❥ Shameless | Kei Tsukishima

I THINK YOU WERE IN MY PROFILE PICTURE ONCE PT 2

After the party, Touya can’t stop thinking about you.

Fluff, sfw, no quirk au

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It’s been six days and Touya can’t stop thinking about you.

He had been right about the party. The end of it at least. He’d shaken you awake and you rushed off to find your friend, a smile and wave goodbye all he had to remember you by. You were late, apparently, too late to stop and give him anything to remember you by. He’d gone home soon after, slipping out before Hawks could berate him for leaving too early.

While Touya had settled for less, had made peace with the fact that you were to be another girl he’d spoken too at a party, he hadn’t been able to get you out of your head. For whatever reason he didn’t want you to just be another girl at a party he’d never speak to again. Touya wanted to see you again and he had no idea how.

What makes the situation ten times worse is he didn’t even get your name. He’s racked his brain for the past couple days and he had come to the embarrassing conclusion that not only did he not get your number, but he was also stupid enough not to ask you what you're called. Maybe if Touya had managed that, he could find your socials. A friend in your course could find your number. Or he could convince Fuyumi to do her weird girly stalk thing and find your mother’s Facebook. But alas, he could do none of that. 

Touya yawns. He scratches at the stubble that’s been growing on his face the past few mornings. It’s a rare day when the weather is warm enough in November for him to wear a short-sleeve, and he abuses the chance while he can. It’s shifts like this, where the shop is empty apart from a few dawdling customers he knows aren’t here to get anything done, that everything drags on.

Touya had (un)subtly hinted at his friend's tattoo and piercing shop because he works there, and it’d be an ample opportunity for him to see you again. Of course, in the past six days he hadn’t seen your face, but that was neither here nor there. It was a nice joint. It looks like any other tattoo shop, designs hung up on the walls, one side of the shop filled with shelves of piercings and jewellery. One side was reserved for tattooing and the other for piercing. Touya works in both parts of the shop, wherever he’s needed most. He has plenty of piercings to prove it but he’s never gotten any tattoos. His skin is marred enough as is. 

The pay was good, and the hours weren’t long. Touya gets on annoyingly well with his coworkers, too. They’re all his age apart from Toga, who, funnily enough, is the same age as Shoto. That’s where all their similarities end, though. She’s loud and full of annoyingly eager energy that he’s grown fond of, unfortunately. The only thing his job is missing in a pretty girl with shitty wired headphones

Touya drums his fingers against the counter. The day has been slow and his fingers itch to do something. Touya thinks, in another life, he might’ve been an artist. Touya loved drawing and painting and all forms of it, but even his mother wouldn’t let him choose it for university. And she never said no to him. Psychology was a second best, another interest he’d dug up from his ass when he realised he actually was going to make it past fifteen.

A job like this, where some shifts Touya can just sit and draw and design things for people, It’s his dream. Maybe he’ll open up a therapist agency next door so he can keep working here part-time.

Touya decides drawing is what he’ll do. He’s got a couple clients expecting things from him. He grabs a scrap of paper from under the desk. The first biro he finds is pink, and he lets spirals and flowers and whatever designs pop up in his head spread across the page. 

“Hey, it’s you!”

Touya thinks that maybe he might have fallen asleep and started dreaming when he hears your voice. But then he looks up, and there you are, grinning like Christmas has come early. You’re wearing a black coat and a scarf, thick and long enough he’s sure you can use it as a blanket. Your jeans are embroidered, colourful flowers leaving a trail down your thighs, and when Touya’s eyes flick back up to your face your cheeks are dusted red from the cold.

“Why the hell are you wearing a short sleeve shirt? Are you mad? It’s freezing out.” You huff, unwrapping the scarf from around your neck.

Touya just watches you. The logical part of his brain tells him that he should probably say something, but instead he just watches as you shrug your coat off. You’re wearing a shirt with what he thinks might be an album cover. Its red and green and yellow, splatters of watercolour, not something he recognises. Touya hopes you’ll play it for him. You finally look up at him, stuffing your earbuds in your pockets.

“You’re awfully quiet today.” You smile.

You lean against the counter, mimicking his position. The two of you are just a little too close for any average customer and cashier interaction, but he doesn’t care, and he is pretty sure you don’t either.

“Just shocked. Didn’t think you’d take me up on the piercing offer.” Touya says.

“Well. I was promised someone called Shiggy, not my nap partner.” Touya snorts at your words and you smile slightly.

Touya gestures around the shop. You follow his hands, looking around the empty store, before landing back on him.

“We’re empty. Only one working right now is me.”

“Well. That doesn’t sound up to code.”

Touya shrugs. “We’re always quiet at this time. My boss is in the back and my coworker is on the way. I’m the best guy here for the job.”

You hum under your breath, nodding. You bite at your thumbnail. Touya tilts his head slightly, and you smile at him nervously. 

“You doing alright?” He asks.

“Yes. Well. No. I’m scared.”

“What are you looking to get done today?” Touya walks round the counter, leaning one hip on it and crossing his arms. Your eyes dart very briefly to his biceps and he is suddenly very thankful he wore a short sleeve today, and that he’d gone to the gym yesterday.

“A piercing.”

“Which one?”

“I’m thinking nipples?”

Touya stammers. He can feel his ears redden and you last all of five seconds with a straight face before you burst out laughing.

“It’s a joke! I’m joking!” You cackle, hands up in the air. “The look on your face!”

Touya rolls his eyes as you wipe tears from under your own, turning his head so you don’t see the flush on his face. “Ha Ha. Very funny.”

“I know, I’m hilarious. What I actually want is a nose piercing.” You tap the side of your nose and Touya nods.

“Okay, cool. That’ll be twenty, including a stud.” 

He reaches under the counter and grabs a consent form. He passes you a pen and gestures you over.

“Here, sign this. Just a safety thing.”

He watches as you scribble your name at the bottom. It’s pretty. Suits you. You bite at your bottom lip and he smiles slightly. You’re not saying anything, but the nerves sit clearly on your face.

“You’ll be fine. It doesn’t hurt that bad.” He reassures.

You glance up at him and worry darts across your face. “You mean it?” You ask, passing back the form. 

Touya starts walking further into the shop and you follow next to him. “Yes, I’m sure. You can hold my hand if you’re really that scared.” He teases.

“Shut up. I might have to. I feel like I’m going to pass out.” You huff.

Touya lets the two of you into a room. You sit down on the chair in the middle of it, and Touya starts grabbing all the things he needs. The disinfectant, a mirror, the needle. You’re too quiet, and when he glances behind him you’re staring at him.

He shakes the disinfectant in the air. “Enjoying the show?”

“Shut up.” 

He brings all the stuff to the small table next to you. Touya puts his hands on his hips and you look up at him.

“What?”

“You still look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

You shove him away. “Shut up. Again. Just get it over with.” 

Touya laughs. “Okay, okay. So. I’m going to use a pen to mark where I’m going to do it. Then I’ll grab the needle and you take a big breath in. And when you breathe out I pierce you and it’s done.” 

He puts on a pair of black gloves as he speaks. He acts like he doesn’t see your eyes following his movements, the lithe movements of his fingers. 

You look back up at his face. “Okay. That doesn’t sound too bad.”

Touya nods. “It’s not. Now you want it on the left or right?” He passes you a mirror and you look through it.

“What do you think will look good?” 

“I think you’ll look pretty with both.”

“Aw. You think I’m pretty?” You bat your eyelashes at him.

“Pretty good. Is what I meant to say. Maybe ugly even.”

You giggle and he grabs the mirror out of your hand. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll do the right side.”

Touya nods. His hand comes up and turns your face to the side, fingers grazing your jaw. The touch is fleeting but it makes him nervous. Like he’s thirteen with a crush on his babysitter. He clears his throat, desperate to distract from how close the two of you are right now.

“So. What made you change your mind about getting something done?”

“Well. I kept thinking about you.” 

It’s Touya’s turn to raise an eyebrow and watch your face redden under his gaze.

“Aw. You were thinking about me?”

You smile cheekily. “Of course! That was the best thirty minute nap I’ve had in my life. I’ve been chasing that high ever since.”

Touya scoffs slightly. His hand finds your jaw again, lifting up your face. You words stutter slightly as he does so. The room settles into soft silence and he reaches forward and dots your nose with his marker. He leans back slightly and you’re close, close enough that he can see the fluffiness of your eyelashes, the blemishes on your skin. You smell so good, something sweet and girly and he breathes it in, scared he’ll forget. Your eyes are trailing over his face, just like how Touya’s doing to you. 

Touya steps back. He needs to be professional. He needs to calm down before he throws himself on you. 

“That's all I am to you? A shoulder to nap on?” He pouts and you laugh.

“Something like that. I also realised I never got your number. Or your socials. Or even your name.” You say.

Touya grabs the needle, sanitising it quickly and tossing the wet wipe away. “I also realised that. I'm Touya, by the way.” 

You say your name back and he nods. “Pretty.”

“You can’t flirt with your customers, Touya. Very unprofessional.”

His name sounds so soft on your tongue, and he wants you to say it again, never stop saying it.

“Who said I’m flirting?”

“You call all your customers pretty?” “Only the ones who can’t stop thinking about me.” 

You roll your eyes. Touya is tall enough that when he drags over a stool and sits down he still towers over you a little. Your fingers grip the edge of the chair you’re sitting on. You eye the needle in his hands and he hides it behind his back.

“Don’t look. You’ll freak yourself out more.” He chides, and you huff.

“What, should I just keep my eyes shut the whole time?”

Touya shrugs. “If you want. I’ll talk you through it.” 

Your eyes widen slightly and Touya laughs nervously.

“Like- I’ll tell you what I’m doing. By talking. While I’m doing it. It- the piercing.” 

You smile teasingly and he taps your knee so you’ll close your eyes, before you see how flustered he looks. You comply quickly, and god you’re just so beautiful. You swing your legs slightly and it’s only when confusion teases at the edges of your eyebrows he realises he’s been staring at you like a freak for so long. In silence. 

Touya’s voice is low when he speaks again. “Alright. I need you to breathe in for me.”

Your chest rises as you breathe in quickly. “And I’ll countdown, and when I reach one you breathe out quickly and I pierce you. Easy, right?”

You nod. Your eyes are screwed shut and Touya thinks you feel the shiver that runs down his spine when you reach forward and grab his forearm. Right over his scars. You don’t seem to care though, fingers finding comfort in him despite the marred skin on his body. 

“Three. Two. One.” 

You breathe out loudly and the needle goes through. Your eyes water slightly and your grip on him tightens.

“Good girl, see? Wasn’t that bad.” He soothes, putting the stud in your nose. 

He places the needle onto the table and grabs the mirror. Your eyes are still shut tightly and you’re still holding onto him. Touya takes off his gloves and pats your hand.

“You can look now.” He says. 

You open your eyes and take the mirror from his hand. Your face lights up lightly and you let go of him to touch the piercing gingerly, and he misses the cooling touch of your fingertips immediately.

“Wow. It’s cute! And it didn’t even hurt that bad, either.”

“I told you.” 

You sigh happily. And then you look at Touya again. He feels nervous under your gaze, so intense and so focused on him.

“Thank you, Touya.”

“Its, uh. It’s no issue. It’s my job.”

The two of you talk as he leads you back to the counter, basic housekeeping for your new piercing,  but he can’t help but think about the fact you’re going to leave and he might not see you again for god knows how long. As nervous as you make him Touya is not going to pussy out twice.

“So. What are you doing in two hours?” He asks, leaning over the counter.

You pause from where you’re cocooning back into your puffer coat and scarf. You blink at him owlishly. 

“Me?”

“No, the other person standing in front of me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. You loop your scarf around your neck before looking back up at him.

“Nothing. What are you doing in two hours?”

“Taking you out, hopefully.” He says.

You laugh nervously, face heating, and god if you keep looking at him like that he’s going to get fired for doing indecent things to a customer.

“Alright, Touya. You want me to meet you back here?”

“Nah, I’ll come pick you up.” 

You nod, biting back a smile. “Well. In that case.”

You grab the pink biro Touya had forgotten on the counter. And then your hands, still cold compared to the heat that blooms against his skin, wrap around his wrist and drag him closer. You lean over slightly, writing you number across the small of his arm.

“God, you’re so warm.” You mumble, ending the long string of numbers with a poorly drawn heart.

“You’re hands are freezing.” He replies.

And before he really thinks he’s grabbing your hand in his own, and both of your hands could fit in one of his, and god he is a creep. You just smile though, squeezing once before letting go to grab your bag.

“Good think I’ve got you to warm them up for me.” You grin, waggling your fingers in the air.

Touya just nods. Your grin widens at his silence, and before he knows it you’re waving goodbye and he’s left wishing you’d come back.

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HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE 🥳it took me a scarily long time to finish this 😭i had sooo much uni work I literally had no time but I’ve been (once again) in love with Touya so I had to finish this fic

This was heavily based on a post I saw from @tragikomizm of artstudent! Touya that I LOVED so deffo check out her stuff!

Anyways I hope u all enjoyed :P I really do love writing these and I will try and get more stuff out! Also if anyone has any good ao3 fic reccoemndation (happy endings plz) PLZ COMMENT I JEED SMTH TO READ!

anyways that recent ask about if Compass!Nemi could have kids in a perfect world has me thinking about this little bit from an upcoming chapter (ft a bloody, beaten Sanemi)

“I’d make babies with you,” he slurs, his head falling heavily onto his arm.

“No, you wouldn’t,” your fingers peel his eye lids back, studying the way his pupils react to the light. “You don’t want kids, remember?”

Thankfully, Sanemi’s eyes dilate the way you think they’re supposed to. No concussion, at least.

“Said I can’t have ‘em, not that I didn’t want ‘em. Two different things.” He groans as you turn your attention to the many bruises blooming along his ribs, nauseating whorls of black and purple rapidly covering the left side of his torso. “I’d only have ‘em if it was with you. We’d make a whole truckload.”

“That’s ambitious,” you tear a wad of paper towel from its holder on the table and shove the wad in front of his lips. “Cough.”

With a wince, Sanemi complies. He coughs once, twice, before he rolls his face against his forearm. You inspect the paper towel with excruciating precision, searching for any sign of red among the spittle staining its fibers, but there is none to be found.

Sighing, you crumple the towel in your hand and slump into the seat next to his. If any ribs are indeed broken, they haven’t punctured his lungs. You’ll take your silver linings where you can get them.

Sanemi continues pouring his heart out all over your table, the lids of his eyes growing heavy. “Kids and grandkids, too. I’d do it all with ya, if we were anywhere but here”.

BONUS

“I think you’d make a damn good mom, for what it’s worth. ‘M sorry I’m takin’ that away from you.”

lovesick loverboy

Perv!Takeomi Akashi x Fem!Reader Headcanons

wc: 286

tw: NSFW

masterlist

Perv!Takeomi loves to stare. Whether he's watching from the tables in the cafeteria or in class, he's shameless about it. When you catch his eye, he'll wink, or do nothing at all. But it's noticeable.

Perv!Takeomi enjoys the sight of you jogging down a flight of stairs. Not because your boobs bounce... not at all!

Perv!Takeomi loves to help you out at the gym. He loves the way sweat rolls down your chest and disappears into your sports bra. He loves to see you do jumping jacks... so many fucking jumping jacks.

Perv!Takeomi wants to tell you how much and how often he thinks about you, but instead of doing any of that, he finds himself giving you popsicles and lollipops just to watch your lips wrap around them as if you were giving him his own personal blowjob. Then he remembers how it looked while he strokes himself to completion at night.

Perv!Takeomi is protective over you. He calls you his "little sis" affectionately and then proceeds to sling his arm around your shoulder, getting close enough for you to smell his aftershave. And close enough for him to smell your shampoo and place a kiss on your cheek. A brotherly one.

Perv!Takeomi plays around with his fantasies about you, preferring to choose ones where he's being the best 'helper' that he can. He's helping you get off and you're enjoying it... but it's all in his mind, of course.

Finally, Perv!Takeomi won't step over the boundary of being your closest friend, inviting you over for parties, and maybe getting a little too drunk and holding you close so he "can hear you better". But you can bet in his dreams, you're the main character.

trick or treat

Trick or Treat

Ghost/Dabi x fem!Reader x Konig/Shigaraki

⇢ word count: roughly 3.2K ⇢ plot: It's Halloween and you make the mistake of knocking at the wrong door.  ⇢ warnings: Minors DNI, tw smoking, consensual rough sex, rough kissing, rough manhandling, a bit of degradation, slapping, oral sex (m receiving), deep throating, cum in throat, unprotected PIV-sex, anal fingering, deep creampie, Ghost and Konig aka Dabi and Shiggy are actual sweethearts and take care of the reader later ⇢ A huge shoutout to my beta @blankexpressions-and-falsefires. without you, this wouldn't happen. without you, this wouldn't be as great. i am forever grateful for your help!

You and your friends were on your way to a Halloween party, which was going to take place in an old warehouse. The invites had been distributed months ago already, and everyone had been looking forward to it. 

What you were wearing wasn't very unique at all: Black high-heel boots combined with a short, ruffled red velvet skirt, a black petticoat underneath, and a matching red underbust corset. It pushed your boobs up so high that they nearly popped out any time you bent over. Thankfully, a white, off-shoulder blouse helped to keep a little bit of your decency intact. The last finishing touch was a red velvet cape. 

You guessed it—you'd picked the Little Red Riding Hood as this year's costume.

Getting off the subway station, your group walked down the dimly lit street, the wind blowing leaves and scraps of garbage along the street. The clacking sound of your high heels echoed off the walls and you wrapped your cape tighter around you and hoped that the warehouse would offer some shelter from the cold. Trying to avoid the cracks in the concrete with your pointy heels, you followed the rest of the crowd—as something off to the side caught your attention. 

A lone, lit pumpkin sat at a shabby door, a flickering lamp above it shedding just a bit of light.

“Hey girls!” you called out. “There's someone inviting trick-or-treaters over here!”

Your friends stopped and looked at the door you were pointing at. Nonetheless, they turned while your best friend called over “It's just a prank, forget about it!”

“I want some candy, though.” Pursing your lips into a pout, you stalked over to the other side of the street, calling over to the rest of your small crowd, “Go on ahead. I'll catch up to you later!” 

You didn't mind them rolling their eyes at you—cause you have been known to have the sweetest tooth of them after all.

Taking a deep breath you raised your hand and knocked on the door. Once. Twice.

No answer. 

Okay, you reason, it was just a prank. Just as you were about to turn, you heard voices closing in behind the door.

"Didn't think anyone would fall for this shit.” A dark voice hissed. “What kind of dumbass are they?"

"Beats me." Another husky voice spoke.

The door swung open and you inhaled sharply. Before you stood two men dressed head to toe in combat suits, one of them wearing a sniper hood, the other a Balaclava complete with a hard plastic skull attached to the disguise. 

Each of them was a character from the game Call of Duty– Konig and Simon “Ghost” Riley. 

The one dressed as Ghost casually leaned against the door frame. His eyes scanned over you, and your gut tightened, watching the brilliant cerulean of his irises take you in. His skull Balaclava, obscuring any other feature on his face, sent chills down your spine. The other's smoldering amber gaze grazed the curves of your body and lingered especially long on your décolleté before stopping back at your face. As far as you could make out, they both looked well-toned, and your gut instinct told you that they were stunningly attractive underneath those masks. Your heart started beating faster.

“Oh, look what we have here.” The man dressed as Konig mused in a sneering tone. “If it ain't Little Red Riding Hood.”

“What a coincidence—" his friend chuckled, his voice low and husky. "Cause you can consider us the Big Bad Wolves—”

It sent goosebumps crawling up your spine,  but you still bravely muttered with a shaky voice, “T-trick or t-treat?”

Konig and Ghost looked at one another, chuckling, before their gazes went back to you. 

"You really looking for a treat, little red?" Ghost cocked his head, brilliant blue seemingly burning into you.

Both men's lustful stares were unmistakable as they looked at your body with a desire mirroring the feeling that rose quickly in your chest.

"U-uhm, I guess?" You stuttered, heat rising into your ears now.

“Treat it is,” he said. With that, his strong fingers circled your wrist and he pulled you inside, Konig slamming the door shut behind you.

A shriek left your throat when he pressed you against the wall, his ghostly mask hovering right in front of you.

"You really want this?" He asked, tilting his head, "We'll only proceed if you do."

One hand propped him against the wall, the other trapped your jaw between thumb and forefingers. His hips wedged you in place and it sent a jolt of pleasure right between your thighs. You shamelessly squeezed them together, cheeks starting to glow with fear—and excitement.

"I-I don't know," you licked your lips as subtly as you could, and you could swear you felt him twitch in his pants. 

His eyes fixated on your lips as he pulled the Balaclava down from beneath the skull, tucking the fabric under his chin to reveal the lower half of his face. His lips alone, sharp and sultry, had you aching for more.

"I think you do," Ghost chuckled, his warm breath fanning your lips, the hard plastic of his mask almost brushing against your nose. His fingertips felt scorching yet delicate when he pulled you in for a kiss.

His tongue pushed past your lips, moving languidly around yours. The kiss turned raw and bruising, growing rougher by the second. His cold mask dug into your skin but the thrill of it all made you forgive it easily. Groaning into his mouth, your hands ghosted over his chest, feeling the taut muscles underneath his clothes. Your legs buckled, but Ghost was quick to react and slip a leg between your thighs to hold you in place. His firm thigh pressed right against you, delivering much-needed friction to stimulate your growing desire. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out, half-lidded eyes smoldering with desire when he broke the kiss. He pulled the Balaclava back and straightened up, chuckling at the sight of a wet spot left on his pants. "You really love this, don't you?"

You nodded hazily. You were given no chance to catch your breath as he dragged you to a small, square table nearby. His grip was rough but gentle enough not to hurt you. You shrieked again when Ghost pressed your chest flat against the surface. Konig stepped close, his hand stroking the heavy and full shape of the growing bulge beneath his clothes. Ghost clasped his hand tightly around your wrists, pinning them against your back, holding you down. 

“P-please be gentle,” you pleaded, having seen both outlines of their dicks —not small in size—  strain against their boxers, ready to be strangled by your tight pussy.

"Don't be a chicken. You agreed to this.” Konig rasped. “So, we get to destroy you, corrupt your little pussy—" 

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, and your heartbeat started to pick up as you struggled against Ghost's iron grip.

"Aw, don't scare our little bunny, Shigaraki" Ghost tutted, stroking your back with his free hand. "We aren't gonna hurt you, doll."

Something in his voice made you feel like you could trust him — you felt that he meant it — and your body relaxed, your breath evening out.

"Party pooper–" Konig grumbled behind his hood, as he rounded the table to stop right in front of your face. 

"W-what are you gonna do to me–" You swallowed thickly, thrill shooting through your body in a rush of  adrenaline. 

“You want us to be gentle,” his voice suddenly deepened, “Or should we treat you like the little tramp you are?” 

“I am no tramp—” you replied breathily.

“Hm— Am I wrong to think that this turns you on?” Ghost chuckled. “The idea of getting fucked by two strangers just like this?” 

Ghost's hand trailed up your thigh, hiking up your skirt and petticoat to reveal the curves of your perfect ass cheeks. A growl erupted in the back of his throat at the sight, his hand stroking the soft skin he found there. The coil inside your stomach tightened as you felt his crotch grind against you from behind. You realized he was giving you a small taste of just how much of a treat you would be getting. Trying to push yourself back against his thick meat, though, earned you a harsh slap against your ass with his tactical leather gloves.

“Ow!” you cried out, the stinging pain driving tears to your eyes.

"Fucking lay still." Ghost growled and you instantly froze at the sheer authority in his tone, a hot pulse shooting straight between your legs.

He leaned over, whispering against the shell of your ear. "So, little Red, what's it gonna be for you?”

Your lips parted in a strangled whimper. You didn’t want them to be gentle. You didn’t want them to be respectful. This was thrilling, you've always dreamed about being roughly taken, about being manhandled. 

“Fuck me, please.” You pleaded.

“It's Sir to you!” Ghost slapped you again, the pain searing this time.

"Yes—Sir—treat me like your cumdump!” You choked out, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes.

"Atta girl." He purred and you could almost hear the amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Ghost pulled your soaked panties down until they dangled between your ankles and dropped to the floor with a wiggle of your heels.

"Why do you always get to use the pussy, Dabi?" Konig whined, annoyed even as he unzipped his combat pants.

"Cause you only know how to fuck, boss." Ghost chuckled behind you. "Not how to please."

You swallowed thickly, feeling your heart beating so fast.

His hand gently stroked your ass again as he hummed. "This is supposed to be a treat after all."

A sense of comfort washed through you but you knew better than to rely on it. And oh boy, were you right.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded, moving to stand in between them as you eagerly complied.

Konig freed his hard cock from his pants. It was so thick and heavy that it was hanging low even though it was fully erect. 

"Open up. I’m gonna fuck your face," giving it a few lazy pumps, he closed in on your face. His shameful words sent electricity to your nerves, and your mouth started to water as you opened it in eager anticipation.

Konig slipped the fingers of his free hand into your strands, holding your head still as he slotted himself at your lips before pushing his length between them. His spongy tip quickly slipped in and he let it rest on your tongue for a brief moment before pressing deeper.

Groaning against Konig's cock, you barely made out the sound of a zipper being undone behind you. Ghost lined up his cock with your soaked cunt, gathering your slick on his spongy tip, and only then was it that you knew that this really was going to happen. He snapped his hips forward without warning, quickly hitting resistance. 

The force pushed you down on Konig’s length further until its tip hit the back of your throat. He was breathing hard, bucking his hips forward, loving the way you loosened your jaw and let him fuck your mouth.

The man behind you slowly started thrusting into you, the metal barbells of his Jacob’s Ladder continuously stroking your insides, his Prince Albert piercing kissing your cervix and making you tighten and flutter around him. Each time he pulled out, his cock was covered in more of your glistening juices.

“Ah—fuck—look at that dripping cunt—” Ghost growled, rocking his hips against your behind, watching how your greedy, sloppy pussy kept taking him, even if he could only fit halfway.

They filled you up so perfectly—Ghost’s thick, pierced cock stretched your whole pussy without getting close to being balls deep, Konig’s heavy one sitting deep in your mouth, his fat testicles slapping against your drool-covered chin with each thrust forward. A gargled moan bubbled up your throat, feeling so stuffed from both ends, with Ghost's piercings rubbing perfectly against the spot that made stars erupt before your eyes.  

Goosebumps erupted all over your body as your mind began to swim.

"Aw, are you enjoying yourself?” Ghost leaned forward. "We'll make you feel even better soon...”

Then he started pounding into you, again and again until your brain was shut down. You choked between gasps as every thrust he made knocked the air from your lungs and forced Konig’s cock to slide deeper than before– until it was buried deep down your throat. You struggled to take it, breathing heavily through your nose, pleading watery eyes shooting up to his face to silently beg for a second of reprieve. 

"You look so beautiful, stuffed with my cock like this–” Ghost said in a voice that was just a low rasp. 

You were dizzy, breathless as he kept filling up your pussy with short, harsh strokes. He watched you writhe in pleasure on the table, your sloppy mouth stuffed with Konig’s dick. Ghost bent his head down and you could feel his breath on your neck as he inhaled your scent. 

"You're taking both of us so well, little cockslut." Konig's words made you whimper even louder, glistening eyes meeting his as you struggled to breathe.

With Ghost’s hand still pinning your wrists behind your back, there was no escaping the assault. He slammed his hips harder against your pussy until you mewled out in pleasure, his piercings rubbing your g-spot just right.

The feeling of both men relentlessly working themselves in and out of you was overwhelming. Heavy grunts and growls accompanied the wet sounds of your sloppy holes getting fucked as they worked themselves into a frenzy. Ghost's cock drove deep, but you knew with a little effort, you could accommodate more of him. You parted your legs further to give Ghost even more access to your cunt. His dick began to throb and twitch, his hips bucking back and forth to find the perfect angle to thrust into you. 

And he did find it. Your body shook with pleasure, making you squeal deliciously around Konig's length. Ghost let out a breathless chuckle and spread your ass cheeks, wetting his thumb before sticking it into your puckered hole.

His friend watched the scene before him, half-lidded crimson eyes glazed with lust and desire. The sight before him turned him on so much that his hips stuttered and he came without warning. He let out a strangled groan, his hand grabbing your hair tightly as he forced you to take his entire length, his tip slipping past the back of your throat. You moaned, feeling him twitch on your tongue, spilling his hot seed deep inside of you. His free hand rose to massage your throat, savoring the way you gulped and swallowed around his twitching meat.

“That's it, baby, take every drop of his cum," Ghost praises you. "Fuck– you're such a good girl.” He looked down to where you two were connected, his thumb buried deep in your ass, a sticky wet mess covering the base of his cock.

You tried to breathe but Konig didn’t budge, staying buried deep inside of you as Ghost picked up the pace now. He gave you strong thrusts that grazed the right spot, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. You moaned, your vision turning blurry. The lack of oxygen, the continuous onslaught from behind— it was too much. it pushed you over the edge and you came, clamping around his dick while your sounds of pleasure remained muffled by Konig's cock still buried deep inside your throat. 

Ghost kept pounding into you while you rode out the high of your orgasm and finally, Konig pulled his softening cock from your mouth, letting you sputter and gasp for the air he'd denied you. He let himself fall back against the table behind him, his flaccid, drool-covered cock still massive in size and twitching slightly. Reaching out, he pushed your hair behind your ear before wiping off the saliva dribbling down your chin as you frantically gasped for air.

Ghost behind you kept up the pace, rutting his thumb in and out of your little pink hole in a contrasting beat to his thrusts. It became too much— you completely lost it, overstimulated and moaning unabashedly like a porn star now. Your cunt spasmed around his cock for a second time and you threw your head back in ecstasy, crying out through your climax.

“There you go, you're so fucking hot coming for us, doll." Ghost praised, continuing to rock his hips against yours. His deep thrusts grew messier and messier, being himself close to his release. 

Konig watched, eyes glowing with re-awakening desire as he tucked himself away.

"I'm gonna fucking cum inside of you." Ghost let out with a low growl in his throat, sending goosebumps along your body. “Gonna fill you up, gonna breed you so good—”

He gained speed and with a final snap of his hips, he groaned out loud when he came, his hips stuttering as he shot ropes of hot cum against your womb. You could feel his cock throb with each shot, before he plummeted forward, breathing heavily. His chest pressed against your spine, and you felt his semen seep out, dripping onto the floor below. Silence took over the room while all of you tried catching your breath, hair sticking to sweaty foreheads, cocks sticky with release. 

Ghost started chuckling, pulling out of you with an obscene pop. His eyes were still glazed with desire as he watched how your pussy struggled to contain the load of his release. "You look so damn pretty filled up with my cum." he said with a hidden smirk as he kept pushing it back into you with his fingers. 

He stepped back to tuck himself away, and you stood back up on wobbly feet, brain foggy from the orgasms. Carding your fingers through your messed up hair, you reached for your panties but Ghost was quick to grab and stuff them into his pant pocket.

"Nu-uh," he tutted, his brilliant azure eyes twinkling with mischief. You sighed in defeat, trying your best to smooth down your skirt.

He pulled his balaclava down, slid his hand into his pocket to retrieve a pack of cigarettes, and lit himself one. Taking a deep drag, he exhaled slowly. “So, what were you doing here anyway?”

“I was on my way to a Halloween party with my friends.” You coyly replied, carding your fingers through your hair. 

“Ya still wanna go?” He cocked his head, smoldering azures taking you in.

“What do you mean?" You looked up at him through thick lashes, still damp with the heavy tears that had sprung from your eyes in the struggle to keep down Konig’s cock.

“What Dabi wants to know is if you wouldn't rather continue our little party.” Konig snickered.

“Oh.” Was your simple reply. 

“C’mon doll, let's get ya cleaned up," Ghost pressed a kiss against your forehead. "In the meantime, Shigaraki is gonna get us some  drinks.” 

He swung an arm around your shoulder, leading you toward the door next to the dimly lit bar on the far side of the room. “We still have more treats for you…”

Happy Halloween and thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! If you comment or reblog, you'll make my day!

✶ nuclear seasons, [ soldier boy x reader ]

summary — he was friend’s with your mom. friend is a understatement cause when he appears in the middle of the night looking for revenge in your little apartment in the suburbs, you know he’s far from being nice.

warnings — +18 minors dni, smut, dead dove do not eat, we have a last name (also a mother!), kind of porn without plot? but not really cause it HAS one okay, we call it 50/50, fem!reader using she/her pronouns, p in v, masturbation ( m! receiving but blink and you miss it), dirty talk, age gap, choking, degradation, spitting (i'm sorry), fingering, mentions of injury, cancer (not you tho), tons of tension.

side notes — i’m never experiencing the post ovulation clarity lmao, that being said english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes, also i’m a whore for jensen ackles, and i stand for what i like proudly. // 5k+

Nightshade is a hero.

You're proud of your mother since you were pretty young. The hero that fought against Vought to death during the time Payback was active, America’s Troublemaker that you only knew as Stella Nightshade, a blonde woman that talked with the death during her golden years.

Maybe it’s your mother the one that pushed you to fight crime, to pursue the bad guys and look out for the victims that can’t stand for themselves, so even when you don’t inherit much from Stella’s gifts, you joined the CIA as soon as you can so you can do something that matters.

You’re the best in your class, work your ass off to be taken serious, to be more than the look of disappointment you receive when people ask, once again, if you have any powers like your mother and you have to admit — In pure shame, that you didn’t born as a superhero but a baby who cried loudly when is too hungry.

But as years pass you make a name for yourself, one that even if differs from Stella’s job has the same noble reasons behind. You also realize you were too naive growing up, believing in heroes that don’t deserve to be called that way.

The country has made a mistake on making superhumans so openly, and it’s clear that got out of control now, backfiring as they got so much power it’s almost impossible to take accountant of any of them.

You’ve worked along Grace Mallory from the shadows, and even when Stella would not be so proud of you for helping get his kind out of the streets, the justice is enough to feed you and keep you warm on a cold night.

You like it that way. You know Grace has a team for it, a legal army of supe-haters as you called them, yet, you prefer to stay in the dark, not let your personal life get involved cause one slip and you can lose it all— Even when you don’t have nothing at all. You like to have an outside life from work, it’s the sane thing to have, so when the CIA Deputy Director asks you about joining the infamous Boys, you politely decline assuring the woman you’ve been more helpful from the outside.

What would Stella Nightshade would say? Now that you’ve grown older and you don’t look at her the same way you used to when you encounter her files and read about your mother. You know she has done wrong, yet with the years, you don't imagine Soldier Boy himself was going to seek for revenge first thing he does when he wakes up, his plan including your mother even when she was long time dead before he even appeared in the picture.

That night especially you let your guard down. It's been a rough couple of weeks back in work, so when the night comes you're a victim of the stress, victim of your bosses and the people that surrounded you. You pour a glass of wine for yourself, light a cigarette even when you haven't smoked in years, and turn on the TV to see something else rather than the face of Homelander in every single channel you've been tuning lately.

It's a weapon. When you leave for a warm shower and start filling the bathtub, you're not aware of what that night was really going to be for you. Oblivious as you stand naked in the middle of the bathroom, holding the glass of wine between your fingers before entering the warm current that relaxed your muscles.

It seems tension is your worst enemy, makes your muscles feel like stone as you got in the water, the cigarette that hangs from your dry lips splashing with tiny droplets of perfumed water as the silence filled the air. It's what you needed, at least ten minutes with your brain shutting off completely, the pleasure you haven't experienced in forever by being so compromised with work.

It's a much-needed break. The smoke that leaves the room by the almost-closed window, the taste of wine still lingering in your lips as you sip another taste of the crimson liquor you love. You don't happen to notice when he's breaking in your apartment, silent and deadly as you were protected by a door closed and a white curtain.

You don't happen to hear him too. The music coming our from your phone is loud enough to silence the knocks on your door at first before breaking the wood, you're too deep in the still water that smelled like roses and vanilla, to even pay attention to what was going on outside the warmth of the four walls that surrounded you.

There's vapor coming out of the water and you find comfort in closing your eyes, in letting the blow of the smoke travel through your throat before suspending itself in the air, flowing as you drank.

In your defense, you haven't been like that in ages.

It's been a long time since you last fill the tub and have a relaxing session with yourself, so it makes sense you are enjoying it a little bit too much, too much cause when the invader is making a lot of noise when stepping into your property, you still enjoy the taste of the alcohol on your lips.

The ashes fall to the ceramic floor outside the tub and you should blame the CIA to make you so tense to the point it leads you to more problems than you ever had. In the dark room of your apartment, it's Soldier Boy the one who's going through any drawer he comes across, the ones closed, the ones hidden, any slit he can find, any clue that can trace your mother back to his personal vendetta.

He's oblivious to Stella's death and her daughter, so when the former superhero hears the noise in the bathroom he's fully convinced it's your mother the one who's behind that door, that she's the one who's going to tell him the truth, if she also sold him to the russians as well in the process.

He's decided also on killing her. She must need it after all that time getting older, closer to death more than ever.

Of course it's an unpleasant surprise when you can see the bathroom door opening when you're sure you left the front door closed and lock with at least two bolts to prevent anyone from getting inside, it makes you jump in the spot, quickly covering yourself from the new stranger that enters your bathroom.

"Stella?" he asks, it's the last room that the hero needs to check for himself.

You spot the green fabric of his suit immediately as you pressed your chest against the cold surface of the tub, and when the invader notices you're naked, he doesn't look away as any person with a hint of respect would do, but instead, continue on checking you out as you try to cover yourself in the water tinted in a nonexistent transparent color red.

You can feel his gaze as soon as you recognize him too, as you happen to notice that face from your mother's pictures, the propaganda in the TV when he did almost every commercial back when you were a kid. It's a shock, and dressed in his damn suit, you don't know why an old superhero is there standing beneath the yellowish bulbs of the light your bathroom happens to have.

Your cheeks adopt this pink color as you panic, grabbing the cup of wine to throw the liquid in the floor, breaking it against the marble walls just to shatter the glass in pieces, a weapon of defense as you lifted up against him.

"You're not Stella."

Soldier Boy looks amused: it's funny that you think you'd be able to kill him with shattered glass, yet he lets you keep thinking that way when he's enjoying the view.

Is he to blame? He just got out from this giant cooking oven back with the communists and he hasn't got his way with a lady since what seems are centuries, so when he spots you in the tub he simply cannot contain himself from peaking around. You should be in what? Not more than your 20's? Soft-looking skin that asked to be marked with his hands, by the force of his lips crashing in your flesh.

The thought is compelling, you're looking all feisty with the glass in your hand, threatening him and speaking something Soldier Boy cannot catch at first — Shit, he doesn't even notice the blood in your hand that's dripping all over your small rug in the floor, the power women like yourself seemed to have now and weirdly enough, a huge turn on.

"Get the fuck out!" you scream in an authority voice, the same you use back at work when you're mad, when you're usually holding a gun in defense more than a piece of broken glass "Stella is not fucking here!"

It takes a few more words to actually get him out of there, and as he closes the door behind him you finally stand to grab a towel covering from the currents of wind, trying, really hard, to think about anything else more that the fact that Soldier Boy has entered your house and your bathroom in the worst moment, far from what you were last updated with.

To be honest, it almost gave you a heart attack, leaving the bathroom to find your home torn apart, the drawers open and all the papers you've meticulously kept in place being all over the place as Ben stands awkwardly holding a shield in the middle of your living room.

"Fucking hell" you're cursing under your breath as you gathered some important things you cannot leave on the floor even when you're still wet from the shower, expelling this nice aroma that mixed the roses and the vanilla together with your personal scent — Weirdly enough, a fucking show to the hero that's already rock-hard from the peak he had of you from before.

You don't really notice it at first, too busy being mad as you let the papers you gathered on top of the table. You lose the shame you got left as the wet drops of the shower leave a trace in the floor — And as usual, you clearly don't notice it, but Ben does when the water is running down your back, and you're barking something about calling someone called Grace, holding onto a white tower with your dear life.

"Where is Stella Nightshade, sweetheart?" he speaks out loud cause he don't understand anything you say, really fighting to be nice with you like it would give him an opportunity to get under your skin.

"My mother's dead," you stand there without knowing what to say after. You know he and your mother were close, but you don't imagine he was going to actually go find her teammate when he recently woke up in a different country. "She died years ago dude, i'm sorry."

The information gathers in his head as you take a clean oversized shirt from the laundry basket covering with it as you throw the towel to the floor, Red Hot Chili Peppers it says, but he thinks it's a place in Italy more than a band like he isn't troubled already by the fact you were Stella's daughter, the person who thought was her only friend back in the time now dead.

"Does anyone know you're here?" your mind is drifting back to work again as you wondered if anyone knew he was going to break into your apartment and choose not to send any help — "Ben."

You've read his file. Hell, to be honest you've read every single file in Payback, so it's no surprise you know his name, but to the hero, it seems to be amusing when you call him by his real name, his mind fueled in a different direction as he notices you're not wearing any underwear beneath the shirt you're choosing to wear, one whose fabric's barely covering your tights.

"What do you mean dead?" he asks, furrowing his brows "It's not been so long."

"She got cancer three years ago" you explain with a sad tone, even when you disagree with Stella, it pains you to remember what sickness made out of her, consuming her from the inside at a cruel pace.

"Motherfucker," he states clearly angry, and you cannot help but look at him with a weird face, searching for the phone you left in the sofa to call any-fucking-body in the office that could send a damn army to get you: Didn't the Boys have everything under control? That's what you're told anyway, then why the fuck is the subject of matter cursing in your little messy apartment? — "Bitch just got away with it before I could do anything, isn't it? What a fucking shame."

"Pardon me?" it catches you by surprise at first, but it hits you soon after. Soldier Boy is not there to say hello to your mother or ask for her help, but instead, he's there to get revenge and actually kill Stella by his own matters.

Fuck. Of course is something new, something that makes you feel cold all sudden, your wet hair making you visible shake as you became aware of his plans.

"You know them. You know the people from the lab" it's more of a fact than a question, letting the words feel salty in his own mouth. "The ones that let me get away."

He's quickly to gather the pieces too, not as dumb as you think he is as the puzzle is finally coming up together in his head, and it's all it takes for him to take a step closer to you, cutting that space you've created since you kicked him out of the bathroom — He's angry now.

The red globe on his hand is now holding you by the throat, applying enough pressure to cut the air flow going to your lungs almost completely, his fingertips warm against your bare skin as he holds you in front of his figure, pushing you against the cold wall.

You usually would enjoy such activities, yet in the context you are trapped in right now, you began to choke, your own hands trying to push his grip back even when he’s too strong, not even flinching when you’re squirming, gasping for some air as your face became red, tears gathering in your eyes as he let you breathe for a couple of seconds when he senses you’re too close to black out.

“Talk little Nightshade” he says in a low voice. “Or else i’m breaking your pretty neck.”

“I work for the CIA!” You explain quickly as your breathing became more labored by the seconds. “Not for the people who let you out! I promise!”

He’s going to kill you. You can see the determination in his eyes, that predator look he happens to have.

What you don’t know, somehow, is that he’s going fucking insane. Your smell coming up to his nose to make him shiver, the sight of you in an oversized shirt that barely covers your shape is more than enough to push his buttons, to make him forgot about any killing he was allegedly so concentrated in fulfill, the sight of you almost crying messing with his brain.

Little Nightshade is a fucking tease.

His eyes follow your expression, the hand that gripped your neck and choke you harshly now pressing enough to only suppress the air flow in a more enjoyable way, the tension quickly shifting from dying to pleasure all over again as he kept you in place so easily.

It’s impossible to move, to do anything more than be pressed against a cold wall. Your mother has once again lied to you and you notice the relationship she painted with Soldier Boy was more of a movie in her head than reality itself. Makes you gulp in response when you stare at his expression, the face of a trained killer as you knew, fucking knew, a bit more of force in your neck and it would snap without any difficulty.

“I don’t work with them” you assure once again, maybe it’s your survivor skills hitting when you repeat it in a low voice, catching on your breath when he lets go allowing you to fill your lungs with air just enough before pressing that very spot again, the one that actually turns you on. “Fuck’s sake.”

Is that how you end? On your lame apartment?

The next is a weird thing, cause in the blink of an eye he’s close to your face planting his own body next to yours and you’re shivering at the feeling, his armor pressed against your chest as he left the shield he was holding on the floor.

The metal is pressed against your skin covered by the thin cotton of Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt, and he is so close, so close you froze there, no longer fighting his tight grip but mesmerized by his damn face, the same you watched on TV when you were a kid, the handsome man you happen to severely crush on in secret, just because you don’t want Stella to know or she will give you a long talk about how he is her age.

But he is, handsome as fuck, and now being so close to his face you can say it with all confidence. His beard is shaved perfectly and he smells incredibly good even for someone who has spent time locked away without any kind of hygiene, his green suit protecting him from the cold air that was getting through the opened window.

“Who are you?” he asks, scanning your face with a curious look as he wanted to know what expression you would have when you know why he's there in the first place — “What do you know about Stella Nightshade, your mother, selling me out?”

Fuck. So that's why he's there. You know she did it. And it's impossible for you to lie when he's making you so nervous, away from any weapon, any form of defense as you left the glass in the bathroom sink when you notice large gash on your hand, and your silence makes nothing more than leave him fuming. If he was angry before, he now reaches a higher level as his grip turns more violent now that he knows you know what he meant, why he's there claiming to talk with your death mother out of nothing.

"Call her then. Use your powers" he demands dryly, and you're shaking at this point cause it's more shame added to the long pile, the bathroom already being a humiliation by itself. "Fucking call her."

You squirm beneath his grabbing, when he's pushing you harder against the concrete wall and you can just feel him from under the suit, hard cock pressing against your belly, green in your vision as he towers over you. He knows what he's doing, and even when you try to be disgusted by it, you find yourself enjoying his closeness, how he's pinning you with no effort at all, hands on your throat while he demanded an answer.

"I can't call her" you admit in a low voice, cheeks now red as the embarrassment crept upon your face — "I don't have my mother's power."

Soldier Boy seems to not believe you for a mere second, after that you can feel the blade of the knife pressing against your skin, a threat that now becomes more real as you can feel the cold metal stomach. One swift movement and you'd be stabbed without a second thought.

It's sick how much you enjoy it when you are squirming against him, goosebumps in the zone he threats to destroy.

A force pull his lips upwards in a smile, unable to pay attention to nothing else but the sound you made without even realizing it. "You like that, huh little Nightshade?"

It seems to be a joke for him, bitting your inner cheek to prevent you from saying something stupid, from letting out a moan in response to all the sudden desire.

Despite all conditions you stay silent, holding his gaze like it's a game you're not going to lose. He didn't respond either, trapped in a second that seemed longer than the usual when time stopped around you, eyes looking like he can surpass the old fabric of the white shirt you choose to wear.

It's the tension what makes you mad. You're so into getting people like him, that your ego is bruised now that you notice you are actually attracted to all of that, to the way he's pressing you against the concrete, how all falls into place when he's pushing himself against you, invading any private space you could require.

He's kissing you soon after. Ben crumbles against the tension as the hand on your throat demands a kiss now, pulling you closer to his face without any warning nor concern as he crash his lips against yours in a rough kiss. You try to push him away in response even when you don't want to; see, it's hard to even admit you have interest in Soldier Boy in any other way more than the professional, but when he's bitting your lower lip you're letting your defense down: When is the last time you've been kissed like that?

You remind yourself you're tired from work, that the CIA has done nothing for you more than fuck your over and over even to this point, losing sight of one of the most important heroes of the word, and it's making you encourage to let go just for a mere hour.

"Lookin' so good takin' a bath" he says, and the sound of his deep voice is enough to send an electric wave through your spine, like he’s talking to himself as the hand on your hip is now tracing the curves of your body, taunting you from over the shirt he now learns to love. His beard is now scraping against your skin and you can feel his lips going down, tracing an invisible path to the crook of your neck as his hand is no longer choking you.

Jesus. Was that even happening or was that your imagination? Did you feel asleep on the bathtub? Maybe it’s a reflection as you are close to drowning, your brain doing that happy thoughts shit. You’re tilting your head to the side just to give him more space to work with and you’re just letting it be, enjoying how he’s sucking and nibling on your skin to leave a red mark behind, all teeth and no fucking control as he uses a good amount of force to make you moan in the process, the pain enough to remember who’s really on charge.

Ben forgets about asking any more questions, he’s too busy when his hand are taking decisions by themselves as they slide under your shirt, body still cold from the bath you just took, water still drying in your flesh when he’s like he usually is — An invader.

His hands are big and they’re capable of holding your whole tummy as he caress the soft skin that seems to expel a warm sensation, how it leaves goosebumps in any place he touches. You remember you’re basically at his mercy now that his hands roam with all liberty under your shirt, the look he gave you in the bathroom mistaken you for Stella, his eyes looking at any exposed skin he could look at.

“What the fuck,” you try to say under your breath, to keep on this facade you have of a composed person, one that won’t give in to be manhandled “What the fuck do you think you are you doing?”

“Well, i’m not seeing any complains” The blade cuts through the cotton leaving a large hole you know you won’t be able to sew after yet he’s right: There are no complains, nothing but eager that makes him go further as the seconds passed “In fact, can see that you’re pretty much enjoying it, Doll.”

You hate the nickname, that old man way of speaking when he’s squeezing one of your breasts with more force you can even handle, cursing at how easy it seems to be for him, how he wants to see you simply destroyed.

“You’re loving this isn’t?” he ask all sudden, studying you with his hazel eyes — “You love being a good whore f’me? My little Nightshade.”

He’s hard under the suit, covered in a green material you don’t know how to call as your hand searches for him, crave for him, convincing that it's what you must do as you trace the invisible lines his muscles made.

Soldier Boy’s messy, much like an animal when he’s groaning beneath your touch, his own body seeking for yours as your fingers grew bolder, demanding for a deeper contact — “Careful there sweetheart, i’m still fresh out of the oven. May be a little rusty."

You laugh at his words cause you know what he means, yet your hands work by themselves as you barely even touch him from over the suit, the hard feeling of his cock against your palm, hips buckling against your hand seconds after seeking for you, eyes shut for a couple of seconds.

“M’being careful” you say, catching yourself stealing a look at his reaction, taking your time on pleasuring him , gulping as he experiences the torture of your touch “Taking it slow for an old man.”

“Old man, huh? Now you're talking” He teases, and the sound of his laugh just fucks you up. Maybe it has to be with the fact he’s placing two fingers in front of your lips while looking at you, swollen pink lips he’s so fixated for a second, or it’s because he is, indeed, way older than you are — “Spit.”

It’s not a command, but it sounds like one as you’re unable to disobey, quickly spitting in his hand as you can visibly see the traces of saliva leaving a wet residue in your chin, one Ben looks at it for a good amount of time: How is something like saliva is so damn erotic? He doesn’t know it, but it’s enough to send him into a spiral.

He’s strong you think, cause he’s a superhero. He’s Soldier Boy by any meaning, so it’s not a big effort to hold you in his arms and lift you in the air as you let out a gasp of surprise, spanking your ass as one of his hands separates your legs for him, holding one up as you stand in the other.

“Relax, 'got you, doll” he says, your back against the wall as he kept a bruising grip in your hip, holding you in place so you don’t have to keep your balance — “Fuck you smell so damn good.”

The roses and vanilla aroma lingers on your skin as you finally understand what he's doing now, his hand close to your cunt as he taunts you, torturing you like you did so eagerly before, his personal pet as his digits get lost in your entrance now, your folds spilled with juice he can physically feel in his fingertips, your arousal's so nice against the palm of his hand he cannot help but kiss you, a feverish desire taking over his actions, the lewd sound his fingers made when he finally pushes his digits inside of you, velvety walls welcoming him as they seemed to squeeze him already — He has made such a good job on turning you on, it’s impossible to not react when he’s finally touching you, pumping into you in a constant pace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, the look on your face is enough to make his cock twitch in his pants in response, imagination running wild as he thinks about that very same feeling in a much deeper way, how you’d look now stretched out, crying just like you did when he choked you asking for information — “Such a nice cunt, so wet f’me.”

He's looking at you, holding the image in his mind forever: Pink pussy displayed for him, white t-shirt rising over your chest, lifting your leg over his arm as his muscles flexed by the force he's using to fuck you deliberately, your lips parted as you ask for more in between erratic moans as his fingers curved inside you so he can hit that nice place he can reach with no effort at all, that one spot thats makes you moan louder.

"Ah-fuck" you let out. Ben's all about touching you for what it seems an eternity, thumb grazing against your clit when he's plainly torturing you, testing how much patience you have left now that he has full control of you.

"Don't cum," he demands, your heartbeats are louder by the seconds as he lifts you slightly, lips attacking your neck before the words escape from his mouth "Need you to come undone in my cock first."

He's leaving marks, marks you don't remember how to hide but don't bother you at all, touching you as he pleases you, taking all the time in the world cause it seems like the night belongs to him — Getting started as you shake your head in an improvised yes.

Yes. The thought is pure electricity, the sudden need to please him as you shake your head once again.

“Please Ben,” you don’t recognize what you’ve become now. “Please let me cum in your cock.”

"Go on doll, put on a show f'me" the supe says with a grin you cannot resist. "Bend and show me that lovely ass."

It’s all it takes. His fingers are now away from you, but you’re now facing the wall as you obey, bending until your cheek is pressed against the concrete and you can hear how he’s now unzipping his pants, the green fabric of his suit now to the side.

You look at him from over your shoulder, bitting the your lower lip as you check him out, his slightly curved dick pointing upwards, precum already leaking out.

“Like what you’re seeing or what?”

“Yeah, but there’s no fucking way.”

You’re feeding on his ego now, but you can’t help it when his size is far from what you consider it’s common — “Common’ doll. You can hadle it.”

You gulp in response cause you know you’re more than eager to try, just the sight of his own hand holding his lenght as he strokes himself making you drool in response. Fuck. It transforms in a need now. When he positions himself beneath you and he’s spitting down to that very place where he’s pushing against your hole, saliva coating his cock before just letting the tip inside.

Lubricated, he pushes a bit more and it feels just damn right. Even when it begans to hurt as he’s thick enough to force himself inside you.

Benjamin knows you’re in pain so he waits a second before shoving his cock inside one more time. You need some time as he stretches you out, clenching your teeth while he works.

"You're doing it s'good" he praises, hand massaging your back as he prevents himself from fucking you at his liking, “Takin' me like a champ."

"God" you let out a sharp moan moments after, crying when you felt the pain more than anything else — "Can't-"

"No doll" he hums as he pulls slightly more. “You can do this” he forces himself in until he's finally balls deep inside your cunt, letting you adjust to his size as he can feel fucking everything. Your blood flow, your velvety walls that squeeze him unused to someone as big as he was, your face distorted in what seems an intense mix of pain and pure, devastating pleasure — "Atta girl."

Strikes like lighting.

Soldier Boy's bitting your shoulder-blade as he waits, waits for it to switch into pleasure, to become intoxicating to the point you cannot longer remember your own name.

"Please move," you ask sooner than he thinks, and when he moves, you can feel it in your belly, melting your fucking brain as he repeated the process again, burying his cock as deep as he could go without any previous warning — "Ah, just like that, please-"

"Do you like how my cock is stretching you out now?" Ben's voice is way deeper than what usually is as he laughs, grunting behind you as one of his hands reach a fistful of your hair, grabbing it with force to pull your head backwards "Good girl, keep huggin' my cock."

You're drunk on the feeling, on the vibrations his voice sends every time he's saying something dirty for you, when he laughs victim of the pleasure.

"Gonna' keep you as my personal slut," he thinks out loud, pushing you against the wall every time he fucks you, using his other hand to spread one of your ass cheeks to the side so he can hit it harder. "Use you as my fucking pet so I can cum on your pretty face whenever I want."

He's moaning, your body’s sweaty as he pulls your hair without caring, not concentrated on the pain it produces as his hips continue on collide against you.

"Would you like that, little Nightshade?" he asks then in a low voice, his thumb pressing against your asshole as he fucks you harder now that you're used to his size. "Could get used to this pretty cunt. Promise to keep my cock whore nice and full."

It doesn't take long. Soldier Boy's moans are now filling the room as his pace becomes faster, slurred words between his erratic breathing when the hand on your hair comes up to finally grab you by the neck, like he can read your mind cause it's exactly what you need to get there, to experience by first hand a set of crashing waves that were getting more and more intense on your stomach.

You're close to the edge. He can smell it in the air when the sound of your skin slapping against his is loud enough to be all you can hear, mixing with the lovely moans you produce when he’s pounding into you with no mercy, fingers pressing the side of your neck with enough force you’re running out of breathe.

It’s messy, violent and you love it, love how he’s ruining you all sudden, fucking you up from the inside, making your vision turning dizzy in response. You’re immersed in the haze he’s driven you into before admiting:

“God i’m so fucking close.”

“Cum on my cock,” it sounds like he’s begging you to do it, fingers finding their way to your swollen clit to move against the sensitive flesh “Come on doll, leave me full of you.”

He’s making you move now, hands now controlling your hips as you take him as his liking, mere seconds until you’re finally crumbling, violently shaking as you finally reach your peak. He keeps on fucking you through your high, long enough so he’s pulling out all of sudden, stroking his lenght over you as his cum finally lands on your back leaving you convered with his load.

Fucking hell.

When you’re coming down from your orgasm shame seems to hit you hard, however for Ben is not enough when he’s kneeling on the floor, eyes on the mess his cock made out of you.

“Wanna go again, little Nightshade?” he asks curiously, and the question makes you laugh in response, forgetting about formalities and the trouble it meant you were intimate with Soldier Boy out of all the supes in the world.

“Hm,” you seem to think about it for a second, his breathing close to your wet pussy as he’s still wearing his clothes in contrast of you being so exposed — “But you’re keeping the suit on.”

He don’t have any complains when he’s the one pressing his face against your wet folds.

Funny thing is now when you’re forced to join the Boys days after that very encounter — A bad joke when you’re now babysitting Soldier Boy himself.

“Been missing you s’much little Nightshade” he admits after a couple of minutes alone in the filthy motel “Thinking about how cute you are, how you felt taking my cock so nicely in your living room.”

“Fuck off, Ben.”

“We’ll be quick” he promises “That stupid assholes back there wont even notice.”

You seem to think about it for a second before lifting your middle finger in response — “I said fuck off, Ben.”

For now, it’s enough for him that you’re thinking about it.

my masterlist

HIS CHILD SEES YOU GET HIT ON

characters: sanzu. ran. rindou.

☰ㅤ HARUCHIYO AKASHI : SANZU

himiko pointed up onto a shelf with a beam, “ get that cereal— daddy and i like it. “

you smiled down at your daughter then nodded, “ i know, you and your father make me get it all the time during grocery runs ‘member? “ which made himiko stick her thumbs up at you then began to curiously glance around the aisle, pausing at a man who was staring at you.

himiko tugged on your sleeve then whispered, “ some man is looking at you, mommy. “

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forbidden love au brain rot: where shouto is the heir apparent of an enemy kingdom, and he found out you were sent by your father to befriend him and then poison him while your family will attack their land, and shouto is absolutely infuriated, shaking and screaming with tears from his bloodshot eyes, not at the fact that you were going to have your father kill enji todoroki but at the fact that you were going to leave him after he got a glimpse of the realest love he has ever tasted, even though it was but an illusion and impure deceit

'you're telling me that after 2 months, my adoration is still cheaper than that asshole of a father's blood? how about my blood? is it cheaper? is it filthier? do I mean nothing? am I a mere distraction? am I not even worth a god damn tear from your eye? excuse my language princess, but I'm fucking enraged.'

masterlist

party 4 u // touya todoroki

when it's not a party unless he's with you.

a/n: hi 😀😀😀 written portion kinda pornographic but also kinda not lmaaoooooimsosorry

the click of your bedroom door barely wakes you from your fever induced haze. you fall in and out of consciousness for a minute to the rustling of keys and clothes until his voice draws you awake.

"m'sorry, baby." the slurred words slipped out of touya's mouth.

he's too loud for this hour- too loud for your condition. you almost let yourself believe that you're dreaming until the cold bedroom brings goosebumps to your bare skin as the comforter is pulled away from under your nose.

before the groan could escape your parted lips, you feel his swollen lips meet with the temple of your forehead, trailing down to the side of your jaw.

"you said you wouldn't bother me," you mumble, turning on your back and finding the silhouette of his figure standing beside your bed and bent over you.

"missed you too much," he lowly says, matching the volume of your whisper.

touya reaches down and cups your cheeks in his hands, swiping his thumb back and forth against the tender skin under your eyes. "and you're burning up. what kind of a boyfriend would i be if i didn't come take care of you?"

"the kind of boyfriend that lets me sleep." you whine.

touya shakes off his jacket and tosses it onto the floor, ready to crawl into bed with you until he's stopped by your palm lying flat against his chest.

"no outside clothes in bed." you groan, rubbing the crust from your eye with one hand, and using the other to prop yourself up. "why do i always have to remind you?"

he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he peels his t-shirt up over his head, building onto the pile of clothing he started on the floor beside your bed.

"such a fuckin' princess even on your deathbed."

"you wish i was on my deathbed." you croak out, shooting him a side glance once your eyes had adjusted to the dark.

after stripping himself down to his boxers, he crawls on top of you, pulling the comforter over your bodies with him.

"you're so fucking warm," he purs against your neck, gently pushing you down onto your back and peppering your skin with hot kisses.

"i hate you," you mutter, accepting the heat absorbing through your front where you two made contact. "how much did you drink tonight, huh?"

"wouldn't you like to know?" he huffed a chuckle, letting the exhale of his breath brush against your collarbone. "lost every drinking game though, if that answers your question."

"figures." your voice falters into a faint whisper as your eyes fall shut.

touya lets his cold hands roam the skin under your pajama shirt. he knows you hate when he warms his freezing cold appendages against you, but between the sickness fogging your brain, the light suction of his mouth against your neck, and him trailing his flushed palm up and down your waist with his thumb stopping just millimeters short of your chest, you could barely focus on being annoyed.

"touya,” you breathe out. “it’s late. go to sleep.”

he removes his face from the crook of your neck and prop his elbows up beside your head, caging you in under him. your eyes open to see him illuminated by the streetlights seeping in from the crack in between your blinds.

cerulean eyes- bloodshot, lidded, and staring down at your own.

“i haven’t seen you all day.” he pouts, the rasp in his voice cracking in between his words.

“i saw you in class this morning.” you roll your eyes.

“i haven’t kissed you all day.” he corrects.

“my body hurts, my throat is killing me, i have a fever, i have your dumbass texting me and breaking into my apartment in the middle of the night, and you’re sad and pouty that you haven’t gotten a kiss from me all day?”

“exactly, but don’t forget,” he smirks, leaning in to press his lips onto yours, “i was a brave boy for you tonight.”

touya kisses you with fervent desire- a day’s worth of missing you was enough to disregard the sickness that would surely have him bedridden like yourself within the next couple of days.

“so brave, touy,” you huff in defeat. "so brave for willingly getting sick for the sake of getting your dick wet.” you tease in between kisses.

“and don’t expect me to take care of you when that does happen.” you say once he breaks away, pressing open-mouthed hot kisses down the column of your neck, your collar bones, the valley in between your chest, and then to the middle of your abdomen where your t-shirt had ridden up.

touya moved further down- kicking the comforter off to the side and leaving you with goosebumps crawling across your bare arms and stomach.

“you taking care of me?” touya almost laughs.

he glides a hand down to your pajama shorts, giving your inner thigh a harsh squeeze before hooking a finger through a leg hole and out the other, pulling it to the side.

"fuck," he whispers under his breath.

with a slow exhale hissing between his teeth, he finally looks up to meet your eyes.

“be brave for me, okay? you know i'll always take care of you.”

-

touya tag: @kaldurahms-lover @moonchild701 @themultifandomgirl @devilslittlehelper @porusuniverse @ratatellie @katbug37 @ggriwm @moonlitmorganite @touyas-wife @bitchyfestivalbouquet @haruhi269 @celtyshiftingrealitiddies

mha tag: @lotuslovers @babylambdietcoke @0skullyard0 @kaldurahms-lover @commonmisery @moonstonejpg @twoplayergaymers @simp-plague @xvilluis @haruhi269

𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 + 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅𝐅

BNHA VERSION HERE

includes: hanma shuji, ryuguji ken, haitani ran, hanemiya kazutora, sano shinichiro

tags: nsfw 18+, minors don’t interact, male masturbation, brief mention of blood (ran after a fight)

notes: i added tora just for kc so you better see this kc >:(

✰ 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 hates that he can’t come home to you right now, hates that his meeting in fifteen is going to last long into the night, hates that he has to wait—because he needs you now. his buttons fly open and his zipper is pulled down as he frees his cock, standing tall and dribbling with pre cum at the tip while he hisses from the cool air. he hears the sound of your voicemail greet him, and a vein all but pops at how everything seems to be going the opposite of how he needs it. “baby, you should’ve picked up,” he groans, stroking his cock fast, tight, desperate. “can’t stop thinking about you, or the way your pussy feels,” he rasps, and he tries to copy the way you always touch him, tries to mimic the way your thumb slides through his slit, the way your free hand massages his balls, the way you squeeze at the tip a little tighter at each upstroke. his breath is ragged, panting harshly into the phone as he lets out a sweet whimper—and any other day, he’d be mad you have evidence of such a sound falling from his lips, but today, he simply doesn’t care. “shit, gonna cum, wish i could’ve filled you up,” he chokes, and then his head falls back against his chair and his curls fall loosely onto his forehead as he cums in thick spurts, moaning into the speaker as his cock twitches with each rope that shoots past his sensitive tip. “not the same without you,” he grumbles as he catches his breath, “gonna cut the meeting short today.”

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i’m drooling over hawks so bad its not funny.

god just imagine him pressing you into the bed, fucking you so hard your legs tremble in his grip as he holds them open. he’s got a small gold chain on his neck that bounces with his thrusts, sparkles when it catches some of the morning sunlight through the curtains.

the way his large hands move across your skin, his right hand moving to grab at the slight softness at your hips. and he’s so vocal, making the most gorgeous sounds as he pounds you into the bed.

you rub your clit furiously, back arching off the bed, jaw dropping. “baby, fuckin’ cum for me, please.” he sounds so unbelievably desperate, hands alternating so he can spread your legs impossibly wider. his hips keep their strong pace, faltering only when you start to clench down around him.

his wings beat wildly behind him, the curtains holding onto their rods for dear life. “oh, fuuuck,” he groans deeply, “you feel so good, dove. so tight.”

“keigo, i’m gonna cum,” you whine loudly, pussy fluttering on his cock as your head falls back. “wan’ you to cum with me!”

“of course, dove, i’m so close—” he gasps, chest heaving, hips thrusting with much less control than before. keigo’s deep inside you, his body burning with the need to cum, the need to fill you up. the sound of his wings grows louder, the feathers cutting through the air as though it were butter.

you let out a loud, lengthy moan as your orgasm hits you and you clench down on his cock. heat sparks through you as your hole spasms uncontrollably.

“ohhh, i’m cumming baby—” keigo’s head falls back and his eyes squeeze shut, his whole body going still as he cums deep inside you. his wings have stilled completely too, spread out behind him majestically.

when he finishes riding out his high with a few shallow thrusts, he leans forward to lift you up and against him, hugging you tightly and kissing your neck. he turns to lay on his back, his wings finally at rest.