movements and started to laugh.
“wait is that the reason?” you chuckled but one hard trust he gave you made you lose your balance and fall on his chest.
“there must be like a thousand eyes in this bedroom” he said looking around and massaging your waist to relieve his own tension.
“oh come on old man” you teased biting his lobe, “those thousand eyes watch me touch myself every time i think about you and you’re not around” that seemed to be enough to bring the big man back to his usual self. toji placed both his feet on the mattress and proceeded to fuck into you as you got up from chest to find a better position holding onto his flexed knees.
“and who gave you the right to touch my pussy huh?”
suddenly the stuffed animals were not a problem anymore.
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melzula · 3 months
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Can you please write jealous Zuko? It can be however you like😊
a/n: i love jealous zuko! however this ended up being more angsty than i intended😭 hope you enjoy!
summary: a party at the palace leads to a deep revelation for zuko
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He was miserable.
The palace didn’t throw parties very often these days, but the recent conquering of another Earth colony was deemed a call for celebration, and so all of the noble families in the Capital City were invited to attend. A grand feast was held and praises were showered upon Ozai throughout the night. It was one of the rare times Zuko didn’t have to worry about his father’s wrath, and so he should have been enjoying himself.
But he couldn’t, not when he could see that across the way another boy was flirting with you right in front of him.
You were Zuko’s everything- his childhood best friend that he’d always held harbored feelings for. During his banishment he thought of you constantly, and upon his arrival he immediately asked you to be his girlfriend. You were sweet and friendly, easily approachable and always able to cheer him up despite his moodiness, you were perfect. And apparently this other boy could see this too.
You smile out of politeness and nod along to the boy’s rambling story about his fire bending skills and high IQ, not very interested in listening but too nice to brush him off. It infuriates Zuko to see someone else take advantage of your kindness, and he’s unable to just sit back and watch any longer.
A harsh hand lands upon the boy’s shoulder, startling both of you in the process. Zuko’s eyes are blazing with fury, his palm scorching the fabric of the boy’s robes and scaring the spirits out of him in the process.
“Can’t you take a hint? She doesn’t want to talk to you!” the Prince bellow angrily, prompting a few guests nearby to turn their heads curiously towards the commotion. A bit embarrassed at the sudden attention, you gently pull Zuko’s hand away and drag him out to the gardens before he can escalate the situation any further. The last thing you need is for him to cause a scene at his father’s party.
“What?” Zuko says defensively as you wordlessly walk through the palace hallways. “I was helping you!”
“You were acting jealous again,” you chide gently.
“No I wasn’t!” He argues defensively only to shrink under your pointed gaze. “…I was.”
“I love you, Zuko, but I don’t love how jealous you can get sometimes. I’m your girlfriend, don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I do!” He interjects quickly, almost offended at the notion.
“Then what is it? Why do you act this way?”
Zuko is silent, his eyes casted sullenly to the floor as you patiently wait for his answer. You take his hands in your own and give them a reassuring squeeze to let him know you’re there for him, and the act seems to coax him out of his stupor.
“I’m afraid you’ll change your mind about being with me, and once the right guy comes along you’ll realize you’re better off without me,” he admits quietly, almost ashamed to voice the thought out loud.
“Zuko…” you utter sadly, heartbroken at the fact that he could even believe such a thing.
“Why do you want to be with a boy who’s been exiled from his own country before? Whose own father burned his face? Who’s so messed up in every way possible?”
Gently carefully cupping his face in your hands, you tilt his head upward to meet your sincere gaze. His eyes are glossy with tears he refuses to let fall, and your heart aches for the poor boy before you. You wish you could take away all of his hurt in agony, but you can’t, so you do your best to take away his insecurity instead.
“I wish you could yourself the way I see you,” you tell him lovingly. “You are more than enough for me, more than I could ever ask for. You’re strong, you’re brave, you’re smart. You’re you. I love you, Zuko. No one’s ever going to get into the way of that.”
He says nothing in response but simply yanks you into his arms for the tightest hug you’ve ever possibly received. You know he isn’t the best at words or emotions, but his embrace conveys that he is grateful for every word to come out of your mouth.
He knows he may be jealous at times, but he also knows that he doesn’t have to be anymore.
Because you’re not going anywhere.
| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303
| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin
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confessedlyfannish · 8 months
Text
DP x DC Writing Prompt #5
Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.
After a moment, the door opens.
"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.
"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.
"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."
Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.
"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"
"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.
For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.
Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.
Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"
"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.
"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.
"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.
"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.
"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.
"He did," Jazz says.
Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.
Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.
A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.
This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.
Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.
In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.
"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.
Damian stops dead in his tracks.
"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.
Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.
"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.
Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"
Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.
"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.
"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.
Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.
"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.
"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.
Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.
Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.
Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.
They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.
"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.
"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.
Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."
"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."
"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.
"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."
Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.
"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"
"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.
"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."
"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."
"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."
Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.
"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."
Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.
Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.
Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.
Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.
A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.
His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.
"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"
"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.
He never stopped practicing, after all.
"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."
"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."
Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.
"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.
"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."
"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."
Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.
"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."
"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."
"Mr. Wayne-"
"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."
Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."
"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."
For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.
"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."
"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.
He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.
Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."
Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."
Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."
"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."
Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."
"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."
"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.
"Even then."
Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.
"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.
"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.
But for his brother, Danny will wake up.
"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."
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moralesispunk · 2 months
Text
John Price x wife x Simon - now lets talk about John who wants kids but found out he can’t get you pregnant so asks a trusted friend - Simon
NSFW so minors dni (breeding kink, pinv unprotected)
(John x reader x Simon all links here)
John had proposed the idea one night and you had brushed it off, you did it again the second time, but the third time he told you about the idea, about how he had a friend who he would trust with his life and so would trust to get his wife pregnant, you started to think about it.
It was something that had clearly been weighing on his mind, on both your minds really though yours in a different way. Kids had always been in your idea of the future, especially a future after John's retirement, but after a year of trying with no success you both found yourself at a doctor holding a result that told you John couldn't have kids.
It was a hard blow for both of you but you decided to give yourselves some time to deal with the emotions of it first. That was, until John came up behind you one day in the kitchen for the third time, chin resting on your shoulder as he told you a way that you could have a kid that may not be his biologically but one he would love wholeheartedly.
"Let's just sit down, the three of us, and talk about it," he said.
So you agreed, "just talk no promises" you told your husband and he kissed your cheek with a smile, moustache tickling your skin as you laughed and wriggled away from him.
It was a night that had you making dinner and talking about your week, filling the silence nervously as you cleaned the plates away, before John pulled you to the living room and onto his lap on one sofa, Simon taking the other.
You both listened as Simon told you that he wanted kids but didn’t feel he could have a relationship. He didn’t want to just be some guy to your kid, he wanted to be another dad, who got to see them and take them at weekends and be no different to you or John. John's hand was a steady weight on your back as you listened, and then after a moment to think about it agreed, the three of you deciding to forgo the expensive procedures with doctors and, as John said, do it the ol’ fashioned way.
So here you were, lying on your back and looking up at Simon who was slowly pushing himself into you. John was sitting in the chair in the corner, having spent the last forty minutes or so helping Simon stretch you open, using his thumb on your clit as Simon curled his fingers inside you until you had come twice before John said you were ready.
"Fuck," Simon groaned and your hands clawed at the covers until he was fully seated inside you.
Your eyes were tearing up. He was bigger than John, although not as girthy, and hitting you deeper than you had felt before. Your head rolled to the side towards John and he could see in your eyes that you needed something more, sitting up from the chair and coming to kneel by the bed.
"You can take it." John stroked a hand over your head. "Can't you, angel?"
"Mhm!" You moaned, Simon's fingers digging into your hips as he started to thrust into you faster.
"Let me hear you," John said, thumb pressing down on your chin so you stopped biting your bottom lip and let your moans out.
You weren't sure who to moan for, what to do. "I can take it," you said, looking at John, but he shook his head.
"Tell Simon."
You rolled your head back and looked up at Simon, your fingers reaching to stroke along his knuckles before he took your hand in his. "I-I can take it, Si-" You cut off on another moan and Simon's eyes were nearly rolling to the back of his skull.
You were both getting close, Simon's chin tucked to his chest as he watched his cock get lost in you and your eyes were rolling when John started rubbing circles on your clit.
"Gonna fill my wife up?" John asked and Simon grunted, his eyes flicking up to yours.
"You goin' to let me? Let me get you good and pregnant?" Simon asked through his grunts and your back archesd off the bed, muttering of please, please, please passing your lips in breathy moans.
"Need you to come for me first," he said and John kept that steady pressure against your clit that he knew you liked, his lips pressed against your temple.
John reached for your other hand, the one not holding Simon's and felt you squeeze it as you came closer to your orgasm. "You're so good," he whispered against your skin "You're doing so well, you're almost there."
"Fuck, Simon! J-John!" You squealed and both men groaned, John wrapped his hand around his cock and stroking it in time with Simon's thrusts.
Your body tensed and relaxed as you came, Simon holding you there with one hand on your hip, your head turning and kissing John who was spilling over his hand. He swallowed all of your moans, pulling back when Simon started to work through his release and he pulled Simon to you, his friend now kissing his wife as he spilled into you.
Simon's kisses were different from John's and you let go of both their hands to run through his hair. He was softer in his kisses, tentative almost as small whines came from the back of his throat until his body relaxed on top of yours.
"Hips up, baby," John's voice came from beside you and Simon pulled back, rolling to the side as John slid a pillow under your hips.
"I don't know if there's science behind this," you giggled, dizzy and sated.
"Not taking any chances," Simon whispered, his rough hand running down your stomach.
After a while the men carried you to the bath, washed you and had you hydrated and tucked back under the covers. If you had been more aware of your surroundings and not on the edge of a deep sleep, you would probably be thinking about that might have been it, how you, Simon and John might be having a baby.
Simon bent down and kissed your forehead, smiling against your lips when you tilted your head up to kiss him proper.
"Well, I should-" Simon reached for his jeans but you stopped him with a hand wrapped around his wrist.
"Stay," you said, tugging his wrist once.
His eyes flicked to your husband and he must have found whatever he was looking for because he dropped his jeans by the side of the bed and lay down beside you, pulling your body into his chest.
John lay on your other side, pulling the duvet up and switching off the bedside lamp.
John had wondered if part of him would struggle with this set up, whether he would get jealous and call it off, yet when he looks at you in Simon's arms it feels right. Especially when, even while asleep, you reach a hand out to wrap around his.
________
ready to run into the sea after writing that
2K notes · View notes
kentocidal · 10 months
Text
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lucky winner
users: piercer!bakugou x afab!fem!reader x tattoo artist!kirishima
internal warnings: descriptions of needles/tattoos/piercings as they occur, long fic, wow there's plot in this!, consensual threeway, established krbk, oral (m and f!receiving), piv, spit, size kink, light dacryphilia, spitroasting, inaccurate positioning, ask to tag
internal notes: three way won the poll so i went ham. my fault og. final word count somehow came to 5.2k ish.
new notifications: @kaedescara
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you stared blankly at the notification on your phone, wide-eyed and jaw agape. you blinked slowly, rubbed a hand down your face, and then clicked your phone off and back on again. the screen lit back up to your screensaver and the single notification that sat covering it. ‘@sincitytattoojp tagged you in their story! check it out!’
you looked up from your phone to your friend, who you now realized was calling your name and snapping her fingers. “uh, hello? earth to y/n? what’s going on? did your ex message you or something?”
“i think i won something.” you mumbled, turning your phone to show your friend. she furrowed her brows together and took your phone from your hand, studying the notification before cracking a grin. 
“is this that tattoo parlor in tokyo that you keep talking about hypothetically going to?” she laughed as she punched in your passcode and opened up instagram, pressing on the icon to the parlor’s instagram story.
you were quick to snatch your phone back to watch the story yourself, raising the volume on your phone to hear it. it was a video of someone’s hand reaching into a very full fishbowl of printed instagram handles, pulling out a tiny piece of paper and unfolding it to reveal your instagram username. the caption read in big red lettering, “congrats to @[y/n] for winning the human canvas raffle. reply to this post by midnight to schedule your slot.”
you swallowed thickly and looked up at your friend. “i won the fucking raffle. i won the nine hour session.”
your friend sucked in a breath before laughing and lifting her glass to you. “godspeed, soldier.”
you looked back down at your phone and clicked back to rewatch your name be pulled from the bowl. you had entered the contest on a whim – you hadn’t expected to win. you had reposted the parlor’s picture and tagged your three closest friends to enter a bid into becoming a human canvas for a day, i.e. getting tattooed and pierced until you tapped out. the parlor owners couldn’t seem to decide on whether to call it the human canvas contest or the no mercy challenge, not that it mattered. both fit the bill to describe what you had just won.
you swiped up on the story.
you: i dont know whether to be terrified or excited.
@sincitytattoojp: both, sweetheart. sign this and get it back to us [1 attachment]
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you had gone through an extensive back and forth that night, printing and signing and scanning different waivers and papers to ensure that you would be able to handle an entire day of sitting in a chair getting poked and prodded with needles and getting art permanently printed on your skin forever. you were grateful that they took so much precaution in ensuring you were well aware of the situation you were putting yourself in, and getting ample consent confirmed ahead of time. you already felt comfortable as you stepped off the train in tokyo and started towards the shop.
sin city tattoo and body art. the small tattoo shop had garnered a massive following around the globe for the gorgeous work that consistently poured from the studio. the artists had never shown their faces on their page, but it was clearly just a two man show. sometimes one of them would film the other doing their newest piece on a client they handpicked from the waiting list, and it was clear that the two were a little more than close friends. 
you trusted their work. you were a new client, obviously, but after following their page for over a year, you knew you would be okay with going through with this. you were just… inexperienced. you had a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on your ankle and your ears double pierced in the lobes, but that was it.
you rounded the corner and saw the neon sign over the glass doors to the shop, the shutters pulled down. you took a deep breath and tried the door, mildly surprised that it opened up. a tiny bell chimed over your head as you stepped inside.
the shop was small, but it was clean. absolutely pristine. for a tattoo shop called sin city, you were expecting a bit more of a grunge theme, not exactly the creamy white walls littered with black picture frames of flash art available for purchase, a tall cabinet filled with various jewelry for fresh piercings, plants in the corners surrounding two chairs that were supposedly for a waiting area. there was a tall partition behind the front desk, and the shop stretched backward, most likely leading to a tattoo chair and then a piercing table, respectively. 
you stood awkwardly by the front door, gripping your bag in front of you. you had brought a few little snacks and some water in preparation for being there all day. you shuffled your feet as you heard footsteps coming up from the back of the shop, and suddenly you were reconsidering your outfit choice. you had tried to be helpful by going with a tight spaghetti strap tank top and a high riding skirt, knowing that you would probably need to shuffle clothes around during the course of the day.
your thoughts got clogged almost immediately when a brick wall of a man rounded the partition, scratching the back of his neck and staring down at you with big red eyes that looked curious, almost playful. he had to have been at least six-five, looming over you with broad shoulders and bulky arms that were covered in tattoos that went all the way down to his knuckles. his red hair was tied half-up half-down, the black roots at his forehead showing through.
you gaped at him like a fish out of water, face starting to feel warm as he glanced you up and down, and then smiled, revealing a wide set of sharp sharklike teeth. “aye, kats! i think she’s here!” he called over his shoulder before stepping behind the front desk. “you’re our pretty contest winner, right?”
“uh-”
“my name’s eijirou kirishima. i’m the main tattoo guy here.” he grinned at you, boyish and peppy, and it stifled your nerves somewhat as you returned the smile, but you were flustered beyond belief. you had seen the videos of him tattooing, you knew at least that his hands were big, but not the rest of him.
“ah, yeah, hi. i’m y/n. it’s nice to see your fsce for once.” you giggled nervously, and he laughed and nodded.
“yeah, we’re not all about showing who we are online. the page got too big, tokyo’s a big place, we don’t want the extra attention, yknow?” he smiled warmly at you as he bent down and shuffled through some paperwork under the desk, pulling it out and gesturing for you to come closer. “i know we already got a lot of your stuff online, but this is the last waiver. pretty much a final agreement that we get to do whatever we want to your body until you either tap out, or the clock hits six, whichever comes first.” 
you made a little squeaking noise at his phrasing, glancing at his face as he just continued to smile. he fumbled around for a pen and held it out to you, and you reached to take it, but he snatched it back and leaned across the desk. “just so you know, you can say stop at any time. we’re not forcing you to be here. if you say no to an idea, we won’t do it. stuff like that. okay?”
you blinked at him. he seemed so genuine, really making sure he was thorough in his explanations of the paperwork and of your position in this. it helped you take a deep breath and nod. “i know. i’m all good.”
“awesome. you seem like a real trooper.” he chuckled in a deep, rumbly voice, and finally held the pen back out to you. 
you took it, your soft fingers brushing over his rough skin and making you feel like your hand was alight in flames. you signed your name at the bottom of the form, dated it, and slid it back across the desk to kirishima. he just grinned at you and shoved the paper into the desk again.
“bakugou! come on, man! she’s all good!” kirishima leaned his head around the partition, and you jumped slightly when the familiar voice of kirishima’s partner sounded from the back of the shop.
“i fucking heard you the first time, i’m not fucking deaf!”
“well, just hurry up!” kirishima laughed and turned back to you. “sorry, he’s a real stickler for making sure his spot is all clean. i’m clean, but he’s a neat freak.”
“who’re you calling a neat freak, red?” a slightly shorter man stepped out from down the hallway, and again you felt your breath catch in your throat.
he was still tall, but far more intimidating in his black wife beater and jeans. he took off his mask that had been covering the lower half of his face, revealing a nose piercing and snake bites around plush lips. his fluffy blonde hair was standing up in all the right places, piercing red eyes looking your form up and down as he cracked his knuckles. his arms were littered patchwork-style, much different than kirishima’s full sleeves, and he clearly liked to hit the gym seven days a week.
you gulped and shifted your weight as bakugou’s eyes drifted over you. “name’s katsuki bakugou. you’ve already met red. didya sign the form?”
“uh, yes. all of the forms.”
“great.” his eyes locked on yours. clearly, this guy was all about professionalism and business, at least while he was on the clock. then he turned his head to kirishima. “so, where did you want to start her?”
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you found yourself laid down on your chest, head turned to the side to stare at bakugou’s back as he organized something off to the side. music was playing, but you could hardly hear it over the buzzing of the tattoo gun and the weight of kirishima’s hand on your back.
you chewed on your lip as you felt the needle trace over the skin of your lower back, occasionally lifting to get more ink, only to return and start the ministrations over again. it wasn’t an easy spot to get ink done; tramp stamps were adorable and sexy, but the skin on that part of a person’s back is notoriously thin. despite this, however, you always found the pain to be… enjoyable. 
you felt kirishima’s free hand slide over to the middle of your back, splaying out, applying some pressure to get a better angle as he leaned over you. if he wasn’t wearing a mask, you would be able to feel his warm breaths fanning out against your sensitive skin. your eyes fluttered and you did your best not to move as your neurons fired over the sheer size of his hand against your back. splayed out like that, his fingertips were on one side and the heel of his hand almost felt like it was on the other. perhaps your perception was being warped on account of the buzzing needle poking your back, but you couldn’t be entirely sure.
kirishima added more pressure even as the needle lifted away from your skin, pushing you down into the bed, making you squeak softly. bakugou’s head turned briefly to you, glinting in the white overhead lighting almost devilishly, before turning away again.
“so,” kirishima’s low voice made you flinch slightly, having been entranced by the weight of him looming over your form, “i don’t really see any ink on you. is this your first time?” you heard him chuckle into his mask as he waited for you to relax again, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down, before pressing the needle down again. “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, hun.”
you felt like some kind of high schooler talking about her virginity. “it’s- it’s fine. no, it’s not my first, but it’s my first big one. i’ve got a little one on my ankle.”
“your ankle?” he repeated, still pressing the needle to your skin and definitely coloring a shape in. “who did that for you? wasn’t us.”
“right, yeah.” you giggled slightly, really trying not to move as you wiggled the foot that held the little tattoo. “just an old friend who was an apprentice somewhere else.”
“ankle’s a rough place for a first tattoo,” grumbled bakugou, finally turning towards you and sitting down in a chair a little ways away, manspreading in your peripheral. “how’d you sit for that?”
“it hurt, but i liked it.” you mumbled back honestly, glancing back when you felt kirishima put the tattoo gun down and reach with a gloved hand towards your ankle, bending your leg at the knee to study the work.
“hm. it’s real cute on you, but i would’ve done it a little different.” his thumb brushed over the tattoo, over the thin skin of your ankle, sending a spike of heat through your body. “i could touch it up later.” he guided your leg back down and brushed his hand over the back of your thigh briefly before picking his tattoo gun back up and reapplying that heavy pressure to your back again.
“yeah, okay…” you murmured breathily, feeling small underneath kirishima’s weight and the power of bakugou’s gaze where he was staring at you, at kirishima, at how kirishima’s hands left indents in your skin as he worked.
your mouth felt like it was full of cotton, your head feeling like all the blood had drained from it and gone south. you shouldn’t be thinking like this, feeling like this, not while effectively getting stabbed thousands of times per minute.
bakugou hummed as he stood up again to get within your line of sight. “you said you liked the pain, huh? you one of those weird people that gets a high off of getting ink done?”
you felt your face burst with heat, unable to move as you opened your mouth and stammered. kirishima chuckled behind his mask.
“don’t tease, kats.”
“‘m not teasin’. i was just sayin’ that i agree with her.” bakugou smirked at you before stepping around the wall to go get a water from the fridge.
kirishima’s free hand slid from your middle back to just above your ass, his thumb rubbing into the fabric of your tight skirt as he worked.
“you’re sitting really well for this, doll. ‘m proud. probably one of my favorite things to do is back tattoos. especially these.”
you hummed softly in the back of your throat, probably mumbling a thank you that just made him laugh again.
you didn’t say anything when his free hand squeezed your ass as he leaned back to get more ink in the gun.
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kirishima had spread the second skin across your pretty new tramp stamp with precision, making sure it wouldn’t wrinkle or peel away until your tattoo was healed. you were given a snack of chips and a bottle of water to recuperate while bakugou prepped his area, pulling on a mask and snapping black latex gloves over his hands. “so, how ya feelin’?”
“good,” you took a breath as you capped your water, sitting quietly on the tattoo bench and waiting to move to the piercing table. “ready to move on, i guess.”
“hope you don’t mind, but i took some photos when red was doing you.” he glanced over his shoulder, and you smiled and waved it off.
“i don’t mind at all. my friend didn’t believe me when i said i was actually gonna come.”
“that so?” bakugou cocked a brow, his mouth hidden behind the black mask. “anyway, what’re you thinking for this next bit? industrial? nose?”
“ah.” you shifted on the bench, glancing away from him as kirishima rounded the corner. “i was, uh. i was thinking i could get my… i could get my nipples pierced first? get the worst ones out of the way?”
kirishima blinked once and immediately shot a look to bakugou, who made eye contact. it was like telepathy; there was a silent exchange between them before bakugou nodded and waved for you to step over. “sure, whatever. it’s definitely not the worst pain, though.”
“really?” you stood on jelly legs and walked over to the piercing bench, sitting down in front of bakugou, who pulled a chair over to sit.
“mhm. worst i would say for a girl is the clitoral hood.”
you flushed and shook your head. “no thanks. i think i’ll stick to this for now.”
“okay.” bakugou sat back in his chair, staring at you. you stared back, tilting your head. bakugou furrowed his brows and clicked his tongue, making an ‘up’ motion with two fingers. only then did it click that you needed to take your shirt off.
you looked around as you started to tug your tank top up, looking over at kirishima, who was leaning against the wall with fascination. “ah, sorry! if you really want, i can leave.”
“no! no, it’s fine.” you shook your head, and finally got the courage to lift your tank top up and over your head. in preparation for this, you had simply forgone your bra in the morning.
you were left in just your skirt and panties, essentially. kirishima hummed low in his throat, earning him a glare from bakugou. you felt like you were on fire when bakugou reached a hand out to your shoulder. “lay back. slow.”
you shuddered under his grasp and laid back on the table, bringing your feet up and bending your knees to be a little more comfortable. your nipples pebbled and hardened from the cold air of the parlor.
bakugou studied your tits with an intense gaze, clearly focused on his job in a way that kirishima was not. where kirishima was flirty, groping and grabbing, bakugou was cold and practiced.
“so this is gonna go something like this. one of these is gonna hurt more than the other. when i tell you, you gotta breathe in, and then breathe out all at once. it’ll make the pain a little easier to handle.”
“okay.”
“i’ll be quick, but we gotta do one at a time.” he grabbed a skin safe marker and finally his hands reached for one of your tits, rubbing his thumb into the skin as he marked where the needle would enter and exit. you felt like you were shaking, being grabbed and examined in such a professional manner.
“you can’t have any fuckin’ saliva or jizz or whatever touch these till they’re fully healed, you got that?”
you squeaked, almost jumping in surprise at his words, before laughing and shaking your head. “no worries there.”
“you sure?” bakugou tilted his head, eyebrow raised, and kirishima laughed as he walked over towards the bench.
you didn’t get a chance to answer bakugou, because kirishima was by your head, offering his massive hand to you. “you can squeeze my hand so you don’t pass out.”
you looked up at him through your lashes, squirming on the bench as bakugou squeezed your tit. you didn’t answer, just reaching your hand up to hold onto kirishima’s. his hand was large, warm, and so rough. you wanted to feel his-
“alright sugar. take a deep breath in for me.”
you sucked in a breath through your teeth, and then suddenly a white hot pain shot through your body, something never experienced before. your vision whited out and you may or may not have cried out and dug your nails into kiri’s hand, gripping it tightly.
your head swam as you were encouraged to breathe, and then to breathe in again as the wide bar was slipped through the new piercing. you yelped and jerked on the table, making bakugou put his gloved hand flat between your tits to try and ground you. “relax, brat. stay fucking still. gotta get this stupid ball on.”
“aw, she’s cryin’.” kiri chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. your cheeks did feel wet as the pain subsided slowly. you whimpered as bakugou leaned away from you and reached to grab another needle package and the second bar.
“one more, drama queen. you can do it. just one more.”
“already?” you whined, shaking your head at him as he scooted his chair closer to get a better angle on your other nipple.
you did not get a chance to beg for mercy. “breathe in deep, good fuckin’ girl.”
you screamed this time. bakugou had been right, one hurt more than the other. your head felt so light all of a sudden, your vision blurring as you gripped kirishima’s hand like a vice and shook. your breath punched out of you when the bar was pushed through and the little ball at the end was screwed on.
you stared up at the ceiling and tried to get your bearings as kirishima let go of your hand to pet your hair and keep it away from your tears. “you did it, pretty girl. you got it. just breathe. did such a great job, yeah?”
you gathered your thoughts together as you listened to bakugou get up and take his gloves and his mask off, tossing them away, ever the professional. he walked back over to where you were laying and held up a mirror over you to show you your new jewelry. the sight made the pain worth it; your nipples, perky and red and hard, glittering with bars pushed through.
“what do ya think?” bakugou cocked his head at you, and you let out a deep breath.
“they look… really nice.”
“really sexy, more like.” kirishima chuckled over you as he openly ogled your chest.
you made a noise of surprise, which was immediately followed by your voice getting caught in your throat when bakugou’s free hand moved to start rubbing up and down your thigh. “you okay?”
“y-yeah.”
“you need a break?”
“i think so.”
bakugou nodded and looked to kirishima, who broke into a grin and bent over you just a little, his voice dropping an octave. “let’s take a nice long break, then, huh doll? you think you might wanna relax a bit with us? take your mind off the pain?”
“what?” you shifted to sit up on your elbows, wincing from the pain in your chest, looking between them.
kirishima laughed, “come on, doll. i know you didn’t come in here wearing just that tiny skirt for nothin’.”
“you can say no.” bakugou’s hand moved off your thigh, clearly the more level headed of the two. “we’ll take a break and come back in a half hour to keep going-“
“wait.” you flushed and put up a hand to make him shut up, glancing between them. “you’re not- together?”
“well, yeah, fucking obviously we are,” bakugou rolled his eyes at you while kiri chuckled, “but if we see a hot chick, we’re not gonna say no.”
“true.” kiri was practically purring.
they were standing over you, broad shoulders and tattooed hands and muscle, red eyes honed in on your shirtless form, and for some reason you allowed your inhibitions to fall away.
you took a deep breath and pouted. “just don’t make me get an infection on my new piercings.”
“never.” bakugou cracked his first real grin, foxlike and dirty, already moving back down towards your legs to start pushing your knees apart. you sat up a bit more, onto your hands, sucking in a breath when the bench dipped under bakugou’s added weight as he pushed your knees far apart and revealed your plain cotton panties with an obvious wet spot in the crotch, your pussy throbbing with the realization.
bakugou hummed as he slid rough fingertips down the insides of your thighs. “look at that shit, red. she’s already soaked. got this pretty pussy all needy even after pokin’ her.”
“figured as much. she was all spaced out during her tat.” kiri’s meaty hand slipped around the column of your throat, practically engulfing it in one palm as he turned your head to make you look up at him.
you gasped, and kirishima’s mouth came crashing down onto yours; he had to practically crouch to get even close to you where you were sitting. your hands flew up to his hair, body twisting slightly as bakugou started to work his fingers along your hips to further push your skirt up around them.
you felt yourself start to whimper as bakugou pushed your panties to the side and slipped two fingers through your wet folds. you shook and moaned as his fingers skillfully rubbed slow circles into your clit, making your hips jerk.
kiri laughed against your lips and squeezed his hand slightly around the column of your throat, pulling away from your mouth to look at your dazed expression. “lay back, doll.”
he guided you back to lay on the bench again, letting go of your throat only for a moment to start unbuckling his belt. “kats, i’m takin’ her mouth first, mkay?”
“hm?” bakugou glanced up from where he was licking his lips, about to press his nose to your pussy. “oh, yeah sure whatever. i’m getting a taste first.”
“someone’s got an oral fixation.”
“shut the fuck up, you red-haired loser.”
you felt yourself start to giggle at their interactions, but suddenly there were lips wrapped tightly around your cliff and a fat cock hanging over your face, drooling with pre.
you swallowed as your mouth practically started to water. your head was spinning as bakugou worked his tongue against your clit, a finger starting to push its way into your right, wet heat. you moaned and felt your eyes flutter, fingers curling into the sides of the piercing bench. “ah, i-i don’t know if i can fit-“
“shh. all you gotta do is swallow. can you try just the tip?” kiri cocked his head at you, suddenly all puppy eyes as he stroked his cock to his boyfriend eating you out.
you whimpered and nodded. how could you say no? you ground your hips against bakugou’s face as your lips parted, and kirishima pushed just the fat head of his cock past them with a low groan.
you felt full. bakugou started to push a second finger into your weeping hole, drool and your juices dripping down his chin and dotting the bench as he ate you out and found the spongy spot within you that made your back arch off the bench, knees attempting and failing to snap shut around his head. bakugou growled against your pussy, unhappy with you disturbing his meal.
you couldn’t respond what with kirishima shallowly thrusting into your mouth, working inch after inch into you. you felt his heady tip hit the back of your throat as your head hung down over the edge of the bench, and you coughed and sputtered.
“shh, careful, careful. breathe.” his hand returned to your throat, feeling the way he slipped further and further in. his balls hung down in your face as he started to effectively fuck your throat, groaning when you whined around him.
you did your best to suck his cock, slobbering and drooling down your cheeks as your eyes rolled back when bakugou removed his mouth and rubbed circles into your clit with his thumb. “she tastes fuckin’ good.”
“yeah? y’think so?”
“yeah,” bakugou breathed out, almost like an offering, and as he pulled his fingers out of your wet pussy, he shoved them directly into kirishima’s mouth.
kiri groaned loudly and sucked on bakugou’s fingers with the eagerness of a dog, gripping your throat with one hand and bakugou’s wrist in the other. he made sure bakugou’s fingers were clean before letting go and rolling his hips against your face. “shit.”
“mhm.” bakugou was panting as he hurriedly fussed with his jeans, shoving them down enough to get his cock free. it was difficult, positioning himself on the bench, but he made it work as he slapped his tip against your clit.
you cried out and gagged again on kirishima’s fat cock, gurgling pathetically while they both laughed at you.
“poor babydoll,” bakugou hissed, pressing his tip to your entrance, “she can hardly breathe, eiji.”
“she’s doin’ a good fucking job. i can feel how deep i am in her throat.”
“i can fuckin’ see that.” bakugou snapped right back before taking a deep breath and sinking so slowly into your pussy.
your walls fluttered around his cock as he sheathed himself inside you, one hand gripping your hip dangerously tight and the other reaching to grab for kirishima’s free hand. “fuck, red, she feels so fucking tight.”
“if- if you think her pussy’s tight, wait till you feel her throat.” kiri panted lowly as he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand over you.
you felt like an object, a plaything, lightheaded and so, so full, almost screaming when they both started to fuck into you at once; they were slightly off pace, both focused on their own pleasure, chasing their highs and smothering you all the while.
kirishima’s hand slid from your throat to the middle of your chest, a compressing weight that left you truly breathless as his balls practically smacked into you. you did your best to try and suck his cock, really, you did, but it was so difficult when bakugou was bullying your pussy and making you shake and cry out.
kirishima was the first to falter, his hips starting to jerk erratically as your vision blurred from tears of pleasure. “oh fuck yeah, fuck, ‘m gonna cum-“
“already? pathetic.” bakugou snapped, only egging kirishima on and making him whine as he tossed his head back and came deep in your throat, making you gag and choke.
he didn’t pull out until the thick, heady ropes of his cum were seated on your tongue, taking a step back to let his fat cock slap wetly against his thigh. it was clear, then, that his refractory period was short; he was already at half mast again as he watched bakugou fuck you into the bench, hiking one of your legs up around his waist to get deeper.
you cried out loudly, voice ragged and ruined as bakugou’s thumb returned to your clit.
“come on pretty girl, lemme feel you cum around my fuckin’ cock first. come on. i know you’re close. i can feel ya squeezin’ me in. shit, baby, fucking cum for me.”
your back arched off the table and your eyes rolled back as you came hard around his cock, your vision going white as you jerked and spasmed on the table. bakugou moaned and dropped his head forward, holding on until the last second when he could pull out and cum all over your twitching cunt, jerking himself off all the way. thick ropes of cum splattered against your skin and made you shiver, all parts of you sensitive.
kirishima, cock still out and hard again, stepped over to swipe his fingers through your pussy and get a taste of yours and bakugou’s cum, groaning deep in his throat as he pressed an almost chaste kiss to bakugou’s cheek. “you wanna fuck her throat next?”
“fuck yes i do.”
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