if u have thick thighs pls can i sit in ur lap while we make out

1 + 10 = Dark and Primal (Predator/Prey) Kink

Summary: Exactly what the title says!

Warnings: Reader is gender-neutral but does own a vagina, primal kink roleplay, semi-public sex, dom/sub, squirting, multiple orgasms, and dirty talk. Ye have been warned!

A/N: This is the first fic drabble to come from the number prompt game!

Tag List:

@when-the-sun-goes-dark

@underthedark13

@fruitypieq

As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations/tips and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

“Tell me something,” A deep, rich voice spoke suddenly, “What’s a darling thing like you doing out here, all alone, so late at night?”

Instantly your head whipped to the side, eyes narrowing to scrutinize the tree line for any sign of the stranger, but found nothing other than darkness in return. You were about ready to continue on your trek and blame it on the sleepless night when the intruder let out a rumbling chuckle, the noise echoing around you in every direction.

Hairs now standing on end, you clutched your bag tighter to your body and asked nervously, “Who-Who’s there?”

“Answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”

Your lips suddenly felt too dry, the night too cold, the lamp posts too dim, as you belatedly realized that you’d not seen another person on this sidewalk for way too long. It was just you and this stranger.

“I-I’m just walk-walking,” you stammered pitifully.

Dread pooled in your gut and the sense of being utterly alone and helpless intensified egregiously as one by one all the lamp posts in your line of sight flickered out.

“Ooh fuck,” you whispered.

Finally, your self-preservation instinct kicked in and you took off running. It was a dark night, the moon a sliver in waning crescent and providing almost no light. Every slap of your shoes on the ground felt like a league farther from the man. Even as your heart pounded in your ears and your lungs burned with the taste of blood, you didn’t dare slow down. How far would you have to run? Did you dare take your chances hiding out in the woods?

As soon as hope started to rise, it was quickly dashed back down.

“You humans, so fragile.”

The whispered voice in your ear tore a frantic scream from your throat, fear locking up your legs, sending you tumbling forward. Of course you would fall! It wasn’t until he laughed, a smooth luscious sound, that you realized you were braced tight for an impact that hadn’t come.

“What the…”

When your eyes finally opened, you saw the concrete of the sidewalk uncomfortably close to your face but not touching. And then you were lifted. Darkness shrouded your view as arms tightened around your torso and brought you back to your own two feet. A cool gentle breath caressed the shell of your ear seconds before you felt the familiar shape of a nose against your neck.

“I’m giving you one last chance,” he huffed bemusedly, “Think fast but run faster, little fawn, for it will take all of your abilities to escape me.”

“W-Who are you?!” you gasped out.

As the darkness left your vision and the hands retracted from your sides, he purred almost imperceptibly, “I go by Dark, but you may call me sir.”

Then all at once, you were alone. You hesitantly looked around, eyes wide with fear.

“RUN!”

A fearsome screech of terror scratched your throat raw as you stumbled and took off as quickly as possible. You knew if you stayed on the paved path he’d only catch you just as easily as before. You had to chance the forest.

No matter how quiet you tried to be, it felt like every noise you made called out to him thricefold. Your breaths sounded like alarms in your ears and the forest floor cried out like little spies with every timid step you made.

“Oh little fawn, where might you be?”

“Shit,” you whispered in shock.

How were you ever to evade him? It was obvious he wasn’t human. There was no possible way a human could catch up to you without making noise, could track you so perfectly in a nearly pitch black forest. Of course there were also the insane reflexes, catching you so close to the ground, and his ability to speak clearly to you while being nowhere in sight.

Oh so slowly, you let your guard down as you shuffled carefully through the heavily wooded area and got lost in your thoughts; finding out what he was, felt as important as hiding from him. A soft noise of triumph escaped your lips as you spotted a rather large hollow in the base of a giant tree. Your eyes darted around one last time to make sure you didn’t see anyone before you ducked into the wood shelter.

Just as your back pressed up against the trunk, you heard a twig snap outside. The forest was uncannily quiet, no sound of animals nor wind to impede noises made by either you or him.

“A smart little thing you are, aren’t you?”

Your breath caught as fear slammed your heart into your ribcage like a drum. His voice was close, too close. Another crunch of branches and leaves drew your eyes to the right of your hollow. Even in the darkness of the woods, his black pants stood out against the greens and browns. Your assailant was wearing… suit pants? Despite the silliness of the situation, your nerves only increased as he crept closer and closer to you.

“Where are you?” he sang out lowly.

Hushed humming graced your ears delightfully as he passed you, hands clasped behind his back as if simply taking a nice stroll. You couldn’t control the way your stomach fluttered as the beautiful cadence of his voice filled the hollow. Someone so dangerous shouldn’t sound so inviting.

A quick rush of air released from your lungs as he continued on without incident and relief filled your veins. Head falling back, you let your eyes close and took deep slow breaths.

“It’s adorable that you think you’ve won, my little fawn.”

There wasn’t a word deep enough to describe the bone-chilling terror that flooded your body at the sound of his voice so close. Slowly your eyes fluttered open, only to discover a pair of legs standing in front of your only exit.

“Come out now, admit defeat, and I might even be gentle with you, darling,” he offered slyly.

“Fuck you,” you grit out.

Before you could second guess your actions, you bolted forward, right into his legs. While you were sure you didn't harm him, your actions surprised him enough to allow you the room to shove by. You had made it only a couple feet when hands were on you, one gripping your shoulder while the other pinched around the nape of your neck. A cry of shock and pain fled your lips as he shoved you face-first up against the nearest tree and pinned you with his body. Escape was looking more and more like a fool’s dream and yet you didn’t stop wiggling, trying your hardest to break free to no avail.

“Mmm, I do love it when my dinner puts up a fight, makes you smell all that more delectable,” he purred as his thigh slipped between yours, “And don’t fool yourself into believing I can’t smell just how aroused you are.”

Mortification burned up your face and you bit your lower lip hard to contain the distraught noise that threatened to break forth as he leaned into you. The pressure of his thigh served to further argue his point, your panties soaking up the slick between your thighs.

“P-Please,” you whispered shakily.

“Please what?” he mocked, “Please let you go? Now, you know I can’t do that, darling. I’m absolutely ravenous and you’re ripe for the taking.”

Teeth gently grazed the tender flesh of your throat and sent goosebumps across your flesh.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had such a sweet little human to play with,” he groaned quietly.

Fingers teased the sliver of skin poking from beneath your top, tracing the waistband of your shorts with languid little strokes; teeth mimicking the action against your neck.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this, darling. I’ve smelled your interest since the instant you started to run,” he whispered, giving another gentle roll of his hips.

Before you could contain it, an excited little squeak escaped as you felt the hardening bulge grind against your ass.

“There it is. Give in to me,” Dark murmured, “I promise this will be an experience unlike any other.”

You didn’t dare give an answer. The words felt too wrong on your tongue despite the sudden urge in your body demanding an agreement. As terrifying as he was, there was something about his presence that intrigued you. It felt like there was a war going on in your head as you gingerly wiggled your hips back against him and tilted your head to the side, allowing him full access to your neck.

The moan he gave in return made your knees weak.

In one rough movement, you heard the tell-tale rip of your shorts being ruined and then your hips were lifted in the next.

“Ooh, look at the mess you’ve made of yourself, little fawn,” he cooed mockingly as a finger danced across your lips, “It will be all the easier to make you mine.”

That was your only warning before his cock was lined up against your cunt, thick head breeching every so slightly before he slammed in. Tears sprung up into your eyes and you buried your face harder against the bark as a pathetic cry warbled out. It was devastating and heavenly all at once. When he didn’t follow up immediately, you couldn't help but arch back into him.

“What a needy little thing you are,” he chuckled, “I’m going to have so much fun with you before I destroy you.���

Never in a thousand years did you think you’d find yourself in this position, being hunted down and fucked in the middle of the forest, and yet there wasn’t a place you’d rather be in that moment.

Dark’s pace was brutal, the position even more so. Every thrust of his cock rocked you up against the tree, bark scraping and digging at your skin. Every attempt to move back sunk him deeper inside you. It felt like a never ending sea of desire. It wasn’t long until you were begging for more, until the sting of the micro cuts on your skin was just another layer to the destructive pleasure coiling in your core.

“You want more? You want to come? Then touch yourself,” he ordered huskily, “Rub your clit and make yourself come on my cock while I claim you as mine.”

His meaning came through loud and clear. He intended to mark you in the most primitive of ways, in ways no one had before. You’d never let any other come inside you, too afraid of the risks.

“N-No, don’t-”

Fingers dug into your wrist and jerked your hand down between your cunt and the tree, forcing you where you wanted it most.

“It’s no use, darling, it’s too late,” he snickered, “You’re already in the lion’s den and there’s no escape. Not anymore. You belong to me now.”

You could feel his teeth bared a wicked smile against your skin before they clamped down around your throat. Pain exploded and pulsed through your veins with every beat of your racing heart, and yet it pervertedly only urged you faster. Your fingers shook under the duress of all the sensations assaulting your nerves but you worked them nonetheless, too lost to the desire.

His moan rumbled through your very being as you tightened uncontrollably around him, teetering just on the edge of bliss.

“Mine.”

That one word was spoken with such conviction and punctuated with absolute abandon, all sanity lost as you seemingly became a means to an end; a prey to claim and fill.

“Mine! All mine,” he snarled against your shoulder, “Give yourself to me, now!”

His hand came to cover yours and joined in the efforts, frantically abusing your sensitive nub until finally it all snapped.

“Ah f-fuck, D-Dark, oh my god!”

Your ruse slipped as his name spilled from your lips, but you couldn’t care less as everything coalesced with a vengeance. The pain, the pleasure, the emotions. It was all worth it as your pleasure drenched your thighs, a sob falling from your lips in debauched relief. Pulse after pulse of ecstasy rocked through your core as he fucked you through your first climax into another, and then another.

Stifled grunt and moans shifted gradually into full blown snarls of bliss as he threw your hands up against the tree, pinning both with one while his other arm wrapped around your waist and held you in place.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Shot after shot of hot cum filled your core, palpable with every throb of his cock, and you couldn’t resist melting back into him. With a final few thrusts, he released your hands only to pull you in close and hold you upright as he turned, putting himself between you and the tree as you both came down from the high.

“Holy hell,” you giggled, head tilting back to look up at him.

Dark gave a little chuckle and cupped your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks and directing you up into a gentle kiss.

“I promised the full experience. Was anything too much?” he asked.

“Mm-mm. It was perfect,” you whispered.

As best as you could in the awkward position, you snuggled back into him and pulled his arms around you.

“You can hunt me any time you want,” you admitted cheekily.

inertia

[crosshair x gn!reader] removing crosshair's inhibitor chip was never going to be an easy task, but you never expect it to demand an item of equal exchange. otherwise known as picking up the pieces with crosshair, together.

warnings: past paralytic injury, general angst, hurt-comfort

w/c: 2.2k

a/n: as much as i hate physics, you can't deny there's a poetry to the laws of the universe. inertia keeps heavy objects in place, and guilt's one of the heaviest burdens of all.

There are certain universal laws you learn while living on a ship, like the slightly upsetting fact that magnetism is relative and so is time. But there are constants: the behavior of gravity around a massive star, the physics of self-contained gas giants, and, on a less macrocosmic scale, that Crosshair’s armor has neat paint, all clean lines and sharp edges bordering plastoid and standard issue paint.

It only makes sense, a steady hand demanded by a life behind the trigger, you think quietly, watching Crosshair carefully scrape the excess red paint from his brush on the side of a flat scrap of metal. With only the low hum of the Marauder to fill the silence, you follow his brush as you stand in the armory threshold and simply observe the slow deliberation of an even, unwavering line drawn from a memory even the inhibitor chip could not blur.

Not that it’s a particularly difficult thing to paint, the sharp, stylized edge of a nine. But there is a silent weight to its image, a firm and resonant return in its bold crimson colour, reclaiming its rightful place on his shoulder in amends, if the restless bob of his toothpick says anything.

If you look long enough, it’s like he never left. Like you never lost your legs.

“You’re back early,” Crosshair says, dipping his brush back into the paint squeezed over his makeshift palette.

“The rest wanted to explore, but the humidity was getting to me. And I missed you,” you add, and your heart swells when you hear him laugh softly in return.

“I believe you,” he chuckles. It’s a rare thing to come by, laughter genuine and sweet, even with Crosshair’s return—perhaps, because of his return—but you take it gratefully either way.

Two cups of caf in hand, you push yourself off the doorway and move to join Crosshair at his place on the armory floor. But as you set a foot forward, a bolt of pain laces up your ankle. It’s the kind of pain that precipitates a fall, starting low in the arch of your foot, gaining a momentum that renders you immobile by the time it’s clawed up your thigh and fizzled around the cybernetic plate welded to the base of your spine.

It fells you without warning or remorse, cracking you open with the bone-deep sensation of memory. A single ultra-ionized shot through a modified rifle and silencer, calculated and surgically precise, a one of a kind and the only one you have known.

(It wasn’t his fault.)

You jerk forwards, caf sloshing dangerously close to the rim, and you distantly register the clatter of plastoid across the floor before you feel a shoulder push up from under your arm. Long fingers dig into your side, reminiscent of better days and tender touches shared in the quiet comfort of a bunk, and you pitch unsteadily, eyes squeezed tight enough to see white.

As much as you would like to confirm the certainty of a stable support before you can relax, the lingering dredges of atmospheric humidity and exhaustion of breaking into a high security imperial compound work cruelly against your strength. You can do little but give in.

Your knees buckle beneath you, and you sag against the only person on the ship able to brace your fall. Miraculously, the caf, handles squeezed tight under your white-knuckled grip, remains unspilled.

“I ruined your paint,” you laugh through your teeth, fuzzy black edges slowly receding from your field of vision as you blink your eyes open.

“And I shot you,” Crosshair hisses.

Crosshair lowers you to the floor, and you feel a full-bodied flinch shock through his form as your unmoving legs splay awkwardly over the cold metal. He is quick to take the cups out of your hand, setting them down with a hard clack before he returns his attention to you. You had always thought Echo would be the one on the receiving end of carefully placed touches to coax the pain of surgical scars and rough wiring away.

You never once dreamed it might be you, too.

One arm secured around your shoulders, he reaches down like it’s muscle memory to rub slowly over the scar tissue framing your implant. The scars are fresh, just barely a week old and forever seared over your skin, but guilt, you have found, tends to hasten the learning process, the scrambling compensation.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you sigh, leaning against Crosshair’s chest and dropping your head back against his shoulder.

“I aimed. I pulled the trigger, y/n.” He’s angry, a low, simmering rage held close and bubbling under the hard edge in his voice as his grip tightens around you. You feel it in the faint tremor in his arm, how he holds you tight to his side and silently wills you to stay.

He is angry, but it is not for you.

“You weren't you,” you mumble.

It’s second nature—it always has been, now, simply with pause—to turn your head when he’s nestled up against your back, to lean close, nuzzle into his neck, and ground yourself, ground him, in the silence of touch. Relief floods your chest, warm sunlight dawning over the thorn in your side, when you feel him chase your touch, settling both his arms around your waist and ducking down low to press his chin atop the crown of your head.

Nothing would ever be the same, but this was a start.

“If it wasn’t me,” Crosshair starts, his voice catching on a sputtering inhale, thick with the tangle of words unsaid. He clears his throat, and if you notice the curling edges of a tremor on his tongue, you say nothing. “If it wasn’t me, who else can you blame?”

“I don’t blame anyone,” you say into his skin, lips ghosting over his rapid pulse.

It’s a diplomatic answer. Of course you blame someone—Palpatine, Tarkin, the fact that Crosshair and his brothers, every last one of the clones, had been built around a single, biding initiative that he hadn’t the luck or the chance to resist. You had been sleeping with the enemy even before he knew that he could be the enemy.

But thinking about it makes your head spin. Blame is too hard, too tiring to place when you, yourself, had been sewn into its vast web. So while Crosshair had slept with a bacta patch plastered to his temple, you had rewired your spinal cord and decided to be away with the anger, the resentment, the mornings waking up in tears when you lifted your blanket and barely recognized that you had legs at all.

“Don’t fucking lie,” Crosshair spits, and you feel him shake around you. Anger, such an easy defense. Such a flimsy one.

“I’m not—”

“I hear you cry in the mornings when your cybernetics don’t click; I hear you scream when you try to move and your mind tells you one thing but your legs don’t fucking work because I made a killshot that paralyzed you—”

“And it paralyzed me because you had every chance to put a bolt through my head but you aimed for my back. You were fighting it, Cross,” you counter, voice quivering.

“But it was me. I took that shot, and you pretend like you don’t—like you don’t hate me because I still had my chip. But I remember it, and it was still me, and you have every right to—”

“Cross!” you shout, and he starts hard enough that you feel him jump. You feel blindly for his hand, gripped tight at his own wrist, and squeeze, hard. “I have my legs back. And sometimes they don’t work just right, but all I care about right now is that you’re back. It’s all I’ll ever care about.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he mumbles into your hair, the sudden burst of vitriol tamed and locked away for the moment.

You’re distinctly aware that he itches to push you away. You feel it in the uncertain pause rigid in his movements before he turns his palm to twine his fingers with yours. After all, it’s easier to cope when the object of your crushing guilt is at an arm’s length.

“This is the part where you’re supposed to comfort me, tell me that you missed me too and that I was right, and you say that everything’ll work out, Cross,” you laugh weakly. You gently knock your head against his collar, prodding, urging, anything to break the crushing silence you know haunts him every time he closes his eyes.

Instead, you feel a shuddering sigh against your ear, and Crosshair only dips his head low, hiding his face in your shoulder as his grip tightens around your waist. There is no sardonic quip or playful bite to offer you peace—only slow, mechanical breaths pressed into your skin in a desperate attempt to keep from falling apart altogether. You reach up, gingerly carding your fingers through his hair when you feel that telltale warmth seeping through the fabric of your shirt, salt sharp on your tongue.

“I shot you. I aimed to kill,” Crosshair mumbles, almost hysterical in level calm, the steady veil locking his tense jaw and drawn shoulders in place. “Why are you comforting me?”

“Would you rather I never speak to you again?” No malice in your tone, you shift your weight, bearing down against Crosshair and begging him to move closer. He does.

“It would be more believable if you did,” he mutters, and you catch the tail end of a soft sniff.

“Not really my thing, grudges,” you say. “Especially against the people I love.” Trailing your fingers lower, you slip below his hairline and begin stroking your palm over the back of his neck, bent forward at an unforgiving angle. You wonder how many times he’s curled into himself like this that he can simply sit, penance and grieving, and the ache that seizes your ribs hurts more than your cybernetic misfire.

“After all that,” he finally mumbles, something close to hushed awe in his voice. “You still love.”

Slowly, melting through the numb static crackle, you feel the sensation seeping back into your feet. You could always rebuild your mobility with some careful cerebrospinal implants, seasonal aches and occasional pains be damned, but you could never replace him.

“Of course I do,” you whisper back. Careful to keep the quiet, tremulous peace, you bring your hand down, sliding around the side of his neck to cup his jaw from behind, ignoring the wetness streaked over his skin. “Still loving,” you affirm, voice steady as you thumb over his cheek. “Still loving you.”

It takes a beat of silence, your words lingering in the still air of the armory, but instead of the tense, fraught grief of when your implant had fizzled out, there is warmth, present and forgiving. You know that nothing will ever be the same, but when Crosshair turns his head to press his lips into your palm, you know that you can still try. Like the waking groan of a crashed ship, you will pick up the pieces and power up one more time, again, again, again, as many times as it takes.

Crosshair nuzzles close, quietly basking in your presence as you sit curled together on the armory floor. And at last, his breaths still, slow and deep as the ship hums around you. He’s never been one for words, not even at his fever pitch of disorientation and distress. He doesn’t need to speak for you to know what he means when he clasps your hand again and holds tight, but his voice is a welcome sound all the same.

“Thank you.”

And for a while, that’s how you stay, breathing slowly and clinging to each other like moving apart would mean never coming back. And that’s how it genuinely does feel—the safety in stillness, carving out your own constant in the cosmic entropy of conquest and loss. For a moment, you can simply savor the quiet simplicity of being.

But the universe wills motion, stars colliding and collapsing and breathing new life all over again. So too, do you feel the strength return in lapsing waves to your legs and the coiled fear leach out of Crosshair’s posture.

“Promise me this,” you whisper, just loud enough to rise above the ambient noise of the ship as you curl your toes and feel again, lurching into motion like gears fallen into disrepair. Crosshair rouses behind you, and he sniffs deeply, once, before he presses his cheek to the side of your head—he is listening. “Promise me that we’ll move on.”

“I can’t promise that,” he says after a brief pause, words measured and low. “But I’ll try.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

As much as there are variables scattered through star systems and wreaking havoc wherever they go, so too are there constants pushing back against the chaos, aligning the universe. Like clockwork, when you wake, the stars turn, the gas giants dance, and when you squeeze Crosshair’s hand, he squeezes back.

CEO!AU Endeavor for @cherrytenko's collab...

Summary: Drabble, 1k-ish words for the CEO collab!

Warnings: Oral (m!receiving), dirty talk, slaps, slight threats, g!n w/ the mention of wife, vague mentions of being a pain bunny & sugar daddy/baby relationship.

"And don't come back until you've filed all the expense reports!"

The day started off poorly. The extensive and frankly redundant meetings did little to quell the rage the Boss was famous for. The little lemmings scurried out of the meeting room as if a fire had been lit underneath their asses. Ants, all of them. That was a compliment. At least ants knew what to do without being ordered.

The head of the infamous Endeavor Conglomerate was a man to be respected and feared. It was easier said than done to avoid his ire. Few employees lasted their internship at the company despite the overwhelming benefits that came with further employment after the allotted training period. They were all either fired due to their incompetence or they quit of their own volition, the stress of the expectations making them crack under the pressure. The businessman who fled from the meeting room weren't met with the usual tantrum that followed after their rough dismissal. They all had noticed how their boss was distracted. As if something more important had caught his attention but there was nothing more important to him than work. Everyone knew that. There had been rumors of a rival company making their way into their territory, making the large amounts of paperwork that covered his desk turn into mountains. The break room was quickly filled with gossiping men and women as they all discussed what could be wrong.

Enji groaned, hand smoothing back the gel that kept his scarlet hair in place. Everything felt hot, his breath was hot, the air was hot, even the leather chair underneath him felt hot. The planet's must've aligned to allow Mr. Todoroki to be thankful, thanking luck that he had been in such a hurry and had forgotten to put his jacket back on. The room felt like an oven so he could only imagine the sweltering heat if he was wearing the navy blue cover.

Rolling up his shirt sleeve he folded the cuffs up towards his elbow, hoping his forearms would catch any light breeze and cool his overheating body. Enji wasn't a man who could go to the gym on a daily, or even weekly, basis yet he still retained his muscles. Finding shirts that weren't tailor made was difficult to his unconscious habit of ripping the seams whenever he flexed, buttons bopping, fabric stretching until all that was left were threads and slabs of fabric. His arms were like the trunks of a great oak tree. Long, wide and covered with scars from his youth. His second defining feature besides his pectorals that connected to his personal favorite feature: his hands.

Oh, he knew very well that he had a hand kink. Twice the size of anyone else's his palm alone could smother a face with thick and wide fingers made it easy to thread into hair and grip a scalp with one hand. They could spread legs apart with ease and when they plunged inside a cunt it was all the prep they needed for his cock. Seeing his hand wrapped around a pretty throat riled him up like nothing else and leading someone's head up and down as he used their mouths as a cocksleeve the best stress reliever. Which was the very thing he was getting to.

One of the massive hands darted underneath the table to spread apart the flaps of his slacks, the zipper as far down as it could go but it still wasn't enough. His scorching cock hanging out in the shadow of the table as drool and pre cascaded down his calf towards his leather loafer. The evidence of lipstick smeared across his prominent V-Line made a messy trail towards the base of his manhood. Your lipstick. The gaudy color you promised to wear if he brought you to work. How could he not take up your offer to pleasure him during his work hours? You knew how hard he worked and how little time you got to spend with him. This was the best solution wasn't it?

"You dirty slut." The same hand gripped the chunk of hair at the crown of your head to pull you up from underneath the table. Your knees lifting off the uncomfortable carpet beneath you by the sheer strength Enji displayed without even realizing. The light hurt your bleary eyes, making you tear up even more than you already were from the burn in your jaw. A light shining on your filthy deeds underneath the table. "You nearly gave it away, whore. What do you think would happen to my reputation if they found out my slutty wife was sucking me off in front of them?"

There was no chance to answer as the other hand came down hard against your cheek, leaving a handprint shaped welt on that side of your face. You may as well have been fucked dumb by the cloudy film over your loving eyes and the lopsided grin that grew from the pain. How lucky was he to find an escort like you years ago who could keep up with his sadistic desires. What turned from a business arrangement to release his pent up frustration out on you turned into you becoming his pretty spouse. His cock twitching against your chest as he caught sight of that big, fat diamond ring on your left hand.

"That's right, you're too dumb to fucking care aren't you? Just my dumb, personal cocksleeve. Get back to work and do better this time, if I hear so much as a slurp during the next meeting then you're going to regret it." The jerk of his wrist pulled at your hair, the sharp pain sending pleasure right to your dripping sex as his hand guided your mouth back onto his cock. Tip prodding your stained lips open to be shoved back down into your throat with an obscene gag, the saltiness and burn coming right back as he assaulted your mouth to his pleasure.

"You have five minutes until the next meeting, you better make me cum or else I'm revoking your allowance." The tip of his shoe pressed into your sex, heel digging into the flesh of your thigh as the rubber gave you the delicious friction to cum for the umpteenth time since he pushed you under there. "Make it snappy."

NSFW Alphabet - Angel Reyes.

GIF is not mine, credit to OG creator. I’m back with the resident sasshole of the MC. Here’s Angel’s alphabet. Beware: Smut beneath the cut. 

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NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

It depends. Angel is broody and his emotions wreck him daily. Sometimes, he cuddles and whispers sweet nothings in your ear, but other times, he is closed off and getting dressed before you can catch your breath. He isn’t intentionally distant, but he struggles with the noise and the constant feeling that he just isn’t good enough. 

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Angel loves his arms. He loves how they flex when they grab you tight, pulling him close to you. He takes pride in being fit and looking the part - his machismo oozing from his pores, and his arms are the product of that hard work. 

Angel is an ass man - he loves to touch and rub on you alllll the time. At club parties, his hand is glued to your hips, pulling you close and keeping you right up against his muscular frame. He loves smacking your ass - both playfully and otherwise. He loves watching it bounce against his hips as he fucks you from behind. He’s an ass man.  

C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

Angel will finish anywhere. Inside you, in your mouth, on your tits - he loves to see you covered with him. He seeks ownership and being covered in his cum definitely says ownership. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You like to sleep in Angel’s shirts. He likes to keep your panties in his cut. He doesn’t do it often, but on long runs, he has been known to slide his favorite black lace boy shorts into his pocket for nothing other than to feel closure to you. 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Angel’s charisma and charm have never left him lonely, and if he were to compete with EZ in anything and win, it would be bedding women. Adding the cut, Angel’s bed has never been empty. He loves all women and uses the experiences to meticulously work your body and shower you with affection. 

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

He’s an ass man, so doggy is his favorite. He loves the feel of your hips bouncing against his as you fuck yourself at his request. He loves holding your hands tight as he pushes you into the mattress - refusing to let up until you are crying his name. He loves feeling dominant and craves to be in control, and taking you from behind - his fingers wrapped through your hair, pulling you closer, is just the way to do it. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Angel is playful and that spills into the bedroom. He teases and taunts you with a flirtatious attitude - pushing your buttons and embarrassing you for the sake of foreplay. He loves to make you blush with dirty talk. He teases you in the most intimate moments. 

“Look, you made such a mess, querida.” He mumbles as you gush on him - coming so hard you’re dazed. He is painfully flirty and teasing, yet you melt with every mild insult and sexual suggestion. 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Angel is trimmed and neat and smells heavenly. He takes such pride in his appearance, you won’t catch him slacking. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Angel feels most alive when he’s buried inside of you, whispering how good you feel and how it’s his pussy. He thrives on sensations, both physical and emotional, and there’s nothing more intimate than watching you come undone underneath him. 

Although he loves it rough and hard, Angel will pour out the romance and make you feel like a queen. He loves soaking in a bath with you - bubbles covering you as he massages you with expert hands. He will surprise you with a road trip for dinner - flying through the desert with you holding tight, finding the perfect place to picnic and watch the sun set. Angel is a man who was made to love. 

J = Jack/Jill Off (Masturbation headcanon)

His hand will never measure up to you, but he tries - especially when he’s buried with club business. FaceTiming you late at night and listening to you get yourself off makes it easier to take care of himself. He loves listening to your moans as you try your hardest to make it feel like him. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Angel. Is. A. Whole. Daddy. 

This man will pamper you and punish you in the same breath. He gets off on dominance. He may feel like he isn’t the first choice in other areas of his life, but with you, he is the boss and there is never a doubt that he is in control. He will bend you over and spank you till you’re dripping and ask you “Do you deserve this dick, mami? You were so rude in front of my brothers. I don’t even think I should give it to you.” 

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Angel will take you anywhere, and the thought of discovery turns him on more and so does the chase. Rumor is you’ve been found in the back hallway of the clubhouse more than once, and poor EZ has walked in on you in his trailer more times than he can count. 

When you first started dating, you had so many reservations, but with Angel, you’re pulling your skirt up as he slides into you in the club bathroom while his brothers are laughing and drinking right outside the door - fully aware that you’re fucking in the bathroom. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Angel’s motivation is to be your first choice. He craves the dependency - it makes him feel valued and important. When you slide your arms around his waist and whisper how much you love him, he melts into you. The validation gets him off and even more so, when you beg for his physical attention. When you walk into the living room wearing his t-shirt and slide into his lap and ask for Daddy’s attention, he is more than happy to give in. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Angel doesn’t share. He spends his whole life dealing with an inferiority complex, and when it comes to you, he isn’t going to play around. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Angel will shamelessly beg you to ride his face. He loves when you use him for your own pleasure. With your hips rolling back and forth across his thick beard, he feels like a king. He will gladly bury himself in your thighs to remind you how much he loves you - “You’re my favorite flavor, chula. Did you know that?” 

BUT, 

Watching you sink to your knees and choke on his dick electrifies him. You may or may not be the queen of spontaneous blow jobs, and when Angel is on the receiving end is one of the moments he knows you’re the one. He will slide in and out of your throat as saliva slides down your chest and tell you how beautiful you look stuffed with his dick. 

“Can’t talk shit now, mami. You look so pretty like this.” 

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Pace is determined by location and occasion - if you’re squeezing in a quickie on his lunch break, he’s fast and rough - pulling your hips against his as he fucks you against the sink in the service office. If you’re at home and you have hours to make love, he’s thoughtful and gives you orgasm after orgasm with more than just his dick. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

If he can have you, he takes you, which means quickies are a staple in your relationship. He loves taking you in any way he can have you. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

There is no reward without a risk, and with Angel, he will lead you into temptation without asking. You’ve never been more embarrassed than when Bishop found you in the kitchen, pressed up against the fridge, as Angel buried himself in you. Angel was smug and unfazed at the presence of the president as he zipped his pants and smacked your ass - walking out of the kitchen so nonchalantly. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

You will beg for mercy as he prepares for round 4918353. Angel will go for as many rounds as you let him and each time, his goal is the same - for you to scream his name. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Angel’s toys are whatever he finds around him - his belt, a scarf, a shirt made into a blindfold. He’s spontaneous and whatever feels right in the moment is what he uses. He isn’t one to browse through Adam + Eve, but he is always okay with whatever you bring. He thinks sex should be fun and limitless. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Angel will make you beg just because he loves to hear it. He will slide into you so slowly that you are sure you will die from anticipation. He will run his thumb over your aching clit and watch you raise your hips for more. 

“What do you want? Use your words, mami.” He will whisper in your ear knowing that you can barely respond as you wiggle under him. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Angel speaks three languages - English, Spanish, and filth. He isn’t loud. He is dirty. Angel’s beautiful mouth says the dirtiest things as he fucks you in any position. He will tell you how good you feel as you clench around him. He will remind you his dick is a gift and you should be grateful. He will pull your hair and smack your ass and order you to beg for more from Daddy. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Angel didn’t sleep with women he had sex with until you. Surprisingly, literally sleeping with someone was his intimacy line - reserved for women who earned the trust of the Mayan. Sleeping leaves him vulnerable and that requires trust that a simple hang around or hook up hasn’t earned. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Angel has big. dick. energy. It’s thick, it’s veiny, and it’s all yours. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He is ready to go at any point. A stolen glance, an accidental bump into him or a sweet kiss - that’s all it takes to get him going for you. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Angel will only sleep right after if he feels comfortable and, with you, that’s every time. Club business keeps him in a perpetual state of exhaustion, and after he works you over, he is ready to sleep. 

Dabi NSFW Alphabet

Hello lovelies! I decided that whilst Rose is working on a nice, fluffy imagine about shoto, I should go ahead do his brother (pun intended) !I am starting with a nsfw alphabet since I feel like they are easier for me to do. I also need to start to fill the masterlist up with something since it is currently VERY empty.

Don’t forgot to request us here

GN Reader (mentions of getting you pregnant, though)

TW: sadomasochism, Ass-slapping, quirk play, bathroom fucking

all characters are over the age of 18

Dabi NSFW Alphabet: 🦋

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He doesn’t strike me as someone who would be THAT affectionate after sex. He seems like the type to just ask if you need a glass of water, get it for you then just fall asleep with you in his arms.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part of himself would be his hands. He loves to smack his s/o ass while slightly using his quirk so it leaves a very visible mark.

As for favorite body part of their partner, it would definitely be your mouth. He loves the little whines and moans that come from it as he pounds into you from behind. He also loves the way your lips wrap around his cock as you are on your knees for him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Doesn’t cum inside. Kinda has a branding kink and loves to see you covered in marks he has made on you, this also goes with when he cums. He loves to see it on your face, thighs, breasts, or body in general. However, if you whine and beg for him to cum inside, he will do it. No questions asked.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wants to fuck you in front of the rest of the League of Villains. He wants to see shigaraki rubbing one out while he watches you two fuck. He doesn’t plan on doing it, though. He doesn’t want anyone else to see your fucked out face while he is balls-deep in you. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s had a few hookups here and there but, apart from that, has never been romantically interested in anyone. He, surprisingly, knows what he is doing, though. Mostly, due to the fact that he has done his research. This man is active in any BDSM forum/group he can find. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position in which he can burn your ass. He needs to have access to you ass or thighs so he can put his handprint on you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious, for sure. He just kinda death glares you if you make a joke, as if to say “Really?”. If the timing is right and he has his hand on your ass, thighs, or throat, he will active his work and will make the temperature a little bit hotter or squeeze a little harder than usual to get you to shut up.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He trims it every week. He doesn’t try any weird designs or anything like that. I am a firm believer of the conspiracy theory that states that Dabi is Touya, so I will go out on a limb here and say his pubes are red. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Isn’t the romantic type. He will use you when you two fuck. No matter what. One year anniversary? He celebrates it by cumming inside you. Angry make up sex? Pulls your hair and smacks your ass. Almost goes to jail? Leaves hickeys all over your neck. fuck trying to be romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t jerk it if you are there. He treats you like his own personal slut and will call you so he can use your throat instead of masturbating. After all, why would he use his hand when he has a whore that’s willing to do anything for their owner.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Marking. Hickeys and burns all the way. He wants everyone to know that you are his. Power play. Master? yes. Sir? yes. Anything that gives him all the power and lets him use you. Humiliation. He will humiliate the shit out of you. He will spit on you, slap you on the face, take pictures of your body after being used by him, all while he calls you a pathetic slut for enjoying it.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bar Bathrooms. You two would go and get slightly tipsy. Sneaking away to the bathroom with the loud music. It’s filthy and risky. Just how Dabi likes it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He really likes it when you are submissive to him. It could be anything from you holding onto him when you get scared by a scary movie or a whine escaping from your lips while he gives you a massage. He would end up teasing you about it while he fuck you. “Fucking bitch. Trying to provoke and tease me? What a bad little girl. You need to be punished”

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

DDLG. He has a horrible bad relationship with his dad and isn’t really interested in acting like a father figure. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes receiving it. Although he loves grabbing your thighs, burning his mark into your body, as he goes down on you, but nothing beats fucking your throat as tears run down your pretty cheeks.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough, and doesn’t stop for anyone. Even if you are begging for him to stop because of the over-stimulation, he doesn’t stop.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Man, does Dabi love quickies. Whenever he goes somewhere with you, his first thought is “where can I fuck y/n?”. Once he figures it out, though, he will drag you there and fuck you, silently hoping everyone hears your pathetic pleas for his dick.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He will try anything you ask of him as long as he is still in charge and doesn’t compromise the rest of the League of Villains, so no public fucking. He doesn’t take risks when it comes to kids though. Always makes sure he either has a condom or you have had your birth control. None of that pull-out shit either.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

About 3 to 4 rounds. He wants to make sure you are completely fucked out and used before he stops. He needs to hear you beg for him to stop giving you so much pleasure before he even considers slowing down.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He has a pair of handcuffs for when he feels particularly sadistic or you have been misbehaving and getting on his nerves. Doesn’t take them off until he can see the marks of them on your wrists.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Such a fucking tease. He will groupe your ass in public and press his hard-on against you while there are people around. Will taunt you religiously, as well. “Come on, princess, you can’t take all of master’s cock...or can you? Guess you’ll have to show me.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He isn’t exactly loud. He doesn’t moan and groan. However, he teases you. saying things such as, “You’re such a whore drooling for master’s cock” and “Fucking slut. I bet you want the neighbors to hear how well you take dick.”

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

As he was getting you a coffee in the morning one day, he decided it would be fun to cum in it. So he did. He watched you drink it happily, unaware that you had consumed his semen. He didn’t even feel bad because that night, he made you swallow every drop.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Dude has big dick energy. Solid 7.5-8 inches. My guy is thick. He had to prep you for quite a bit of time before you were able to take his dick comfortably the first time. After the first couple of times he wiuldnt prep you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

You two are fucking every other day. Like, he straight up has a schedule and will pass up on important events, such as birthdays, just so he can fuck you on the day he wants.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Around 15 minutes after laying down in bed. He won’t be able to sleep if you are not in bed with him, though. He needs you in his arms. After all, you are his slut.

-Gloss🦋

Scream

hello again horny goblins, i hope you are having a good day :) <3 i love you guys hehe

Warnings- light sub kenma/ switch, mommy kink, yelling kink, slight hair tugging, kenma being a stinky bitch

Grey cubicle walls surround you as you continue to send emails to the art department. Spending years of your life in the same cycle of emails and developing games were never something you ever imagined doing but this job wasn’t that bad, right? After all, you did get paid well for being the project manager and you had some talented coworkers that made your job way easier. Being a project manager means that you have to make sure everything about how the game is being made has to run smoothly but that job was never easy with a problematic crew member like Kenma Kozume. You explain yourself to your boss and why the next deadline might be difficult to reach with a team member like that and he sighs.

“I’ll talk to him about this behavior of his but I can’t fire him.” He groans out, rubbing his temples.

“He is childish and always makes my job hard for me, I get that he’s good at his job but the way he is with me is just ridiculous.” You explain with a huff.

You leave your boss’s office with a sigh and walk over to your department before clearing your throat and announcing the new deadline. Whispers are heard between crew members,

“Ahem.” You get their attention and tell them the rest of the goals for the week.

“Why ask to push the due date back when we were doing just fine?” Kenma asks with a slight attitude.

“Because someone in our crew doesn’t know how to work in a team, Kenma Kozume.” You reply sternly without breaking eye contact making him snicker and smirk back at you.

Continuing to work after everyone leaves home, you get a cup of coffee with a yawn and walk over to your desk before seeing a light coming from another cubicle. You quickly get another cup of coffee and head over to give it to the hard worker before you see none other than Kenma. You sigh and turn around, two coffee cups in hand before he says something.

“Where are you going? I thought that coffee was for me.” he pouts.

“I got it to be nice but it’s you so I’ll just take it over to my desk.” You reply.

“Why can’t you ever be nice to me?” He tilts his head with lidded eyes and rubs the back of his neck.

“You’re an asshole.” You throw away your now finished coffee and flip him off with the newly free hand.

“I would be mad but damn, you do look good walking away.” He whispers under his breath as you walk back to your desk.

You hear him and smirk. Kenma was an asshole but you would be wrong if you said that you haven’t thought about him in the night time.

-

You leave from an early morning meeting back to your desk and find a cup of coffee there with a sticky note to the side reading, “From the asshole, 5 cubicles down.” You smile before quickly crumbling the sticky note and getting back to work. You go to sign documents before realizing that your cup of pens were gone. You storm 5 desks down knowing exactly who the culprit was.

“Are you fucking serious Kozume!” You yell getting everyone’s attention.

“You start a rumor about me, I ignore it. You steal my shit all the time, I get over it. You park in the parking spot I paid for, I move. You spill coffee on me by ‘accident’,” You air quote, “ I move the fuck on and buy new clothes!” You yell, catching him by surprise.

“Kenma Kozume I am so fucking tired of you and the way you treat me! Just give me my shit back!” You fume.

“I didn’t do anything! I did everything else but I didn’t take anything from you this time.” He explains with a worried facade.

You grab him by the collar of his shirt. “Kenma Kozume, come in contact with me again and I will step all over you.” You whisper angrily in his face.

The boss quickly pries you away from him before de-escalating the argument.

“What’s all this about?” Your boss asks worriedly.

“She says I took her stuff but I didn’t.” Kenma defends himself, binder up to his body acting as a means of protection from you.

The boss eyes you and points to his office. You sigh and make your way over.

~

The words “You're fired.” Echoed through your head as you picked up a box and headed to your car. Everyone packed up and went home after the incident except for two people. You and Kenma. You stayed to get all of your things out from your cubicle which ended up taking most of the evening considering you have worked at this establishment for a long time. You drop off the last box in your car and head over to the office to get your bag and laptop before seeing Kenma watching you from across the dimly lit office, fiddling with a toothpick. You roll your eyes and get ready to leave before realizing that you lost your keys. You pat at your pockets looking for your them, turning around in a panic to be met with a pair of dangling keys. Kenma, of course, it would be his dumb ass. You reach to grab them before they get pulled back and put into his pocket. You sigh and your eyes hover the area beside his pocket to see a bulge prominent against his suit pants. You blush and look up to his tie, not able to make eye contact.

“Give me my keys Kozume.” You demand, reaching out with a shaky hand as your eyes flicker back and forth from his chest to his mouth to his bulge.

“What’s in it for me?” He asks, purposely annoying you, playing with the toothpick in his mouth.

“Give me my shit back right now!” You yell at him sternly making his cock harden against his pants even more than before.

“O-oh..” You stutter out, face redder than before. 

“Yeah.” He says, flicking his toothpick into the trashcan under the desk. 

”I wanted to tell you about that later but it seems that you found out yourself.” He replies into the silence with a smirk.

Silence fills the room as you blink and shake your head in complete bewilderment.

“W-what the fuck.” You say wide-eyed.

Kenma leans his head to the side with a hiss and rubs his neck with one hand. “I fucking love when you do that.”

Smirking, you push Kenma back against the desk and get in his face.

“You like when I do that don’t you, you little slut.” You let marinate in the thick air.

“Yes, Mommy~” He moans leaning back over the desk, palming his length through the thin fabric.

You grab him firmly by the jaw and replace his hand with yours, rubbing at his erect member.

“Who gave you permission to do that?” You whisper in his ear, nipping at his earlobe.

“N-no one did, mommy.” He whimpers out, nails scratching the desk.

“I’m tired of you acting like that towards me, baby boy. I know you can be better.” You put one finger under his chin and he nods yes quickly.

“I can, please give me another chance~” He cries out as the grip on his cock gets tighter.

“A brat like you gets way too much attention, don't you think?” You asked rhetorically with a smirk.

“Get on your knees.” You command and he switches spots with you so he's on his knees and you are propped against the desk.

Kenma looks up at you with glossy eyes, awaiting your next move. You grab Kenma’s tie and untuck his shirt before opening it button by button while he unzips your pencil skirt and shimmies it down your curvy waist and thighs. He looks up at you with lidded eyes and you motion to your panties before he moves towards them and lifts you onto his shoulders making you yelp.

“Eager aren't we, my little slut.”

“Only for mommy~” He moans out, licking his lips at the sight before him.

He presses his tongue flat against your thin panties and lets his saliva soak the fabric. You moan and lock your fingers into his hair and tug lightly. Kenma hooks a finger along the soaked lace of your panties and moves them to the side before sucking on the sensitive nub at your center. You grind your center down onto his mouth frantically with a loud moan. Kenma sends vibrations through your core as you continue to ride his face and grind from his structured nose to his soft lips.

“You fucking love that, don’t you, my little cum slut.” You moan out.

 Unable to control yourself at the feeling you pull at his hair and he gets the signal. He pulls away, your juices covering his mouth before he lays you back onto the desk and hooks your legs over his shoulders going back in for more. He sucks at your clit vigorously before sticking two digits into your sopping pussy and moving them to the rhythm of your moans. You try to hold back your moans and be in charge but the feeling in between your legs is just too much to handle. You cum on his face, body seizing and eyes rolling back in bliss as your back arches off of the desk. Legs shaking, Kenma stands up and licks the cum off of his fingers before leaning over to kiss you while hastily taking your shirt off.

“I was supposed to be in charge.” You pout breathlessly as Kenma unzips his pants.

“Not anymore, not after that.” He disagrees with a nod of his head, focusing on lining up his member with your sopping pussy.

“Oh fuck you.” You complain, making his cock stir in excitement.

“Fuck me?” He asks pointing to himself with one hand, erect cock in the other.

“All right then, do it since you want to be in charge so bad.” He shoots back before placing his arms behind his head.

“Do it…..mommy.” He drags out with a smirk.

“Fuck yourself on my cock, mommy. I really need it.” He pouts with a sarcastic tone.

You reach down and grab his cock firmly making him hiss out in pleasure before moving him into your entrance. Your pussy stretches around his every curve and vane and settles at your spongy spot almost making you cum immediately. You start rolling your hips into his as shared moans fill the room. He runs a hand through his hair, watching as you impale yourself on his cock. Delighted by the sight of you trying your hardest he makes a rash decision and taps the bottom of your chin. You open up and Kenma sticks his middle and ring finger down your throat making you gag and your pussy grip tight onto his member. You gag around his fingers as he pokes at the back of your throat. Your center squeezes around his length is bursts as you choke on his fingers.

“Oh fuck~” Kenma groans before his cock twitches inside you.

“Don’t pull out.” You moan out multiple times being unable to think straight because of the ecstasy being shared between you two.

Your eyes roll back and your legs shake as Kenma begins to thrust against your g-spot and before you know it, there’s thick ropes of cum coating your walls. You let out a moan lewd enough to qualify as a porn star as you cum. Clear liquid squirts out onto Kenma’s abdomen and drips down to his thighs.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean t-”

Kenma looks down at his crotch excitedly and licks his lips before cutting you off.

“Don’t worry about it. Just sit on my face again.”

alone together - DAY THREE

Summary: A daily installment series of one shots on being in quarantine with Goku (special appearances made by master roshi and others!) Come back each night starting 3/18 for a new fic for the next 14 days!

AO3 LINK Rated: T+ (for now, ya nasties!) Word Count: 3.2k bc idk how to write anything short and sweet. Warnings: language, a lil inapproppro roshi, spicy thoughts, a lil fighting A/N: thanks to nikkisramblings for the idea and the inspo!! and also for always being down to talk about the world’s favorite himbo! let’s make this quarantine crisis bearable :) also. i am channeling my fave human @thegodbucky​ to try and write the best himbo there ever was to exist.my goku does NOT compare to hers but! 

vegeta: day 1 | day 2 | day 3 goku: day 1 | day 2 | day 3

PREVIOUSLY...

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re teaching you how to fight,” his voice is quieter, softer now. It almost feels a little different as his thumb brushes over your shoulder. Goku rests his chin in the crown of your hair, taking a shallow breath, “I can always use instant transmission to give ya’ a hand, but I want you to know you can take care of yourself.”

You pat him on the stomach, allowing yourself a small feel of the toned muscles there, “I’m glad I have you in my life, Goku.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Goku squeezes your shoulder and you let yourself soak in the sun and the waves, cherishing a moment of closeness like this because you’re never quite sure when it might be ripped away.

You knew that the training Goku had been putting you through would hurt, eventually. However, you didn’t expect to wake up one morning practically unable to move. You had just enough energy to force yourself through a shower and brushing your teeth before you collapsed back on the bed, still wrapped in your towel with your quilt pulled up at your waist. You’re completely out of breath, muscles tightening with each gasping part of your lips.

“Hey, you okay?”

If your body could tense in embarrassment, you would, but you can’t.

You turn your cheek against the pillow, barely able to see much more than the outline of the side of his body with your blurry vision, straining your eyes as best you can. You accept defeat and close your eyes, chewing on the inside corner of your mouth before speaking, “Goku, not all of us have Saiyan muscles. Us mere mortals can’t go from sitting on the couch to fighting a super person without a little bit of pain and fatigue.”

“Pain just means you’re doing it right!” Goku giggles, scratching the back of his neck. He takes a step towards you and you allow yourself a half-second of fear at the thought of him trying to make you spar again today.

It takes you a moment, but you bunch your hands under your chest and try to push yourself upward. Your face twists in pain as you try to look at him, and the Saiyan rushes forward, knees on the floor as his palm frames your cheek. He tilts his head, “Wow, you’re really hurtin’, huh?”

“Yes,” you grunt, face in the pillow now because you can’t bear to admit your weakness. You can’t even pay attention to the fact that you’re only in a towel, the heat of his arm against you burning like a flame. The only thought that pulses in your mind is one of hurt. Your muscles cry out as you shift around under the blanket and towel to try and be at least slightly more comfortable.

Goku pinches your cheek, a bright smile on his face, “I can give you a lil’ squeeze, if ya want! Krillin and I learned how to massage out the cramps from one another when we were training with Master Roshi when we first started learning martial arts.”

The sudden reality of the thin material keeping your bare everything from view finally settles in and a blush fights its way onto your cheeks and the tops of your ears. You licks your lips and shake your head, “N-No, Goku, it’s fi-oof.”

His stocky body is settled atop your backside, knees digging into the mattress on either side of you. Goku is heavy, oh Kami is he heavy. You struggle to keep in the sharp cries of pain at his muscled form sitting on you, weighing your body down. He means well, all he’s trying to do is help you, but wow is he currently putting you in pain. Goku is laughing but your mind is far from humored, all you can pay attention to is the way the towel shift on your body, the small knot at your side practically begging to come undone.

“This is kinda in the way,” he mumbles, thumb brushing under the lip of the fabric separating his body from yours. The scraping of his fingernail against your tender skin forces goosebumps to bloom down your arms and legs, but you convince yourself it’s just the air conditioning. Your toes curl and you try to keep yourself from arching up into him so you don’t seem like a needy animal. The last thing you need is to be closed in this tiny house with Goku knowing how you feel.

You huff, attempting to regulate your voice, “Goku, I’m not about to take off-”

“What? I’m just sayin’, if you took it off, it’d be so much easier! My hands are gonna get all stuck!”

He’s whining and it shouldn’t make your stomach flip over, but you can’t control the way your body flushes at the thought of him undressing you, or how he would feel pressed against you, bare and warm. Your skin starts to sweat at the imaginary way his hips would move and how his hands might touch you.

The base of his palms roll into your shoulders and you have to clamp your mouth shut so you don’t let out a groan at the sensation. You keep your eyes closed as his thumbs travel over your spine, gently rotating in circles as he works his way downward from the top of your neck.

“Wow,” you almost moan out the word, eyes rolling around in your head as his hands work out the kinks in your muscles. You swallow the thick lump growing in your throat and it feels like you can finally breath without being in immense pain, “You really are good at this.”

“Told ya!” Goku says. He giggles and traces over your shoulder blades before digging his palms into the muscles there.

You’re practically lulled to sleep with the motions of his handles, the push and pull of his calloused fingers and palms soothing as he works your muscles. As you sit on the cusp of consciousness, you’re just barely able to withhold the gentle noises that sit on your tongue, begging to be let out.

He must be putting you under some sort of spell because your fingers move under your body just enough to reach the knot holding the towel in place. You unhook it and tug the fabric from your torso, revealing your bare shoulders and back, the towel pooling at the juxtaposition of your body and Goku’s.

“There you go, loosen up,” he chuckles, moving himself further down your body so he can knead away at the tightened muscles of your lower back.

When his hands come in contact with a specifically knotted muscle, you can’t help it when the moan escapes your lips.

Goku freezes, palms still pressed flat against your waist. His thighs tense and that sends a jolt up your spine and right back down to your belly. You grit your teeth and dig your forehead back into your pillow out of embarrassment alone.

“D-Did I hurt you?” he asks innocently. You can even see him tilting his head in your mind, the action playing like a movie behind your closed lids.

You grunt, trying to come up with a response. All you’re able to do is bark a feeble, “No.”

Goku tests the waters with his thumbs brushing over your rib cage, eyes trying to find some part of your face to gauge your level of pain. He sighs, “W-Well, then why’d you make that sound?”

And why did I want to make you make it again?

He leaves the last part unsaid, for fear of what it means and what you might do. Goku licks his lips and leans forward, his body weight shifting you on the bed. A hand presses to the mattress on either side of your head as he balances himself.

“It felt good,” you say quietly. You clear your throat and turn so your cheek is against the pillow and you can look at him over your shoulder. He’s much closer than you expected, his nose trailing down your cheek as you shift.

You try your hardest not to think of how you two might look in a mirror at this exact moment. His pelvis is pressed against the curve of your ass, palms dug into the mattress beside either of your temples. Your face is blushing bright pink, muscles tense as you curve upward into him. The thought alone of what he could do to you like this settles a weight between your thighs, a needy heaviness clawing at your thighs.

Goku huffs, his chest expanding, “Hmm, that’s weird.”

A wash of pink colors your cheeks and you take a short breath, thankful that he’s only considering it weird and not sensual. Then again, this is Goku. You’re sure he could spend a whole day reading and watching Master Roshi’s collections of media and still not understand why the girls were so scantily clad. You lick your lips, ready to defend yourself and your actions, but Goku returns to massaging your back and you’re lost in the feel of his hands once again.

It’s as if he’s trying to get you to make obscene noises with every movement of his hands. Goku is digging into you deeper, fingers finding the perfect rhythm and sinew as he touches you. His hands are roaming now, finding every inch of your skin to try and pull those noises from your throat again. You allow yourself just a moment to wonder if he felt pleasure at the mewling that parted your lips only seconds ago.

Unfortunately, all he ends up doing is lulling you back into a dreamlike state, your eyes glazed over as you fight slumber. You yawn, getting ready to tell him you need to take a nap, but your eyes are alert as soon as Goku’s body stiffens atop your own. His nails dig into your skin and your body flushes with goosebumps.

“Ooh,” you hear the grotesque sound of saliva being sucked back into someone’s mouth and you try to hide yourself behind Goku’s broad body.

“Goku, you wanna share?” The old man holds his hands up in the air, reaching towards you with grabby hands.

A frightened squeak barely has time to echo from your mouth before a resounding slap gives way to Roshi being smacked across the room. He slams into the bookshelf that houses all of his x-rated movies and dirty magazines, a couple of them falling over his head as he tries to make out which way is up and which is down.

Roshi groans, rubbing the growing lump on his bald head, “Hey, Goku, what was that for?!”

Tears are begging to fall from your eyelids but you don’t let them; you can’t let Goku knows how things like this affect you - Master Roshi isn’t going anywhere after all. And Goku has never been one to admonish the old-timer’s perverted behavior before.

“I-I don’t know, Master Roshi,” Goku admits, looking down at his hand like it might give him the answer. His eyes drift to you, watching as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to hide away from everyone even with your body as bare as it can be.

As soon as he sees the red of your cheeks and the way your face is scrunched in humiliation, Goku’s brows furrow and he glares at Master Roshi, “But I think you need to get out of here.”

The old man is scurrying away before Goku can slap him through the wall and send him skipping across the ocean. You release the breath you’d been holding, your body sinking under the pressure. Goku brushes his thumb across your jaw, tugging you to look at him. He notices the wince you make as you try to adjust your body and he finds himself trying to think of ways to make you more comfortable.

“Hey,” he clambers off of you, knelt on the ground with a hand still against your neck, “You wan’a watch a movie? We can take a break from training today.”

All you can think of is how taking a break from training is the exact opposite of everything that Goku has ever said to you. Ever.

“That sounds good,” you say.

When you don’t move, Goku tilts his head. He reminds you of a confused animal, what with his wide eyes and general blank expression. His mouth bobs open and closed a few times before he finally speaks.

“Well, why aren’t ya’ gettin’ up?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and bite your lip, “I-It hurts.”

Goku laughs, running his palm down over your bare back. He stands to his full height, “Well, c’mon, let’s go get you dressed!”

Somehow he manages to wrap you up in the towel when he grabs you around the shoulders and the knees, holding you like a child as he carries you into the closet to get a change of clothes.

“G-Goku,” you stammer when he puts you down. You clutch the towel to cover yourself, thankful that it’s big enough to keep him from seeing anything you don’t want him to, although he doesn’t seem very worried or distracted. He’s rifling through a couple of drawers, pulling out clothes that he thinks will fit you, mumbling to himself under his breath.

“Here, I think these will work for you.” Goku holds out a paid of baggy training pants and an undershirt. They’ll both fit you loosely, but at least you’ll be covered. You really need to do laundry. The last thing you need is to marvel at yourself wearing Goku’s clothes.

You go to reach for the shirt and pants, but your shoulder muscles lock up and you wince, crying out as you crumble to your knees. Goku catches you before the other parts of your body can react, gently keeping you upright by the elbow.

“Let me help you,” he says immediately. Goku is already unrolling the shirt before you can argue. You don’t take away the towel and he doesn’t argue, pulling the head of the shirt around your neck, settling it on your shoulders.

When he turns around to pick the pants up off the ground, you quickly slot your arms through the tee and you’re thankful it covers all of your sensitive parts. Even though Goku doesn’t really understand the implications behind what he’s doing and what he’s seeing, you do, and that’s enough.

Slowly, he helps you into the pants, tying them around your waist for you when he’s done. Goku is picking you up again to walk you into the kitchen and you can’t force an argumentative word out of your mouth. You relish in the moments spent close to his body, your head rested on his chest as you attempt to ignore your aching muscles. You also love the way that he can pull you around like you’re weightless, light as a feather. It makes you feel small in all the best ways.

He hands you the remote, silently asking you to choose the show. You land on something martial-arts related, with a side of romance.

You’re nodding off against his shoulder when he pokes you in the stomach, “H-Hey, what are they doing? Fighting with their mouths? It seems kind of gross.”

“F-Fighting- what?” You rub your eyes and sit up despite your aching muscles, “Goku, what are you talking about?”

He uses his thumb and index finger to turn your jaw to the television, where the two main characters are currently making out against the wall of the dojo. You chuckle, “Oh, they’re kissing.”

“K-Kissing?! What the hell is that?”

You can’t help the peels of laughter that expand your chest. You continue to giggle despite the resistance from your body. Goku pouts in response, crossing his arms over his chest, “Hey, why’re you laughin’ at me?”

“Kissing is what people do when they like one another,” you answer him, mostly out of breath. You pat him on the thigh, resituating yourself against his torso, “You lived with Master Roshi for how long and you’ve never been introduced to kissing?”

Goku shakes his head, bottom lip still jutted out like a child. He sighs, “Roshi is weird. I didn’t really pay attention to him unless we were sparring.”

“Such a you thing to do, Go’,” you reach up to ruffle his hair, “but when you like a girl, or a guy, I guess, whatever you’re into, you kiss them! It releases endorphins and makes you feel good.”

“I like you,” Goku says plainly, his head cocked to the side as he rests his hands on your hips, “Why don’t we kiss?”

If you weren’t in so much pain, you’d choke. Your eyes bug out of your head just enough for him to notice, but you try to temper yourself before you respond.

“There is a difference between friend-like and lover-like, Goku. You have to know the difference before you decide to kiss someone.” Your voice is an octave higher, but he doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in his own confusion. His eyes travel to the upper corner of the room, fingers cupping his chin as he thinks. You can practically see the gears turning.

“O-Oh,” he finally sighs, relaxing back into the couch.

Goku’s hands rest against your best, fingertips gently finding all those muscles he worked earlier, “I guess that makes sense.”

Your body relaxes into his hold when you realize the conversation is finished. You curl your arms around his waist as he settles further into the cushions, eyes completely captivated by the kissing couple on the screen as if he were memorizing their movements.

The drifting of his fingers over your body only serves to put you to sleep. Goku looks down to ask you another question, but giggles when he sees your pursed lips drooling just a little onto his gi. He brushes his thumb over your brow, the rest of his hand threading into your hairline.

Goku is focused on you, the way your body moves, falling further into him, and he wonders if this is what people mean when their spouses are built for them. He’s never given much thought to anything other than how to grow stronger, how to beat the next best guy...but, here, in this moment, you’re the only thing on his mind.

Spending an immense amount of time with you over the past couple of days has left him waiting, expecting, to have you in his life daily. He wakes up to train and the first thought he has is to wake you up to do morning push ups or jog around the shoreline.

The thing that breaks him out of his hypnosis is the very thing that lulled him under - you.

Except this time, you’re saying his name.

At first, he thinks you might be in pain; maybe your muscles are tightening again. So he starts to rub your body with the heels of his palms, working at alleviating some of the tension so you can sleep better.

However, as soon as he begins to massage your muscles, your whining intensifies. Goku removes his hands like he’s burnt you, eyes wide as he tries to understand what’s going on. He tilts his head to better hear you, tiny whimpers parting your lips as you shift around in his lap.

He leans up and the action jolts you awake, a bright red tint on your cheeks. Goku giggles, rubbing the back of his neck, “Mornin’!”

You lick your lips and try to tense your legs to keep his knee from sliding between your thighs, concealing your desire. You force a smile, “It’s afternoon, silly.”

“Yeah, I know,” he trails off, looking away from you. It takes him a moment, but he looks you in the eyes and you feel your soul sucked from your body as soon as he utters the words: “So, why were you moanin’ my name in your sleep?”

--

a/n: MWUAHAHAHAH!

tag list: @thegodbucky​ @vegetaslilboots​ @lokipea​ @nubiadethemyscira​ @dbzteam​ @hi-jess-is-here​ @brieffs​ @thotful-writing​ @vegetandbulmaism​ @dragonballwritingandnonsense​ @gokus-wife-and-lover​ @judasbeast​ @vegeebs​ @bonkers-4-hatter​ @cxddlyash​ @scenariosofcapsulecorp​ @cahira-the-golden-ejderhalar​

hot yoga

a/n: this is one of my favorite things to write, idk why. i just love roommate slash best friend h, i guess. anyways, he walks in on you masturbating and basically loses his goddamn mind over the course of one (1) week. bon appetit!

warnings: smuttyyyyy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 

w/c: 3.9k

***

THURSDAY

Harry didn't really take Y/N to be the type to masturbate during the day.

Not that he necessarily thought of his roommate masturbating at all. It's just... so risky for his normally tame best friend. So imagine the shock on his face when he came home early from work to hear her softly moaning in her room.

Honestly, at first, he thought she had a guy over. Of course, that didn't really explain why he still nosed in anyways. The two of them were quite close, but not close enough to openly talk about their sex lives. Harry assumed it was because she didn't date much and, out of respect, decided to keep his mouth shut about his own goings-on.

So maybe, then, it was out of disbelief that she would actually be getting anythat he slowly trudged up the stairs to her room in their shared house. As he approached her door, her noises got clearer and he could even hear her gasping for air.

Christ, he thought to himself. Who could be that good? Her door was cracked open just a bit, enough for Harry to peer through the gap and see her in bed... minus anyone else.

She laid in bed in her underwear, and he could see she'd tossed her clothes onto the floor haphazardly. One hand dipped into her panties and he could clearly see that she had her fingers deep inside herself. The other was poking into her bra and pulling at her nipples for more stimulation. In between her continued soft noises, Harry could even hear how wet she was.

It was in this exact moment Harry realized what he was doing. Why was he peeping on his roommate and best friend? Why was it so hard to tear his eyes away? Why was his cock fattening in his pants? Why, pray tell, was he still watching?!

He stumbled back a bit, trying to stay quiet, but the floorboard creaked. The door wasn't wide enough for her to see anything outside, but he figured his cover was blown since she suddenly silenced.

Nevertheless, he creeped back downstairs soundlessly, made himself a cup of tea, and decided to take the best route he could think of—pretend he didn't see any of that. Easy.

He hoped.

About twenty minutes later, when his dick was behaving again and he’d cleaned out his tea mug, Y/N hopped downstairs wearing the clothes he'd just seen thrown on the floor.

She acted mildly surprised to see him, making a note of his early arrival home. "We finished up our work for the day and the manager gave us the rest of the day off. Figured I'd come home and have a cuppa," he explained, not looking at her but rather lying on the couch and flipping through channels.

She nodded, hands on her hips and arms pointed back like a chicken. "Good idea. Think I'll go make one m'self," Y/N decided, awkwardly stumbling to the kitchen.

This time, Harry peeked a glimpse at her. He saw that her cheeks were a bit pink, and he was painfully reminded of what she was just doing. His filthy mind started to wander and he thought about if she was a full-body blusher. Did her chest brighten up a bit when--

Stop, he urged himself, rubbing his face with his whole hand. What was wrong with him?

Just pretend it didn’t happen, remember? He’ll be fine!

***

SATURDAY

Harry hated the summer.

The man was just not a heat-adapted person. He claimed it was because of his English roots that his body was naturally made for cold weather. Living out in LA made his career and social life much easier, yet the summer months were hell on his body.

He spent this toasty day on the couch with the A/C turned up high and a small fan in his hand while he read in the living room. Y/N read with him, neither of them saying a word to each other. They'd managed to talk a little since, ahem, the incident, but the conversations weren't very lengthy.

Suddenly, Y/N stood up and placed her Sherlock Holmes novel on the arm of her chair, bending the book's spine. She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a green Otterpop. Without saying anything, Y/N picked her book back up and continued reading, enjoying the popsicle.

Harry didn't show it but he’d completely lost interest in his own book; his focus was on her now. She hollowed her cheeks around the treat, audibly sucking out the melting juice. Her lips were so pretty perched around the ice, colored pink by the temperature. He would've thought she was doing it on purpose had she not been so entranced by her reading material; it was like he wasn't even in the room at all. If he kept staring at her, he’d have a full blown hard-on any minute now.

"Can yeh stop?" he blurted, making her head snap up confusedly. He backtracked immediately, realizing he had no reason to say that. It was his fault for being a perv, she was just eating a damn popsicle! "I, uh, I want one and I'm jealous. Do we have any left?"

She nodded with innocent wide eyes, the popsicle still dangling out of her mouth held up only by her teeth. It was a stupid save and she probably saw right through it, but he was glad for the free exit and went to get his own, though he didn’t stop by the living room on his way upstairs.

***

MONDAY

The beginning of the next week had weather that was muchmore bearable, and it'd appeared the heat wave had broken. Harry had no time to appreciate it though, as he had a long and productive day at the studio to end his not-so-relaxing weekend. By the time he got home, the house was empty. He didn’t question this; Y/N tended to be the spontaneous type and could be out with one of her friends.

He busied himself with cooking a small bachelor dinner. After he’d finished his meal and the post-eating doze was just about to lull him to sleep in the living room, the sound of keys in the front door’s lock jerked him awake.

Harry sat up straighter on the couch, waiting until his roommate was safely inside. “Hey, H!” she called. She was only wearing a black sports bra and a pair of peach leggings. Over the course of living with her, Harry had noticed that Y/N’s body tended to soak up sun in these warmer months, evident by her glowy skin covered in a sheen of sweat.

“Where have yeh been?” he questioned, not bothering with a greeting. He knew his eyes were begging to dart all over her smooth, gleaming body, but he tried his damn best to be subtle.

She snickered, tossing her bag on the love seat across from him. “Good evening to you, too. Valerie and I went to hot yoga.” Y/N dug through her duffel to get her marbled Hydroflask out.

“Hot yoga? What’s tha’?” he muttered, raising an eyebrow and resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

“It’s just regular yoga but it’s in a room at 100-something degrees and 40% humidity,” she explained, opening her water bottle and taking a swig. Big droplets leaked out of the sides of her mouth and trailed down her jaw and neck to join the sweat on her skin.

He rolled his eyes, pinching his bottom lip. He was trying not to bite it and figured he’d attempt to be more inconspicuous. “I don’t speak American, how hot is that?”

“It’s hot. And humid,” she huffed. “But it relaxes your muscles so much and makes all your joints pop. It felt so good.” Her eyes fluttered shut and she stretched an arm across her torso, pressing her boobs together. Harry’s mouth popped open and immediately shut. “Actually, there’s one move I want to show you. How’s your back feeling?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Well…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “Laying down on this couch isn’t the most comfortable, t’be honest.”

“Great!” Y/N grabbed H’s hand and guided him down to the floor. She hovered behind him as he sat with his legs extended. “Lift this knee,” she ordered, lightly tapping his right thigh.

He obeyed, extremely glad that his pants were thick black sweats. Her chest was brushing against his shoulders as she showed him what to do, and everywhere she touched him felt like it was on fire. He could only think about dead puppies to calm himself for so long.

“Cross it over the other knee, like you’re in a chair.” It was phrased like she was telling him what to do, but she still grabbed at him to move him into the desired position. She might have been a bit rough on him, though, and nearly crushed his family jewels between his legs.

“Whoa, easy, love,” he groaned, stopping her from man-handling him any further. “Some of us are a bit more delicate down there.” Y/N giggled, and Harry carefully crossed his leg over while remaining painfully conscious of her presence behind him.

“Now take your left elbow and put it on your lifted knee to twist as far as you can. Your back will sound like someone shuffling a deck of cards.” She put two hands on his shoulders to help him with the motion, and she was right. The stretch sent relief flooding through Harry’s body and the noises he made were borderline pornographic. “Feels good, hmm?” she purred into his ear.

He nodded, reveling in the feeling of her breath ghosting over his skin. “Try the other side,” she suggested, standing up and drinking more water.

“You should try going to hot yoga sometime,” she offered as he fully stretched out his spine, grabbing her bag and heading upstairs. “I’m gonna shower real quick. Do me a favor and pour me a rum and Coke?” she called behind her, not bothering to see if he agreed or not.

And Harry would be damned if he didn’t check out her ass in the leggings before getting up to make her a drink.

***

TUESDAY

Some nights are, in general, rougher than others in H's life, and this was one of those nights.

It wasn’t that the day was a complete disaster, it’s just that the studio had kept him much later than he'd anticipated. He was a very tenacious guy, but two long days in a row was just a bit much on his end. As he drove home, all he could think about was pouring himself a glass of MacMurray pinot and having an unwise later-evening nap. He sloppily dug his key into the lock and kicked his shoes off the second he was inside.

As he wandered through the halls of his house, he yanked out his headphones to reveal his roommate's voice coming from the kitchen. Given that it wasn't accompanied by another voice, he assumed she was on the phone.

Sure enough, he poked his head into the kitchen to see Y/N with her phone cradled between her shoulder and her cheek. She was making dinner while talking and didn't appear to notice Harry had arrived. He should’ve made his presence known given how this situation usually ended up, but he remained silent.

"You're lucky you have so many hoes, Val," Y/N noted, checking on boiling noodles and stirring them with a purple spoon. "If I'm trying to get fucked, I don't exactly have a lot of options."

At her words, he ducked out of the kitchen and hid in the hallway. Harry could chastise himself for being nosy later—he had to hear this conversation. There was some silence as Val responded before Y/N continued.

"I mean, dating for-real at this age sucks, and one night stands aren't what they used to be. All the attractive guys are cuffed up so now the only people prowling the bar scene are ugly or shit in bed." The two of them laughed. "And there's only so much my own hand can do," they giggled again before dissolving into a conversation about Val's new dog (how fast they were able to switch topics is beyond his grasp).

Harry took this as a chance to go back upstairs and pretend he never even heard that. Jeez—how many times will he have to remind himself that was the plan? How many times was this going to happen before it stuck? What was with him and barging in on Y/N during intimate moments and conversations?!

***

Harry woke up in the middle of the night with lips pressed against his neck.

At first, he couldn’t tell exactly whose lips were on him, but could tell it was some attractive female and decided to let it continue. He loved when girls spent a lot of time on his neck but didn’t give him love bites. He was so sensitive on his throat and chest that any kissing or sucking would leave him like putty in anyone’s hands. Harry decided to not question this and enjoy the lovely treatment.

The mystery girl did all the things he loved—she brought a hand up to rake through his sweaty curls, the other forced two fingers into his mouth to get them wet, and her kisses left wet patches all over his taut skin. The fingers between his lips dropped down, presumably to touch herself.

Finally, Harry needed to see who was doing all this to him. He lightly tugged the girl off by her hair, only to make eye contact with none other than his roommate Y/N.

“Y/N?!” he blurted. He was in utter shock—not only was he hard as a rock, but one of his closest friends is bare naked in front of him and trying to make out with his neck.

“Don’t think about it, love,” she purred, mocking his accent. Y/N tossed a leg over his body and grinded down onto his cock, kept separate by his boxers and the sheets on his bed. He could practically feel the heat coming off of her, if only it wasn’t for the barriers between them. In fact, the sheets seemed so tight around his legs.

Harry was suddenly washed over with anxiety and thrashed around, struggling to kick the sheets off his legs. Y/N stared at him like he was a maniac, which only made him panic more. Why wouldn’t the sheets come off his legs? Why wasn’t she helping him? Why was it suddenly so hot in there?

Harry woke up with his cock straining up against his stomach, forehead covered in sweat and bedsheets tangled around his feet just like in his dream. You know, the dream where he was about to have sex with Y/N.

He was grossed out when he thought about it, even though he had no control over his dreams. How could he be actually thinking about his totally platonic, totally innocent roommate like that? It almost felt dirtier dreaming about her than it did watching her touch herself. One of them was just a goofy accident and the other was rooted in some sub-conscious desire to bury himself in someone who probably trusted and respected him as a co-habitor.

God, did he need a therapist?

***

WEDNESDAY

“I’m thinking Chinese for lunch,” Y/N announced as Harry came into the living room.

He groaned. “The last time we had that, they messed up every part of our order. Can’t I have some time to heal?”

She lazily flipped through the last pages of the magazine in her hands. “It’s been six weeks, Harry. You have to give them another chance sometime.”

“You’re not the one who got duck in their order last time!” He indignantly crossed his arms. “Let’s just order in pizza.”

“Fine,” she sighed. Y/N pointed across the room to her phone on the TV mantle. “Go ahead and call that place down the street. I’m going to get some water.” She tossed the Cosmopolitanon the coffee table and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Harry with her phone. Alone.

It wasn't that Harry was a distrusting person, necessarily, he was just a bit nosy. He stared at the keypad in the phone app, switching over to the recent calls tab as quickly as he could. Most of them were pretty normal—her mum, Harry himself, her job, and so on… But what really confused Harry was the fact that the most recent phone call she’d made to Valerie was over two weeks ago.

Wait. He’d just heard her chatting with Val about her sex life yesterday. There’s no reason for her to have deleted the call so… it must have never happened.

Y/N had been playing him the whole time. His mind felt like it was short circuiting. He truly had thought he’d gone mad! She knew exactly what she was doing, at least ever since the popsicle incident. He wasn't sure if he should be mad or super turned on, but he was sure that she couldn't get away with this.

“Everything alright, Haz?” she asked, coming back into the living room with a sweating glass of ice water in her hand.

He scrambled to switch back to the keypad, hastily punching in the number to the shop and bringing the phone to his ear. “Yeah, m’fine! What’d you want on yours, again?”

***

THURSDAY

The next morning, Harry sat at the breakfast table, reading the paper and minding his business. A tiny rumble from his stomach made him consider eating something, since his tea wasn’t doing much for him. His thoughts were interrupted when Y/N joined him in the kitchen.

She fluttered in wearing only a t-shirt. It was a black band shirt that was long enough to cover her ass, but Harry still peered over his newspaper, wondering what kind of game she was going to play now.

The answer to that was metaphorically shoved in his face when Y/N got on her tip toes to reach a bowl on a high shelf; the hem of the shirt lifted as her arms did, exposing her panties. Harry couldn’t believe his eyes at first, but after a few seconds of shamelessly staring he realized they were the exact same pair she'd been wearing when he peeped her touching herself last Thursday.

They were silky and light pink, not covering her whole ass but not quite a thong. The fabric really framed her flatteringly and Harry felt an urge to grab her ass and maybe smack it, even more than he’d been wanting to earlier throughout the week.

Fed up, he scraped his chair back and threw down the paper. He marched over to her as she whirled around wearing that fake confused-and-innocent look she'd been rocking all week. Harry was quite done, however, and pressed her up against the counter, his semi-hard cock digging against her hip.

"Why are yeh doin' this to me, love?" he whispered, breath ghosting over the shell of her ear.

Her knees buckled, but she stayed standing thanks to H trapping her between his warm body and the counter. "I d-don't know what you mean."

Harry laughed dryly, grabbing her wrists and forcing them behind her, getting them even closer together. "That's enough of that, minx. Y’know you've been driving me mad all week just to get a rise out o’me." He smirked as his eyes dragged across her face.

She swallowed, trying not to break eye contact with this intimidating man. All she could do was nod.

His eyes darkened and he dropped his head down to her neck, brushing over the skin with his lips. "I want to hear you say it, pet," he growled. "Say you've been teasing me all week because you wanted my attention."

Her jaw dropped as he started sucking marks into her soft skin. "I teased you all week - oh God there - because I wanted your attention. Wanted you to fuck me."

Harry groaned at this, one fist coming up to yank at her hair. "Yeh think y’deserve that? You've been a real menace ‘n you shouldn’t get off that easy,” he demanded, grinding his cock into her hips. "You think you should get my cock inside your sweet cunt?”

“Yes!” she groaned out, knowing a nod wouldn’t suffice. The corner of his mouth tugged up once more, and he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, carrying her up to her bedroom.

He set her down on the bed and joined her, crawling on his knees. “There’s a move I wanna show you,” he started, yanking his t-shirt off from the back of his neck. “Here’s what you’re gonna do, pet,” he ordered. “You’re gonna lie on your back and you’re gonna touch yourself.”

Her brows furrowed and she sat up on her elbows timidly. “Huh?”

“You heard me,” he barked, voice low. “Don’t act shy now, I saw how you make yourself feel.”

She nodded, pulling her shirt off her body. She laid back down and timidly pulled aside her underwear to expose her cunt to Harry. His own palm dug into the front of his trousers as she warmed herself up, rubbing circles around the sensitive spot on her clit.

“Wish it was,” she breathed, “wish it was your fingers. They’re so much – uh– bigger.” Y/N was one to put on a show and Harry was eating it up. Her fingers dipped inside herself and came out glistening wet, and he finally pulled out his cock from his trousers to start stroking himself. Neither one of them were really giving any thought to how insane masturbating with your best friend was—all they could think about was how long both of them have waited to do this.

Harry caught her eyeing his cock slicking in his palm. “Wanna get your mouth on me?” Her doe eyes met his, and she confidently nodded. “Stay still then,” he commanded, “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

So she continued fingering herself and Harry climbed over her and straddled just below her shoulders, so his cock was right at her mouth. She obediently stuck her tongue out and he slapped the head on it a couple times, eliciting a groan from his mouth. Y/N latched her mouth around him and sucked like she did on that damn popsicle. H grabbed a fistful of her hair as the moans from her self-inflicted pleasure rang through his cock into his body.

The more she touched herself, the more she moaned, and Harry was starting to lose it. Her fingers worked herself over as the heel of her palm slid over her clit. She came on her own fingers, just like she did by herself awhile back, and arched her back below him as her orgasm rippled throughout her.

“Can I come on your face, pretty girl?” he begged, and she politely nodded, having trouble catching her breath with a dick in her mouth. He pulled out and painted her face with thick ropes of white cum, body shaking as the pleasure washed over him. “Fuck, pet, you’re killin’ me.”

Once they’d caught their breath, Y/N got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a new t-shirt on and a clean face. Harry had since put his boxers back on, and she joined him on the bed. He was the first to speak.

“So… do you wanna go to hot yoga now?”

Smoothie-senpai

Commission done for @saijordison! Thank you SO much for this I had so much fun. Finally some Ukai x Takeda content!! Delinquent/Nerd Omegaverse AU and it’s sfw ^^ Enjoy! Read on AO3

~

Ukai noticed because it smelled like fruit. Citrusy and vibrant but still soft and sweet. And it was strong enough to cut through the thick smell of smoke.

People moved out of his way easily enough, Ukai led by his nose, all the way down the hallway of third years, despite being a second year himself. An omega with large glasses was laughing, books clutched close to his chest as if they were some precious part of his body or something.

Lame.

Well, not like Ukai cared. He just wanted a better taste of that smell. Without giving much attention to anything else, he walked right past the group of people, dropping his nose to the omega’s collar.

Yup. Definitely fruit. Like a smoothie. Maybe mixed with a hint of—

Someone screamed, which was annoying, and the smoothie-omega started trembling under him, eyes fogging up behind his glasses. That was also sort of annoying.

“Ex—Excuse me—”

Typical omega. They always spoke so soft. Without thinking, Ukai grabbed for his arm, “C’mere a second—”

Having this many people around was a nuisance. Ukai figured it’d be better if he could sniff the omega at his own leisure. The classroom at the end of the hall was always empty, so he dragged the smoothie-senpai down that way, ignoring his friend’s comments about his rut starting soon.

It wasn’t that.

This omega just smelled really sweet.

“U-Ukai-kun—um I don’t—I don’t have any money—a-and either way my wallet is in the classroom—”

“Would ya shut up?” He tugged at the collar of the omega’s gakuran for easier access, sticking his nose in and taking a large inhale.

Fuck. That could get addicting. Because it wasn’t just the fruity citrus coming through. There was something else—something even sweeter, like a fruit that’s at peak ripeness just before going bad. Sickeningly sweet and almost disgustingly strong.

“U-Um—”

“Hey,” Ukai inhaled again, resisting the urge to lick, “are you in heat or something?”

“N-No—”

The scent changed, the sweet overpowering the citrus, and when Ukai looked down, the growing bulge in the omega’s pants confirmed his suspicions.

“Heh,” he smirked, “you sure you’re not in heat?”

“Please—Please excuse me—!”

With surprising force he was pushed off, Ukai left with his ass on the ground while the omega bolted out of the classroom. What a weird guy.

Even weirder that Ukai had been distracted enough to stumble back. A feeble push like that usually wouldn’t be anywhere near enough for him to lose his footing.

He stepped out, watching the omega stumble through the halls and back into classroom 3-A. Figured. With those glasses and books it wasn’t like the omega could be anything other than a huge nerd.

…

Takeda Ittetsu bolted out of the empty classroom, pulling at the collar of his shirt and trying to calm the flush of his cheeks. Ukai Keishin was notorious for skipping class, talking back to teachers, and worst of all, smoking. Rumor had it he was the heir to some sort of yakuza clan, what with his bleached hair and multiple piercings.

All in all, he was the last alpha Takeda wanted to get involved with. If it was just money then that was one thing but—Ukai had smelled him. Put his nose right up against Takeda’s scent glands, as if something like that wasn’t the most intimate thing on the face of the planet.

He was sure he wasn’t in heat. He’d taken his suppressants properly and, even if he hadn’t, his heat was still a good month away. Takeda had been pretty regular all his life. There was no reason for Ukai to suddenly call out to him like that. No reason for Takeda to have reacted like that. But it wasn’t his fault! To have an alpha nuzzling his scent glands—that was just an instinctual reaction, wasn’t it? That was the first time anyone other than his family had gotten so close without the intention of platonic scenting. Takeda had scented with his friends of course, to form loose pack bonds, but Ukai hadn’t approached him like that. He came in like an alpha on the hunt, inhaling so much that for a moment Takeda thought the alpha might just bare his fangs.

His body shivered, the omega trying to get a hold of himself. No use letting his imagination run away from him. This was Ukai Keishin he was dealing with.

And being the delinquent that Ukai was—maybe this was some sort of prank?

Takeda’s racing heart calmed. Yes, that had to be it. That was all it was. Just some stupid prank that Ukai and all of his friends were probably laughing about right now. Because other than volleyball and his current pack of cigarettes, the alpha didn’t have an interest in anything. So Takeda had nothing to worry about.

At least he thought, until the alpha cornered him after class, pinning him to the wall like something out of a movie.

A crowd had gathered, because for one, Ukai was probably the only one who could get away with a kabedon that wasn’t ironic in the least, and two, there was no real reason, for a second year to be in the third year classroom.

“Um, Ukai-kun,” Takeda tried again, “I need to get home. If there’s something—”

“Ya, I’ve got volleyball in a bit,” he grabbed Takeda by the cheeks, squishing them together. “This’s been bothering me all day.”

“Wh—”

“Hold still.”

Not that Takeda could have moved even if he wanted to, Ukai’s scent alone enough to pin him to the wall, even without the alpha’s iron grip on his face.

His first kiss smelled strongly of cigarette smoke. Ukai closed his eyes when he leaned in. Pulled away with a bit of a grimace, and Takeda knew because his eyes were blown wide the whole time.

“Oy, the fuck—open your mouth—”

“I—” he shouldn’t have said anything—really shouldn’t have said anything, because that brief moment alone was enough time for Ukai to stick his tongue in, to probe around the inside of Takeda’s mouth without a single ounce of permission. This was bad. He couldn’t breathe. What was he going to do if he couldn’t breathe?

“Wai—” he whined, trying to push against the alpha, managing enough to break away, coughing and gasping for air.

Ukai finally let him go with a perplexed expression, crinkling his features and rubbing his chin, “That doesn’t make sense…”

“What are you—”

The silence between them was broken by another group of second years popping their head into the classroom, “Oy Ukai! Captain's gonna kill you!”

“I’m going!” He shot another glance down at Takeda, frowning, “Wait for me.”

“I can’t—”

“See ya!”

He took off with his friends, leaving Takeda to slide down the wall. This sort of thing couldn’t be good for his heart. With Ukai gone, everyone was staring at him, and before any of them could think to ask him any questions, Takeda took off again, racing down the stairs and bolting towards his shoe locker.

Of course he wasn’t going to stay and wait for Ukai. Certainly not until after volleyball practice was over, when the school would be mostly empty and there’d be no one there to stop the second year in case things got…

His mind thought back to the kiss, and Takeda shivered, clenching his thighs together.

Maybe he was going into heat.

He left the school on trembling legs, clutching the strap of his bag. If this was a prank then it was horribly done. He’d never so much as made eye contact with the alpha, he didn’t see why he had to be the brunt of him and his friend’s jokes. To go around kissing people without any sort of consent…

It was rude at best. Not to mention making such an absurd request as asking him to wait for him after school. The audacity of such a thing! It was probably that same attitude that got him on the volleyball team, Takeda figured, because he’d never really heard of a smoking delinquent being on a sports team before. The alpha was a walking contradiction.

But again, none of that had anything to do with Takeda. So he pushed up his glasses, taking in a deep breath to fill his resolve. If Ukai tried to talk to him again then Takeda was going to put him in his place.

“Oy, Smoothie-senpai.”

Takeda screamed, and if he’d been holding anything he most definitely would’ve dropped it, tripping over his own feet and nearly falling to the floor. He would have, if Ukai hadn’t grabbed him by the arm. Takeda adjusted his glasses, ripping his arm free, “What’re—What’re you doing—?!”

“I figured you wouldn’t wait,” the alpha crossed his arms accusingly, and Takeda shrunk back.

“Don’t you have practice? I really need to get home—”

“I skipped. Leg cramp, or whatever—”

“Ukai-kun,” Takeda inhaled, closing his eyes, “whatever sort of trick, or whatever punishment game you lost—”

“You talk a lot. It’s sorta annoying.”

Ukai leaned in again, as boldly as the first time, Takeda popping his mouth open as if in habit. But the moment he realized what he was doing, he pushed Ukai away, standing on all but trembling legs.

“W-What are you doing? You can’t just kiss people out of the blue—”

“I don’t get it,” Ukai scratched his head, “you smell so good but the taste isn’t there.”

Takeda could have died. He knew delinquents were sort of…dumb, but Ukai had such a blank stare on his face that it was almost comical. Not that Takeda could have laughed at the current moment, though. “That’s not my problem! Please stop kissing me!”

“Well you explain how someone can smell like a berry smoothie but not taste the same!”

Heart pounding in his chest, Takeda closed his eyes, trying to come to terms with the absurdity of it all. “It’s probably all the cigarettes you smoke! How should I know! Please stop bothering me—”

The alpha’s eyes lit up, grabbing Takeda by the arm, “That’s probably it! Hey, Smoothie-senpai—”

“My name is Takeda—”

“Please let me be the only one who gets to smell you.”

The omega froze. He was pretty sure Ukai wasn’t using any sort of pheromones on him, but even so his knees were about to give. That was a confession, wasn’t it?

Scenting and scent marking—that was something only couples did. But Ukai was his kouhai. One he didn’t even know all that well. And despite his good looks Takeda wasn’t sure he wanted to dive head first into a relationship with someone who was rumored yakuza.

But then again, this was the first time anyone had ever felt the need to confess to him. If those were Ukai’s true feelings then Takeda felt he needed to respect at least that much. To either agree or deny him in the heat of the moment would be irresponsible at best.

He gripped at his bag, struggling to fill his lungs and blurting out his response, “Um, please let me think about it!”

He wasn’t sure why he yelled, but Ukai didn’t seem too bothered by it. Either way the alpha agreed, which was a relief, because more than anything else Takeda really needed some time to process everything that had happened.

And if worse came to worse, Takeda could always just reject him.

…

Ukai made himself impossible to ignore. Because the rest of the week Takeda was watched, the alpha’s presence absolutely everywhere, no matter where Takeda seemed to go. At lunch, on the way home, during lessons—he’d even managed to lock eyes with the alpha, while Ukai was playing soccer in the field below Takeda’s classroom.

And if Takeda was being fully honest…he didn’t hate it. Omegas were primed to be drawn to alphas, so maybe it was just instinct, but he was getting used to seeing the alpha’s face.

And…also…Ukai-kun didn’t smell too bad himself either.

Takeda could blush just at the thought of it. Because wasn’t scent the absolute most important when it came to relationships and compatibility? If he liked Ukai-kun’s scent, and Ukai-kun most certainly preferred his then…didn’t it stand to reason that they should date?

Oh god. He was going to agree to this, wasn’t he? To an alpha that was his kouhai no less. To an alpha that skipped classes, and smoked, and dyed his hair.

But…it was fine. Because love had no limits, or whatever that phrase was supposed to be. Takeda was pretty sure he wasn’t exactly what Ukai had ever expected either.

Opposites were supposed to attract, right?

Mind made up, the moment classes ended Takeda raced down to the second year’s hallway, so that he could catch Ukai before the alpha had to go to practice.

“Ukai-kun!” he caught the streak of blonde, raising his hand so that the alpha could see him in the crowd.

“Smoothie-senpai!”

It took all of two seconds for Ukai to reach him, pulling so hard that Takeda’s feet practically floated over the floor until he was caught in a warm embrace that was Ukai in its entirety. Though he’d gotten rather flustered, Takeda pushed through it, wanting to give Ukai a proper reply.

“About what you said before…I’ve thought about it.”

“And?”

“And it’s fine,” Takeda blushed, losing his courage and dropping his gaze to the ground, “I…I like Ukai-kun’s scent too.”

“Yes!” Ukai made a fist, cheering to himself, "I fucking knew it! Meet me tomorrow at lunch, okay?”

“O-Okay,” Takeda nodded, sort of smiling but blushing more than anything else, because seeing such an excited reaction from the alpha had his heart beating like crazy. “Should we exchange contacts?”

“Oh,” Ukai made a face, but then shrugged, “sure if you want. What’s your Line?” he was reaching into his pocket, digging for his phone, and Takeda reached into his bag to do the same.

Finally, in his third year of high school, Takeda Ittetsu got himself a boyfriend.

…

Having a boyfriend was embarrassing. That was all Takeda could really take away from his two weeks of being in a relationship with Ukai-kun. The alpha was rather forward at best, and Takeda found himself struggling to keep up with the alpha’s advances.  

For example, every day at lunch, Ukai would have Takeda sit on his lap, so that the alpha could bury his nose in Takeda’s scent glands. Takeda didn’t mind, because in all honesty it felt really good to have an alpha so close, to be given so much attention. It was especially embarrassing when his body reacted in that way, Ukai always teasing him for being in heat.

Moments like those Takeda was glad they had the roof to themselves. That was one of the perks of dating a rumored yakuza. No one questioned him when he told them to get the fuck out. But Ukai was also interestingly shy, because he hadn’t tried to kiss him since, nor had they really gotten to scent marking.

Ukai seemed content with just…smelling. Which was fine of course, Takeda didn’t really have any issue with it, but he was starting to find himself craving the alpha’s lips again.

Especially during times like these, when Takeda was struggling to eat his bento, Ukai nuzzling into his neck. It made him want to spend even more time with Ukai, than just these handful of minutes at lunch. And they’d been together for all of two weeks so…it was time for a proper date, wasn’t it?

Ukai gave a long sigh behind him, murmuring against Takeda’s skin, “As I thought, Takeda-senpai’s scent really is the best.”

Goosebumps rose all over Takeda’s arms, his ears heating up, “Don’t say such embarrassing things so easily.”

“It’s true though.”

Takeda smiled, pushing his rice around, running through his question in his head before saying it out loud. “Um, so, I was thinking. Maybe this weekend we could go out and watch a movie? Or maybe shopping…you know to get to know each other a bit more.”

Ukai pulled away, cocking his head with a bit of a frown, “Why?”

Why? Ukai really liked teasing him, didn’t he?

“Y-You know,” Takeda stuttered, embarrassed beyond belief that he had to say the words out loud, “like a date.”

Ukai continued to stare at him, the creases around his eyes sharpening, “A date? Who?”

Now it was Takeda’s turn to frown, not sure what the alpha meant, “…us?”

“Since when are we dating?”

Takeda’s heart slowed, heavy and pounding in his ears. Was that supposed to be a joke?

“What’re you—?” he tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace, “U-Ukai-kun that’s not funny…” he couldn’t finish his sentence, not when Ukai was looking at him with such a blank expression, eyes far gone.

Were they not dating?

Ukai still hadn’t said anything. And if he were joking, he definitely would have said something by now. But that didn’t make any sense. Because if they weren’t dating, then what was that confession supposed to be? Their lunch dates and…

Takeda grabbed for his bento box, pushing himself off the alpha’s lap to kick his legs and run. He didn’t care where. Just knew that he had to get away. Would be damned if Ukai saw him cry now of all times because he’d really honestly thought—

What a joke. As if someone like Ukai would actually like him. What had he thought, that this handsome alpha would actually be attracted to him, with his giant glasses and stupid curly hair and his—

It was just his scent. And even that hadn’t been enough.

It was probably the first time in his entire life Takeda ever skipped classes, but it didn’t matter. Not today. Right now, he just needed some time to himself, to sort out his feelings and be miserable.

He ended up at the park by the school. He’d always loved the trees there, and given the fact that he’d run, not being anything even remotely close to an athlete, his legs collapsed beneath the shade.

Logically, he knew he couldn’t blame Ukai-kun. This had been a misunderstanding all on his own. But that didn’t stop it from hurting. After all it’d been the very first time anyone had ever—and the alpha had even kissed him so, naturally, Takeda had thought—

Actually, no. He could and he would blame Ukai-kun. Because kissing someone like that—and claiming to love their scent—that was hopelessly misleading. Anyone else would have thought—would have seen that as a confession. Takeda had done nothing wrong.

He had to take his glasses off, to wipe away the tears. He cleaned them off with his shirt, sniffling and digging around his bag for his tissues.

This was the worst.

In fact, he had just thought that it couldn’t get any worse, until Ukai showed up beside him, panting and resting his hands on his knees.

Takeda stood up in shock, clutching his bag to his chest, “Ukai-kun?! What’re you doing here?”

“You just left—”

“You’re not supposed to follow! How’d you even find me—”

“Your scent—”

Takeda threw his bento box out of sheer frustration, Ukai dodging it easily.

“Is that all you care about?? My scent?”

“Look, I’m—”

“You know you really shouldn’t just—k-kiss people—I know it was mostly my misunderstanding but you also—y-you also—”

Damn it. The last thing he wanted was for Ukai to see him cry. He was pathetic enough as it was. To have the alpha see him cry—

Ukai didn’t, mostly because he brought Takeda to his chest, squeezing so tight Takeda thought his glasses might snap.

“I’m sorry,” the alpha breathed, holding him close, and those words were whispered so softly, with such genuine feeling, that no matter how hard Takeda tried he ended up bursting into tears anyway.

“Ukai-kun you big idiot! You absolute—idiot!”

“I kinda get that a lot—”

“Are you hugging me right now because of my scent too? B-Because if you are—”

“No,” the alpha squeezed, “your scent right now…I hate it.”

Takeda burst into tears all over again, hiccuping and gasping on sobs, “So you don’t even like my scent now—”

“No that’s—! Goddamnit!” Ukai grabbed him by the shoulders, separating them just enough so that he could bring Takeda back in with a kiss, calming pheromones bursting around the alpha, surrounding Takeda in a warm embrace that matched the alpha’s soothing tongue. Ukai pushed up Takeda’s glasses, wiping the tears away with his thumb. “You reek of salt. That’s why I hate it. So stop crying, okay?”

Takeda sniffled, silently nodding his head. “Sorry,” he cleared his throat, clutching at the front of Ukai’s shirt, sort of scared the alpha might leave, “for causing a scene, I mean.”

“Do you, um,” Ukai rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Takeda’s gaze, “do you want us to date, or something?”

Takeda dropped his hold, lowering his head and tugging at his own fingers, “No. Sorry. I just jumped to conclusions on my own.”

This time Ukai cleared his throat, “I wouldn’t mind…if we did…or whatever.”

Head snapping up, and pink dusting his cheeks, Takeda swallowed, “Um…s-something like that—I don’t…you don’t have to feel pressured, or anything”

Ukai snorted, and he brought his fist up to his mouth, trying to stop his laughter. Takeda frowned.

“What?”

“No it’s just,” he laughed openly, “it’s just kind of funny. As if you could pressure me to do anything. I just like you because I like you.”

His heart was hammering now. But he’d jumped to conclusions last time, and he wasn’t about to get into this same mess again. “What—” he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer, but he balled up his fists at his side, licking his lip, “What kind of like?”

Ukai leaned in, cupping his chin and giving him a soft kiss, “This kind of like.”

Gratitude (Michael Langdon X Reader) Part 2

this is some nasty ass shit right here. femdoms, get ya popcorn ready, bc... ohhhh boy😈😈 this takes place a while after gratitude part 1, when michael goes to the hawthorne school!

plot: michael langdon, boy wonder, has newfound confidence and power after going away to the hawthorne school. that doesn’t mean that he’s exempt from discipline, though, and it looks like he’s in need of some.

warnings: sub!michael, fem!reader, pegging, face fucking(w/ a strap on), anal fingering lmao, degradation, dirty talk, spanking

word count: 4k 

“You know, Michael,” you said, your hands traveling up his dress shirt as you slid each button into its hold, “as much as I hate not having you around, it’s partly worth it just to see you in this outfit.”

He chuckled, straightening his neck for you as you tied the thin black ribbon into a neat bow and folded his collar down. “You like it?” he asked hopefully, widening his eyes half-seriously.

“Are you kidding? I love it,” you said, reaching up to adjust his hair so it framed his face the way he liked.

You hadn’t seen Michael since he’d gone away to the Hawthorne school a month ago; you were beyond proud of him for being as skilled as he was, but it had gotten so lonely no longer having your blond-haired boyfriend at an arm’s length from you. Being here with him now, you felt whole. He was your other half, and it killed you to be away from him.

“Though, I have to say, it’d probably look a lot better on the floor,” you said, your voice lowering as you slid your hands across his waist and pulled him close to you. You looked up at him, craning your neck to whisper into his ear: “Have you been a good boy this past month?”

He nodded, cheeks flushing. He’d changed drastically from the shy, sweet boy he’d once been, but certain things about him had remained the same. Even though he was powerful now and confident in his demeanor, he still loved nothing more than to be completely under your control. 

“Good,” you whispered, enjoying the way his breath hitched in response to your close proximity. “Then I’ll have to reward you later.”

There was a flurry of noise from behind his bedroom door, followed by the sound of someone’s knuckles impatiently rapping against it. “Langdon, dude, come on. We’re all going to get dinner now.”

He looked in the direction of the noise, a disinterested look on his face. “Go on,” you said. “I’ll meet you there. I’m not finished getting ready yet.”

“I’d rather stay here with you,” he mumbled, pressing his lips against your jaw. There was more knocking at the door, which you both did not react to.

“I’m gonna be a while. I was driving all day to come see you, I look a mess.” You put your finger up to his mouth, preventing him from offering the obligatory No, you don’t that boyfriends were expected to give. “I already ate dinner. I’m just gonna come down to say hi to your friends.”

He nodded, kissing you softly before turning to the door. “Be right out,” he called.

“His girlfriend is visiting him,” came a second muffled voice. “His dick is probably being sucked as we speak.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, and he cleared his throat. “I can hear you, you know.”

There was a chorus of laughter from the group of boys behind the door, and you rolled your eyes. “Go on, have fun,” you said, pushing him lightly in the direction of the door. He looked over his shoulder at you with a grin, and then he was off. You shook your head, listening to the boisterous voices of his friends, almost feeling like a disapproving mother dropping her son off with his bad-influence friends. This is normal, you thought, albeit sadly, unable to shake the inkling of worry you harbored that he’d forget about you.

Of course he wouldn’t forget about you. He loved you. He owned you, even, just as much as you owned him. You took in a breath and sat down on the side of his bed, rummaging through your makeup bag. It’d been so much easier when it had only been the two of you, but you had to let him experience his life. He needed it. He deserved it, more than anyone else.

But still, you worried.

//

“Dude, is that from your girlfriend? That shit’s fuckin’ humongous,” you heard a faceless warlock say as you walked through the dining hall. From a few other boys came a murmur of agreement, and you wondered what they were talking about as you scanned the tables for Michael.

You heard a cocky-sounding laugh, and a familiar one at that. All at once, you realized what was going on: Michael was sitting with his back to you, but you could tell he was tilting his head to one side in order to show off the reddish-purple welt on his neck while his friends stared in awe. “Oh, this? Well, yeah. I mean, she couldn’t keep her hands off me. You know how needy girls can get.”

You stopped in your tracks. Fucking idiot, you thought, folding your arms in front of you in wait of what else he might say. “Damn. She must have been really going at it,” laughed a dark-haired boy, leaning in to get a better look at the mark.

Michael shrugged nonchalantly, and from the bit of his profile you could see, you could tell there was a smirk on his lips. “I had to tell her, you know, ‘my friends and I wanna get dinner, and we’ll have plenty of time later to-‘“

You decided this was the perfect time to interrupt, approaching behind Michael and placing your hands on his shoulders, demanding the attention of the entire group.

“Are you guys talking about that mark on Michael’s neck? Yeah, it’s pretty crazy. He was really curious about seeing what he’d look like with straight hair, so he borrowed my straightener and accidentally burnt the shit out of himself.” You weren’t even lying, either, which made him all the more pathetic for gloating to his friends.

Michael looked up at you with a close-mouthed grin, and you were satisfied to see the panic behind his pale eyes. “There you are, baby,” he said, his voice cracking nervously. “I was wondering what was taking so long. Guys, this is (y/n).”

One warlock snorted, his eyes traveling back and forth between you and Michael as he regarded your expressions. “So, like, did you actually get that mark from a hair straightener?”

Michael’s shoulders slumped, your hands still perched on them, and you gave him a hard squeeze. You didn’t need to see his face to know that he was burning up. Good, you thought. He should be fucking embarrassed. “What else would it be from?” you said brightly, staring down the warlock who sat next to Michael until he scooted over.

You slid in next to your boyfriend, immediately gripping his thigh beneath the table; your nails sank into his skin through his dress pants, causing him to wince. “Sorry,” you said, leaning an elbows on the table and settling your chin on your palm. “I just couldn’t keep my hands off you, I guess.”

The look he gave you showed you enough; he knew he was fucked. And soon enough, he would be- you could guarantee that.

//

“What the fuck was that about?” you demanded, not bothering to wait for Michael to shut his bedroom door behind him. He looked at you sheepishly, hands in his pockets.

“I’m sorry, (y/n). I just- you know how guys are, right? I just want them to like me.”

“Save it,” you snapped, reaching for your bag which sat on his bed. “Get on your fucking knees. You wanna use your mouth so bad? Then I’ll make sure you do.”

He sank to his knees immediately, pulling off his jacket and discarding it behind him, an eager smirk on his lips as he looked up at you. “Is this supposed to be a punishment? You know how much I love to taste you.”

You laughed humorlessly, taking his chin in your hand and harshly turning it upwards. “Oh, believe me, Michael. You aren’t tasting me tonight.”

Before he could respond, you took your bag into the bathroom, leaving him kneeling on the wood. You hadn’t planned to punish him tonight, but his behavior certainly warranted it. As pissed off as you were at him for having been so completely idiotic, the thought of having him beg and plead excited you, to say the least. You rummaged through your bag in search of the surprise you’d brought for Michael, your underwear dampening in anticipation.

When you found your strap-on, you smiled deviously to yourself. You’d used it on Michael before, but he didn’t know that you’d brought it with you to visit him, and you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when you presented it before him. Hiking up your skirt and pulling off your underwear, you put it on, running your fingertips along the length. 

You always felt sort of powerful when you wore it, especially when you had Michael on his knees in front of you. You pulled your skirt back down and walked back into Michael’s room, finding him in the same spot you’d left him.

You looked at him and scoffed; he was noticeably hard through his expensive pants, his lips parted and eager. Slowly you made your way over to him, stopping once your crotch was in front of his face. Then you grabbed a fist full of golden curls and yanked his head back to look at you, drawing a soft yelp from his mouth.

“Open your mouth,” you ordered, and immediately he did as he was told. “And keep your hands on your knees. You don’t get to touch me.”

He watched as you pulled up your skirt, hands fidgeting restlessly over his thighs as you revealed the thick length of the strap-on. His eyes widened, but you didn’t allow him to question you- you forced the fake cock into his mouth, making him gag, your fists tightly grasping his hair.  

He let out a strangled choking sound as you forced it to the back of his throat, your grip tight enough to keep him in place. “What do you think your little warlock friends would think if they saw this, huh? Their strong boy wonder choking on his girlfriend’s fake cock.”

He moaned, and you knew he was loving this. You pulled his head back and thrusted your hips forward, finding a steady rhythm to fuck his face. Even though you weren’t being touched, you almost moaned yourself, just by witnessing Michael in this state of submission. “You think they’d still think you were a big man if they saw this? Huh?”

You tugged his hair and he shook his head as best he could, saliva dribbling down his chin and onto the front of his shirt. He’d balled his fists up over his legs, struggling not to reach out and touch you, but you refrained from praising him- he didn’t deserve it. 

“You’re taking my cock so well,” you mumbled, licking your lips at the vulgar noises coming from your boyfriend’s throat. Glancing down, you could see that his eyes were shut as he immersed himself in the degrading act. “Look at me,” you demanded, and his eyes snapped open, darkened with lust.

“You want me to fuck you?” you asked him, slowing down the thrusts to watch him slide his head up and down the length. He nodded, and you pulled the cock out of his mouth, watching him for a moment as he gasped for air. His lips were swollen and red, eyes heavy-lidded, and you reached down to stroke his jaw. He looked beautiful like this, all disheveled and lustful and used. 

“Get up,” you said, and he jumped to his feet, using the back of his sleeve to wipe away the spit on his mouth. “What do you say?” you brushed his hair out of his face before cupping it.

“Thank you,” he said, eyelashes fluttering shyly. You could see by the way his cheeks had flushed that he was thoroughly humiliated, but knowing Michael, it probably had made him rock hard.

“Take your clothes off and get on the bed,” you told him simply, folding your arms in front of you as you waited for him to strip. You watched him undress, mouth watering when he pulled down his boxers to expose his hardened length, leaking with precum; as much as you wanted to feel it inside you, or wrap your lips around the flushed tip, you’d have to ignore it- this was a punishment, after all.

He crawled onto the bed and laid on his stomach, his rounded ass on display for you as he looked over his shoulder and shot you a coy grin. You responded with a cold stare, before returning to your bag and retrieving a bottle of lube, which of course was essential for times like this.

You climbed onto the bed after him, parting his legs so you were behind him, the tip of your strap-on poking at his ass. He wiggled a bit, and you placed your palm on his lower back to keep him still. Then you put down the lube next to him and reached forward to spread his ass cheeks, fingernails digging into his soft flesh.

He whined, and you landed a smack on his cheek hard enough to leave a palm-shaped mark. You moved one hand downwards and ran your fingertips lightly over his entrance, causing him to shiver, porcelain skin dotted over with goosebumps. “Do your friends know you like to get fucked in the ass?” you asked him, circling your fingers around his hole teasingly. “That you like having your hole filled up while you get fucked into the mattress?”

He squirmed, and you slapped him again, the sound of your hand connecting with his skin crisp and loud. “Answer me, Michael.”

“N-no, they don’t know,” he whispered, and you brought two fingers to your lips, sucking them noisily.

“And why not? You had no problem lying to them about how desperate I was to suck on your neck,” you said calmly, dipping your wet fingers just barely inside him. He groaned and you stopped, tracing your fingers along his spine with mock-tenderness.

“B-because it’s- it’s embarrassing,” he said, his voice cracking. You pushed your fingers further inside him, reveling in how impossibly tight he was. You hadn’t fucked him like this in a while, so you knew you’d have to prep him with extra care tonight.

“But you love it so much,” you said, now knuckle deep inside him, and he rolled his hips back needily against you. “Even right now. You’re so desperate for me to push my fingers all the way in you, reach that spot that drives you crazy. Isn’t that right?”

He nodded frantically, his curls bouncing as he mumbled something incomprehensible. “So why would you be embarrassed?” you asked, spreading apart your fingers slightly to stretch him as you slid them deeper.

“B-because,” he let out a shaky sob as you completely filled him, parting your fingers further now and pumping them slowly.

“Because you don’t want them to know their manly supreme-to-be is really a needy little boy who wants to be fucked like a bitch?” The words were biting, lingering on the back of your tongue after they came out; you’d feel guilty if you didn’t already know how hard they were making him.

He only groaned, your pace increasing slowly but surely as you fucked him with your fingers. He was so tight, it almost worried you that your fingers would soon be replaced with a reasonably large dick, but you knew he could handle it. He loved the discomfort, the pain, and the way it melted seamlessly into the pleasure. He arched his back, rolling his ass against your hand to try and feel as much of you as possible. “Stay still,” you warned, and he returned his hips to rest against the mattress.

“Tell me how bad you wanna be fucked,” you said, twisting a strand of his hair from the nape of his neck around your free hand. “Beg for it like the bitch you are.”

He moaned at your words, his voice dropping an octave as your fingers thrusted down inside him harshly. You tugged his hair, bringing his head up off the pillow so you could hear his pleading clearly; this was the part that always excited you the most.

“P-please,” he said, raspy and raw. He balled up his fists around his sheets, a dip forming on his lower back as he lifted his ass up towards you. “I n-need it. Please.”

You hummed, scissoring your fingers apart for a third time in order to get him ready for what was to come. “I don’t think you deserve it.”

“Please, I’ll be a good boy, I promise,” he croaked, and you let go of his hair, sending his face plummeting back into the pillows and staining them with his tears.

“I don’t know, Michael,” you said pensively, holding him down while you increased the speed of your rhythm; he was crying now, muscular shoulders shaking, and for a moment you genuinely wondered what his friends would make of a scene like this. “You told me earlier that you were a good boy, but that was a lie.”

“(Y/n),” he begged, and abruptly you pulled your fingers out of him. You reached for the lube, unable to draw this out any longer. You hadn’t had him under you like this in so long.

“You don’t deserve this,” you said, squirting some of the clear substance into your palm and stroking it along your plastic member. You rubbed the rest around his entrance, which you could tell was already sore from the way he winced against your touch. “But I’m going to give it to you, only because you’re so fucking desperate for it.”

He panted as you rubbed the tip of the cock against his entrance, eliciting some sort of garbled noise from the back of his throat. He held up his hips for you, and you eased the member inside of him, going slowly to start out. You held onto his side firmly with one hand, the other traveling between the valleys of muscle and bone on either side of his spine. It took everything inside of you not to start fucking him senseless, but god, he looked fucking irresistible right now, face down and ass up all for you.

Pushing your hips down with moderate force, he let out a strangled scream as you slid deep inside him all at once, the lube having made the penetration far easier. His body twitched when the head of the cock brushed against his innermost spot, his knuckles turning white as they tightened and twisted around the sheets. You placed your other hand on his opposite side, grunting slightly as you pushed inside him, watching his ass clench greedily around the member. 

“H-harder,” he choked out, and you steadied your hips to a halt. You contemplated for a moment before landing your palm against his ass cheek, hard. 

“Quiet, unless I tell you otherwise,” you said, jerking your hips back a few inches and thrusting back inside him. He collapsed against the bed, no longer able to support his hips in the air, his body shaking pitifully. 

“Fuck,” he said, and you slapped him again, his skin hot and soft against your hand. His mind clearly wasn’t fully present at the moment, though, because seconds later, he followed up with another “harder”. 

“What did I just tell you?” you hissed, not expecting a reply; he was too far gone at this point to be obedient. You pulled him back against the cock roughly with each forward thrust, his body practically writhing as you fucked him. You could probably cum from the sight of Michael alone; it aroused you beyond belief to fuck him into a sobbing mess all while he begged for more.

“You take my cock so well,” you murmured for the second time that evening, and it was true; he hadn’t been fucked like this in so long, and yet he took it so graciously despite the discomfort he was likely experiencing. He bucked his ass backwards to meet your thrusts, and you couldn’t find it in you to scold him. 

Your thrusts weren’t too fast, but they were forceful, and with each push of your hips pressing him against the mattress, his whimpers grew louder and louder. Getting a good hold on him with one hand, you reached your other one to hold onto his curls, grunting as you increased your speed.

“P-please,” he breathed, and from the bit of his face you could see, it was apparent that his skin was streaked with dried tears. You smirked, entering him fully before grinding against his ass, making sure he felt every inch. He shivered, feeling the head of your strap-on push against his prostate, and you rocked yourself forward to apply further pressure. 

“Tell me how pathetic you are for lying to your friends,” you said, using his hair to lift him up further so you could hear him speak.

“I’m pathetic, s-so pathetic,” he cried, and you administered another hard, ruthless thrust into him. “God, harder.”

“I’m already fucking you hard, and you want more?” you said mockingly, complying to his requests and pounding into him so aggressively, you almost lost your balance. “You’re a greedy little boy, begging me to be fucked when you know you don’t deserve it.”

“It- it feels so- so- fuck.” You adjusted your position so your thrusts were angled downwards, a sure fire way of hitting the spot that would make him cum. You knew that after the way he’d behaved, he shouldn’t be allowed to, but it would be another level of cruel to leave him like this- you were nowhere near a saint, but some things were too much, even for you. 

“Who do you belong to?” you demanded, releasing his hair and letting him drop face-first into the pillow with a soft thud. He sniffled, turning his head to the side, squirming below you restlessly.

“Y-you, (y/n), I b-belong to- fuck,” he stuttered, and you began to fuck him sloppily, focusing on getting him to his climax, a bead of sweat traveling down your forehead as your heart raced from your vigorous movements. At this point, he was probably in some degree of pain as you pushed inside his tight hole, but you knew he craved it. His body was near limp below you, worn out from being used, and he could hardly manage to let out more than a few soft, shaky moans.

Your chest pressed against his back, which was glistening from the sweat coating every inch of his skin. You didn’t care; you loved it, loved how weak you made him. Jutting yourself down further, you felt him contract and shake; you bounced your hips slightly, keeping the cock in the same spot, knowing that this would cause him to unravel, melt into a puddle beneath you. 

He gasped, and that was it- you wished you could see his face as he came, witness his heavy-lidded blue eyes flutter shut as his perfect lips parted in ecstasy. But this was enough. Listening to his little sighs, too fatigued for anything stronger. 

He tensed, and then he shook almost violently, and then he was almost motionless, save for his heaving back. You kissed his shoulder, pulling the strap-on out of him slowly, so as not to hurt him. Gently you rolled him onto his back, running your fingers over his cheeks and wiping away the tears. He looked up at you with a dazed expression, opening his mouth as if he wanted to speak, but no words came out.

“I love you, Michael,” you told him truthfully, stroking his moist, disheveled hair. “But don’t pull that stupid shit again.” 

He tilted his head upwards, just barely enough to show you that he was nodding in agreement, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. You pulled yourself off the bed, removing the strap-on from under your skirt as you began to undress and change into your pajamas. You considered lying down next to him and making yourself cum, but you were exhausted from the session and knew Michael repay you later on anyways.

Pulling on your sweatpants, you heard Michael roll onto his side. “(Y/n)?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

It was genuine, whole-hearted. 

You smiled.

Slave to Pleasure [32]

(Gif not mine credit to the original owner) A/N: Yo, I’m sorry for the lack of Baekhyun gifs but he’s in this chapter I promise. Content Warning: Use of sexual toys and disease.

“What are you thinking about?” Yixing had been distant, his fingers were a less nimble and gentle than she had grown used to. His face was stony and when he tried to smile, it didn’t reach his eyes as it usually did. As he plaited her hair she watched his scowl in the mirror opposite her with worry. “Nothing you should worry about.” He tied the end of her hair and she noticed how it brushed against the middle of her spine. She barely remembered what her hair was like the day she arrived. “I want to know. “ She turned her head to follow him when he moved from behind her. Yixing stood and looked down at her, his soft cherry eyes not quite looking at her, his mind, his thoughts were elsewhere. “Don’t worry about it.” He softly caressed her cheek, leaving her before she could press much further. The touch lingered on her cheek, the feather light fingers somehow enhancing her gut feeling that something was off with her caretaker - he would usually take her to the library. Her gaze moved from the door and to her reflection in the mirror, and to the collar. Every time she thought she was used to her new piece of clothing, the harshness of it was always a surprise. Although she was no longer confined to her bed it still filled her with apprehension and curiosity. She ran her fingers over the thick rich leather and to the metal hoops one of which held her mother’s pink opal. She jolted, her hand falling to her lap as the door handle jiggled. She stood quickly, heart in her throat, the sun was still up, she had hours before Baekhyun came to her, who-- The tall vampire she had heard so much about yet was still a stranger to her now stood in her room. Closing the door behind him. His crimson eyes gave nothing away as he stared her down. He was intimidatingly handsome, his sharp features were overwhelming and she waited with baited breath for him to speak. “I’m assuming you remember me.” The way he uttered the words were blunt - more of a statement than a question It made her feel better, knowing his name, so she didn’t seem dim so she could also state not question. “You’re Yifan.” He had his arms around his back, his shoulders wide and his stance relaxed yet still powerful. The distance between them was wide but even then his height was looming. “I know you’re scared of me. But you’ll be seeing a lot of me from now on.” He started to move, his footsteps seemed to be calculated and she stood, her knees tucked tightly to her stool. He came towards her with slow but sure steps his eyes directly in front of him even as he spoke. “If I was Baekhyun, I’d have spanked you for not being on your knees when I walked in.” Her heart climbed to her throat, beginning to hammer hard in her chest as he spoke. She clutched her hands together in front of her, her knuckles turning white. What’s he doing here? He circled around her, still keeping a fair distance. She hated how his supernatural hearing allowed him to hear the sound of her anxiety, he made it evident by the acute amused smirk that adorned his face. She took a calming breath; do I kneel now? Yifan turned to face her. “But I’m not Baekhyun so I can’t spank you, not as long as I want to keep my arms.” She dared say he was making a joke though he didn’t smile and neither did she find it funny. It could have been an over exaggeration yet she wouldn’t say Baekhyun wasn’t incapable of such brutality. Yifan sat on the bottom of her bed, his arms slung over his thighs, his posture at ease and it somehow soothed her frantic heart. “The whore house you were from tell me about it.” The way he articulated his words it was a command. She shrank back to her stool, feeling sated that he was sitting, not looking so threatening anymore. She swallowed thickly before taking a dive into her past. “Horrific.” Yifan remained silent, his expression patient as he waited for her to continue. She sighed and looked off into the distance as she spoke again. “Old… Dirty… Loud… Why - Why do you want to know?” Yifan hesitated before replying. “It was the brothel my mother owned when I was growing up. When she died it became mine.” “It’s not still yours?” She asked boldly. “Yes it is mine.” Still hesitant. “But I’ve only recently got it back in my possession.” “Did you begin work there willingly?” This time he asked a question. “Yes… I-I had no other option.” Yifan looked thoughtful. “Were the girls treated well?” She remembered the bruises, the screams and the babies. There was the owner who insisted on trying out the new recruits whether they were willing or otherwise. He would use brute force some times to make sure the whores he hired would willingly carry out deeds of him as well as his customers - even the pregnant ones weren’t spared from a beating when he deemed fit. He didn’t care what customers did to the working girls as long as they paid well and he got all the money the girls earned. Many with children couldn’t even afford old rags to wrap their unwanted children in. Some newborns didn’t even make it through the night from the cold and neglect. To that day she could still hear the words that made her wish she hadn’t signed her life away that night ; Watch yourself, the last girl who had this room just died from syphilis. “No.” It wasn’t something that could have been argued with. “We weren’t treated like anything.” “The rats were treated better… The traps that killed them were quick… They escaped from his cruelty, we couldn’t.” There was silence in the room and Yifan’s eyes were downcast and his expression thoughtful. She longed to know what he was thinking, she wanted to know what he was doing in her room, why he was talking to her, why someone who seemed to hold himself at such high esteem would be talking to a mortal like her. “Have you heard of the blackswans?” Yifan finally broke the silence. “Yixing explained them to me.” “Then you should also know that they are no more, wiped out by vampire hunters.” She nodded with blind understanding and Yifan continued. “The man that owned that place, I killed him. I ripped his head off, ripped his arms away from his body because he betrayed information to our enemies. Later I found out that betrayal ran in the family - he’s of blackswan blood but it was his ancestors that began to hunt vampires. That fact made it easier to kill him.” Her mind began to reel with the information and she was lulled into silence as Yifan’s tone became more sinister. “He was a human who had forgot that he was at the bottom of the food chain, that to us, he’s an ant to be stepped on.” Yifan stood and she tensed in her stool. He made his way towards her and she held her breath. “Men like him - humans - like him make me glad to be what I am.” He was getting closer. “And I promise you, kitten, in this house, men like him will never harm you again.” He ran his hand down her face, his long fingers reaching into her hair to run down her neat braid. She craned her neck to look at him, breathing shallowly with nerves at his proximity and touch. Yet she didn’t feel scared, she felt anything but frightened in that moment. She struggled to form words for a few seconds, mesmerised by his words and his promise that made her feel safe. “W-What about men like you?” Yifan’s face softened into a smile. “Men like me don’t hurt whores, if you were under my command the bruises I inflict would bring you pleasure, not pain, that I can say. Baekhyun has hurt you with hatred for himself but I will say from now on, he will hurt you with love.” He let go of her braid and it fell back on her shoulder. He began to head for the door. “And if he doesn’t spank you with love then just come and find me.” The door closed and she was engulfed in a pleasant silence. She had never thought she would ever smile in the wake of Wu Yifan. She fiddled with her braid and smiled. All she had seen from Yifan was stoicness and stubbornness, she had never have thought she’d have had the courage to bravely sit through a conversation with him especially one that ended with a promise of her safety and implied protection from Baekhyun’s wrath - although she wasn’t sure she’d be needing it anymore, but she was thankful to know that there was another vampire on her side. She allowed his words to play in her head, his words about pleasure and pain. The bruises of pleasure. She had had many bruises both of pleasure and many of pain. Her thoughts drifted to the whips and the chains and her leash she had been without for quite some time. Her eyes wandered to the cabinet, it wasn’t ever locked but she had never thought about looking inside while she had been off her leash. Until now. Tentatively she walked towards it and with the same hesitation she opened the fine wooden doors. There was a slight rattle as she opened it and chains that hung from the door rattled and one fell to the floor with a clash. She looked down and couldn’t help but grin bashfully at the sight of her leash at her feet. She looked back at the red velvet cabinet and a shiver cascaded down her spine with the sight of whips and feathery appendages that lined the cabinet’s back wall. A few she recognised, especially the flogger which had left detailed thin red marks on her skin for days. The riding crop too. Chains hung from hooks on the inside of the cabinet doors, one Baekhyun had used to restrain her arms above her head while she stood and dealt with her punishment. There were two small drawers at the bottom and she bent down to open it. Plugs, vibrators and toys of all varieties greeted her when she opened the drawer. She flushed and closed the drawer in an instant reaching for the second one with battered nerves. Her body was reacting in all sorts of ways, her stomach was mixing in a cocktail of curiosity, apprehension and excitement. In the second drawer she found an assortment of instruments. Some looked like small belts which were strange and alien to her as they had holes or balls in the middle of the leather straps. Some neatly knotted rope and ribbon but what caught her attention was a small chain that on either end finished with small clasps. She reached for it gingerly and even with a closer inspection there was no telling as to what it was or what it was used for. “Those...  Are nipple clamps.” In fright she yelped and dropped the chain. She whirled around to face her ‘attacker’ and it was Baekhyun, grinning from ear to ear. She felt her face grow hot. “I didn’t hear you come in.” She also wasn’t expecting him until sunset. “I’m glad you didn’t, it was fun watching you.” He replied with mischief. She fumbled for words finding herself at a loss with what to say or where to begin. It became even more difficult when Baekhyun crouched to pick up the chain he called nipple clamps and raised them back to eye level. “H-How do they… What do you do with them?” She stuttered. Baekhyun raised his eyebrows and with both his thumb and forefingers he pinched the clamps at the opposite ends, opening them. “Isn’t it obvious?” She knew if her face got any hotter it would implode with heat. “Does it hurt?” “Let’s find out.” A second later her dressing gown was pooled at her feet and her naked flesh was exposed to him. The rapid rising and falling of her open chest gave away her tension and uncertainty as Baekhyun pinched the clamps onto her hardening nipples. Oh. She sucked in a breath at the pinching sensation that shot up her body, it twinged with slight satisfaction that she felt in her stomach. With a glint in his eye Baekhyun tugged lightly at the chain that was attached to her chest in the most lewd form. Her back arched instinctively and her breasts twinged with slight pleasure that elicited a gasp from her mouth.   “Does it hurt?” Baekhyun tilted his head, sly and smug as he tightened his hold on the chain. Her legs went weak and it took all strength in her not to kneen to the floor as the pull on her nipples grew and the pleasurable sensation made her toes curl. “N-n-no…” She breathed out in a sigh of content. “Good.” With that the pull ceased and the chain dangled from her nipples. Baekhyun picked up her gown from the floor and wrapped it round her. “You can keep them on until tonight… You take them off, I’ll know, you leave them on I’ll reward you, how’s that?” The slight pinching she felt heightened all of her senses and she found it hard to concentrate when she was in the library for the rest of the afternoon, she longed to take them off after Baekhyun left her to her own devices but she couldn’t bring herself to even touch them now that they were attached to her, it felt too dirty but not in a way that made her uncomfortable. The promise of a reward was what kept her on edge for the rest of the day. What could it be?

Sweet Creature

Chapter One: I like you

author: Admin Jazzi

word count: 2.3k

warning: implied smut; fluff

 She  stood out to Youngjae in the little piano shop he met her in. It wasn’t just your beauty. It wasn’t that she made much noise. It wasn’t even that she was foreign with dark skin that reminded him of Calla Lillies; but he found himself staring at her fingers as they gracefully played a tune on the baby grand piano that was positioned in the corner of the store. Watching her hands move was soothing, and the music was so sweet. For a moment he stared at her and embraced the sweet sight.

He slowly walked towards her, his hands slightly shaking as he approached. He was nervous. She made him nervous; in a good way.

She had a level of beauty he could explain. He didn’t know if it was for her music or her beauty in which he was falling for.

He gently tapped her shoulder and the music stopped immediately. She turned around her smile was breathtaking. He choked on his words instantly.

“I-Umm…” he stuttered out nervously. He played with his fingers trying to get himself together.

“You play beautifully” he tried to say in English.

His heart stop when she answered him in Korean.

“thank you, but I still need to work on it.” She said, politely bowing her head.

He stared at her for a moment before catching himself.

“My name is Youngjae.” He said, trying to blurt anything out to hide that he was staring at her.

She smiled, slowly offering her hand to him. “I’m y/N” she said with a gentle smile.

She could tell he was a bit nervous. He seemed like a shy boy; but he had a cute charm and he was very handsome.

He gently took her hand, his heart racing like crazy.

“I could teach you how to play it.” She offered.

“You’d do that?” He asked excitedly. He had to admit a part of him thought she would say she was kidding and walk away.

She seemed too good to be true.

She stood up slowing, gathering her things. His face immediately dropped. “

he thought to himself while watched her get her things in a panic.

“We can go to my studio down the street. There’s a bigger piano, it will be easier to teach you on.” she looked at him. He agreed, hesitant from the shock. Her kindness seemed too good to be true. When he approached he was just wanting to tell her that her playing was beautiful.

He just wanted to give her that compliment, he got nervous when she turned around; but he just wanted to tell her the piece she was playing was beautiful.

He was excited that it wasn’t the end of their encounter. He didn’t know how many times the thought, “she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” , ran through his mind.

He followed along side her as she lead the way down the busy street.

She stood at the same height as youngjae. Her body spelled curvy to the last letter; thick thighs, and a bottom and chest that he scolded himself for looking at. Her hair was in a beautiful afro, with bouncy curls. She smelled like vanilla and honey. She was radiant.he barely knew her but she made him feel warm. He didn’t know how far this would go; but he liked her at first sight.

He let out a giggle when he thought about how strange it was to like someone that quickly.

She looked  at him with a gentle smile.

“You’re a little strange, youngjae” she giggled. He blushed, with a slight chuckle in response. Her smile made him speechless.

“W-why are you in seoul?” he asked her.

“I’m studying dance at seoul university.” she said, stretching her arms as she walked.

“I study at Seoul university, also” he said happily, “ I’m a junior. I major in music.”  

“I’m a freshman!” she answered, clapping a little in excitement.

Youngjae hid his smile with his hands, giggling at her adorable actions.

They  arrived at the studio. It was small building  with a large window, with a view inside to an empty dance studio.

She pulled out a set of keys, unlocking the door, quickly.

“No one should be here.” she said as she entered the building.

“Are you allowed to be here? You won’t be in trouble?” Youngjae asked her, following her cautiously. She let her bag and jean jacket drop to the floor when she was far enough in. she was wearing a cropped t-shirt that stopped just above her navel, revealing a little tummy he found extremely cute.

Y/N didn’t have the body of the typical dancer he’d seen around campus. There were plenty of foreign, as well as korean girls; but none as beautiful as she. He might have stared a little too long, again; because he hadn’t noticed that she had walked through a door that was positioned on the right side of the room. He slowly approached the door. As he began to knock the door swung open. Y/N looked at him curiously.

“The piano is in here.” she grabbed his hand, pulling youngjae through. He held on to her hand firmly as she led him to the piano. Her hand was soft and smooth. He smiled at the silky feeling.

He wondered if she could feel his quick pulse. His heart was racing because of the sudden contact.

As they sat close together on the small bench, youngjae tried to keep his composure. He wasn’t nervous around girls, usually; and he had dated before, so he didn’t know why she was making his body react like this.

She let go of his hand and arranged the music so that he could read it.

“You play piano right?” she asked him as she arranged the sheets of music. “Y-yeah.” he stuttered out. She chuckled lightly he was so cute.

“Youngjae, do you want to be my friend?” She asked him suddenly.  He answered yes immediately. So fast it made them both laugh.

They were friends now, which meant he’d see her more often.

He didn’t know why he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful she was.

Even at home that night, while lying in his bed, she was on his mind. The way their hands felt held in each other’s, Youngjae could still feel the warmth of her hand.

She told him that she moved here a few months ago and she stayed right above that studio and that’s why she had keys to it. But what bothered him the most is a boy she kept mentioning. His name was Yugyeom he thought. For some reason she smiled fondly when she began talking about the other boy.

Was he her boyfriend? Youngjae shook the thought out of his head. It wouldn’t be surprising if she had a boyfriend; but he didn’t want to think about it.

Just as Youngjae was drifting off to sleep, a cute pop song played loudly, scaring him half to death. His phone was ringing. He picked it up from his bedside table. It was Y/N.

Just as quickly as he read the name his heart started racing at one hundred miles per hour.

He snapped himself out of his thoughts and fumbled to answer his phone.

“Hello! Y/N??” he said, maybe too loudly.

“Yes its me” he heard her giggle softly, “Youngjae, do you want to come to a party? I need a friend there.”

Youngjae hesitated, he didn’t party much. He didn’t like being crowded with a bunch of people, plus he wasn’t invited to many. All his friend’s knew it wasn’t his thing. He’d rather go to a karaoke room with a friends, it was more fun. But if he was going to get the free opportunity to spend time with Y/N it looked like he better find something to wear.

“Yeah that would be cool.” he tried to sound cool and manly; but it probably came off awkward and raspy. He held his head in his hands. He was totally embarrassing himself.

“I’ll pick you up at eight. Text me your address.” Y/N added before she hung up.

After texting her the directions,  Youngjae ran to his closet.

He picked out a pair of jeans,  a loose black shirt, a pair of black ankle boots (he borrowed from his friend bambam), and one of his favorite wide brim hats.

He just finished his shower and gotten dressed when he heard her knock on the door.

Youngjae eagerly ran to answer. He swung it open quickly.

His jaw dropped to the floor.

She was wearing a pink suede crop top with spaghetti straps ( showing the small rose tattoo on her shoulder), jean shorts, and knee high stockings with a garter that lead up to a place that made his breath hitch.

She looked stunning in something as simple as that.

She smiled at Youngjae, who was staring at her for maybe the hundredth time that day. She had caught him a bunch since they met; but she thought it was cute.

Maybe she liked his attention. She thought it was cute how he became a nervous wreck when they made eye contact.

For the second time that day she took his hand and pulled him to her car quickly.

After getting there, she ran playfully to the driver’s seat.

Youngjae slowly got into the car.

“Isn’t the guy supposed to drive? Should i ask her? Wouldn’t that be cooler? ” he thought to himself

“Buckle up jae.” she said

He laughed loudly, “i forgot!” he said as he fumbled to buckle up.

After a minute of watching him struggle, and laughing to herself, she pushed his hand away, slightly adjusting the belt before she buckled it for him.

She noticed the blush that swept across his face.

“Youngjae, you can relax around me, we’re friends. You don’t need to be nervous.”she tried to reassure him; but it seemed to make him blush more.

She shook her head and laughed at him as she started the car.

The drive to the party was more relaxed for youngjae. He felt he could loosen up when she turned of the radio. They sang together nearly the entire way.

She couldn’t hold a tune but he enjoyed her singing because she was smiling.

The party was packed, with cars down the block. It was a huge house, with people spilling out of it, and music blasting.

“Let’s go!” y/n screamed as she hopped out of the car. Youngjae jogged behind her as she ran into the party.

Right off he noticed he knew lots of people there. Some he had classes with and others was friends with.

While he was greeting people and trying to weave through the crowd to catch up with y/n he noticed a boy approach her.

He was tall, with light brown hair. He was wearing tight jeans, and a button up shirt, slightly unbuttoned and exposing his chest.

He walked up to her and smoothly wrapped his arms around her waist kissing her neck, with a big smile on his face. She turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him.

Youngjae shut his eyes turning around. That’s when he ran into Bambam and Jackson.

“Hey Bro!” jackson yelled pulling youngjae into a tight hug. Youngjae just went with the flow. He tried to seem unbothered. he knew she probably had a boyfriend; but once he saw it with his own eyes his heart broke.

A few hours later, he found himself drinking, leaning against a wall and watching Bambam and jackson try to out drink each other. After they ran out of shots, they sent youngjae to the kitchen for more, since he was the only one steady enough to hold drinks.

As he slowly poured the alcohol into the empty shot glasses, someone bumped him , causing him to spill liquor  all over the table.

He turned to see who caused the accident, he saw a couple making out and walking, probably trying to make it to the bedrooms upstairs.

When he was about to shrug he noticed the face was familiar. It was the boy he recently witnessed with his hands all over Y/N’s body. Youngjae tensed up. How could he cheat on her at a party she was attending. He was going to call a cab and get Y/N out of here before she could see what he was doing. Youngjae grabbed the tray of shots, and as he turned around to bring them to bambam and Jackson, he saw y/n. She was obviously drunk and very teary eyed. She was staring directly at the sight of betrayal that youngjae wanted to help her avoid.

 He quickly sat the tray down and went to her.

“Y/N are you okay?” he asked her. Tears streamed down her face. She hugged him tightly, burying her face in his neck as she cried.  He looked around and saw people looking at them, most likely wondering why she was crying.

“Come on.” he took her hand and walked out of the house. He found her keys and helped her into the back of the car. Since they were both he decided he’d let her calm down and then call a cab for the both of them.   She held onto him tightly, crying into his chest.

He gently rubbed her back.

“I never want to see yugyeom again. I should have know better, he’s done this before.” she declared after a while of crying. She sat up wiping her tears.

 Youngjae watched her carefully. “Are you okay?” he asked her.

 She just stared him. He couldn’t read the look on her face.  He felt okay with their eyes locked; even when she suddenly moved closer. Her hand touching his leg, their lips nearly touching.

 She closed her eyes as they connected.

He embraced her lips, as she moved onto his lap.

 That was really all he could remember, when he woke up. He was undressed, and they were still in the back of her car.

She was laying on top him, still sleeping,topless and holding his hand tightly. His heart raced. Did they sleep together? To be continued...

A/N: i think this is the longest long of written so far. i hope yall like it

-admin Jazzi🥔