✶ Nuclear Seasons, [ Soldier Boy X Reader ]
✶ 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+
![✶ Nuclear Seasons, [ Soldier Boy X Reader ]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/fcd5c924ddefcd1ede9ebf839424247a/3043917e1db1179c-ac/s500x750/9a359343d51442029454678e9b2cb2d6326a0f27.gif)
![✶ Nuclear Seasons, [ Soldier Boy X Reader ]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/ada701f7db2797d9d9e4642a15e4310c/3043917e1db1179c-f7/s500x750/6d492874a0c6181cea7d15112046c34960d22a69.png)
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
More Posts from Outleak and Others
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Haitani Rindou/Lana Del Rey - Meet me at the pale moonlight
I found a wheel decider app or whatever and I put a few random songs from my playlists with a few TR characters in another wheel. I decided to write imagines with the songs and characters I’ll get from the wheels.
A masterlist for what’s more to come
Childhood enemies to teenagers in love, a few swear words, Rindou is an asshole and a bully, Y/N is smart, the words “sucking dick” are mentioned once but that’s about all.
Haitani Rindou x gn!reader. 1.9k words
Understand this, I been likin' you since I was small / I'm the sweetest girl in town so why are you so mean?
Haitani Rindou was always mean. When he was just a kid he would make fun of other children, push them off of swing sets and slides, he would throw sand at them and push them around. He was a bully and no kids ever tried to stop him. Even if the kid’s on the playground would go and cry to their moms and moms did try and discipline him, he would never listen. And Ran didn’t care enough to try and do anything about it. After all he was only one year older and didn’t know any better. He even found it amusing and entertaining.
Even though Rindou bullied everyone, you were his main target. He hated how pure and innocent you were. He hated how you always smiled at everyone and tried to be friends with every single kid. He hated your voice, your laugh, your stupid face. Just hearing your name made him cringe.
He was the meanest kid in school when he started first grade. The bullying got worse and everyone tried to avoid him. He sat alone in all classes and sometimes even during lunch. His table was empty, besides the days when Ran was with him. You, unfortunately, were classmates. And what was even worse was that you sat in front of him. That was a complete accident. He came in last on the first day of school and the only empty seat was behind you. He poked your back, put trash into your backpack and kick your seat. He made sure to make every single day of yours in that school - hell.
Once middle school started, you moved seats. You sat further away from Rindou and for some reason that annoyed him. He was mad that he didn’t see your face in front of him anymore. Instead he started seeing the ugliest guy in class, in his opinion. On his face there were often boogers, he always had extremely messy hair, his clothes were always dirty, because him and his friends liked to play outside. Rindou thought it was stupid. They weren’t children anymore so what was the point of that? Going back to the topic of you, Rindou was sure that even though you escaped him for now, he’d still manage to ruin your days. He looked for you during breaks. He pushed you into lockers, he made sure that you’d trip in front of everyone and he even stuck his gum on your school uniform. Though at the end of middle school, Rindou disappeared. It left you with both shock and satisfaction. Turns out he was in juvie for killing someone with his brother. After that, you started fearing your all time enemy Haitani Rindou.
When high school started, Rindou wasn’t alone anymore. He was friends with the older and younger guys who were nothing but trouble. He became a well known delinquent and ruled Roppongi with his older brother Ran. Now whenever you’d walk in the halls you’d see the scariest group in school. It consisted of the Haitani brothers, Mochizuki Kanji, Kurokawa Izana, Kakucho, Hanma Shuji, Kisaki Tetta, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Shion Madarame and Muto Yasuhiro. Rindou didn’t bully you as much anymore. Mostly because he wasn’t in school as often. So it was just your luck. Though when he was in school his teasing was worse than before, since his new friends would laugh at you and make snarky comments too. You’d just throw a small smile their way, or grip your bag and walk past them whilst looking at the school’s corridor tiles that would all of a sudden grab your interest. You never knew what caused this hatred for the younger Haitani. Of course he treated everyone with malice. But you were treated even worse. After all when you both were children you liked him a lot and tried to be his friend too. But all he ever did was make fun of you.
Today was different than the other days. Rindou was alone the moment he saw you in the corridor and so were you. And it wasn’t only that, no. There were only the two of you which made you tense up. You were always one of the first students to show up in school since you had to take the first bus there. But what was the Haitani doing here so early too? Once you saw a smirk show up on his face you let out a sigh.
“What a freak. Not only are you a teachers pet, you’re always so early here.” He snorted. “Do you suck the teacher’s dicks or something? That’s probably why your grades are so high, huh.” He started tapping his jaw with his pointer finger, pretending to be deep in thought.
“What did I ever do to you..?” You mumble.
“Huh? Speak up, dumbass.” He gritted his teeth.
“Why are you so mean to me?!” You yell while poking his chest with your finger. “All I’ve ever done is be nice to you and your stupid brother. I’ve never said one bad thing about either of you. So what the hell is your issue?!” Your voice was becoming louder by the second. You were tired. You’ve already gone through enough. “Fuck you, Haitani. You and all of your stupid little friends. You all suck.” You turned around and left him standing alone. After that Rindou and his friends didn’t bother you anymore.
When you turned seventeen, you were one of the prettiest people in school. Boys and girls adored you, your looks and your personality. Everyone wanted to be your friend and your lunch table was never empty. Almost every single day there were different people around you. There was even a fan club made for you in school. People would give you love letters every week and you received many gifts from your admirers. Haitani Rindou though was never at school. As much as you knew - he was roaming around the streets of Japan with his gang known as Tenjiku. Of course it had all of his buddies there and they were getting bigger by the day. Sometimes to pass his grades, he’d randomly pop up in school. You’d walk into maths and he wouldn’t be there, but he’d be in the next period. Sitting alone, looking at his phone. Sometimes a random friend of his would walk into the class during break time and they’d talk about the violent things they did the day before, making sure everyone heard. He never bothered you, but to your surprise he started talking to you. It started with a greeting once he’d see you and then it got to small conversations that he’d try to initiate. This year, you once again had to sit in front of him. But instead of bullying you, he’d give you small notes asking about your day, he’d compliment your perfume or jewellery. And with pure confusion and suspicion you’d talk back to him.
At the age of eighteen you both became kind of friends. He’d walk with you in the school halls and the both of you sometimes even sat together at lunch (though when that did happen, none of your friends dared to sit with you. They were too scared of Haitani Rindou and there would only be the two of you there. Not like you blamed them). It was friday when your classes ended and you walked out of school alone, after waving everyone goodbye and having small talk with the random people that stopped you before you left. You started walking towards your bus stop when something caught your attention. Rindou was yelling your name while sitting on his bike in front of his friends. That made you feel anxious and you stood in one place, frozen. Would your friendship with the Haitani end so soon? You knew it was weird how fast he changed. It was all too good to be true. Your thoughts were disturbed when the sound of a bike sounded way closer than it should.
“C’mon I’ll give you a ride home, (L/N).” Rindou smiled at you.
“Huh?” You turned your head to the side and you could swear you hear a quiet ‘cute’ leave his mouth.
“I’ll drive you home. There’s still an hour left before your bus comes, right?” He looks straight into your eyes. Behind him you could see his brother snd friends smirking and that made you feel even more uncomfortable. Rindou turned around to see what you were looking at and let out a groan. “Don’t worry about them. That’s just the way they are. You can trust me, you know that right? Sit down.” He patted the seat behind him. You let out a shaky breath and nodded.
“Fine. But don’t try anything stupid, Haitani.”
“Would never dream of it.” He grabbed onto your sweater and pulled you closer. After that your vision was dark for a second as he put on a helmet on your head.
That day you realised how fun it was to ride a bike. As you held onto his waist you felt free. Like you were on a magical cloud. The wind was caressing your body and everything felt so great. The adrenaline was running throughout your whole body and it made your senses heightened. You were introduced to a whole new world and Rindou could only smile while looking at you through the small mirror attached to his motorcycle.
At summer Rindou asked you to go the Sumidagawa Fireworks Festival* with him. You asked why he didn’t want to go with his brother and friends, but his answer was short. “I want to spend it with you.” To that you only nodded and agreed to go with him. That day he showed up in front of your house with his bike and took the both of you to the festival. You bought some food and drinks and hung out for a while, before the fireworks began. After some thinking he took you to a more discreet place, but he promised you that you’d still see the fireworks from there. The both of you sat in an abandoned parking lot that was on a hill and you asked him how he’d even find this place. “Me and my brother found it a while ago. We like to come here when we feel like running away from the world.”
And when they did start, you were in awe. Everything looked like it was from a fairy tale. And as the fireworks painted the sky in many different colours, Rindou’s gang jacket was around your shoulders and so was his arm.
“Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” You smiled at him.
“Can I kiss you?” He whispered while looking at you. Rindou looked scared and he was. He didn’t want to ruin whatever he had with you. After all he was an asshole to you for so long and he was glad that you’ve managed to forgive him.
“Yeah.” You nodded slowly. “Yeah, you can.”
His hand reached the back of your head and pulled you close. Once your lips touched it felt like the world went quiet. Like you just finished a puzzle by putting the last two pieces together. And as the two of you parted from the kiss, the sky was flashing in many different colours. Rindou could swear that you were still far more beautiful than any view. So he did what he felt was right and leaned in for a second kiss.
———
*It’s one of Tokyo's largest and most urban fireworks displays
the pull of you
cw: 1.7k wc, female reader, NSFW, highly suggestive, hinata is your closest friend natsu's younger brother, on a night out you end up learning he grew up to become ever the charismatic flirt who's always kinda had a thing for you :)
The first time you see Hinata Shoyo again, you’re both older but he’s much different.
It’s not that you haven’t thought about him ever after high school. His bright, juvenile presence came to mind whenever you’d text or meet up with your best friend, the memory of the afternoons spent in the room adjacent to his still so dear to your heart. Natsu, ever so proud of her little brother, never missed a chance to update you on his life either. The adventure in Rio and beach volleyball, all the efforts put in understanding an entirely new, different version of the sport he’s always loved. How he accepted a part-time job as a delivery guy, tried his best to learn a difficult foreign language, all while trying to juggle homesickness, inexperience, a distant roommate and a shift in his reality that almost made him drop everything and book a flight back to Japan.
But then Shoyo adapted, just like you and Natsu guessed he would. Because it’s what Shoyo did. And now he shines bright for Tokyo, Japan, the entire world to see.
When your best friend demanded you’d be ready as she was going to bring a surprise, you never would’ve guessed her little brother was going to be it. Last time you saw him, he was a 5’4 teenage boy jumping around with nothing but volleyball on the brain. While apparently his height hasn’t exponentially grown, everything else sure as hell did.
The rounded table is far too little for three people to be sitting around it and while this was supposed to be a regular friday night out with Natsu (drinks on her), it’s turning out to be something completely different.
Hinata is sitting close enough for his knees to be touching yours and at every subtle bump you can’t help but think of how hard and thick the legs wrapped in those dark jeans seemed right before he sat down. Everything else you don’t really have to imagine, it’s pretty much laid out for your eyes to see: his shoulders look scandalously strong in a plain t-shirt, chest oh so wide, swollen biceps and muscles all over that keep bulging and swelling at each subtle movement. And then there’s his smile, a charming grin or one barely outlined crescent, filled with beaming confidence and dangerously flirty.
Because he is flirting.
Eyes shamelessly fixed on you as the conversation between you two just flows. And Natsu doesn’t seem to be the least bit worried about her annoying little brother (who used to also kinda be your annoying little brother) being so interested in asking you questions and ignoring whatever gossip she has about her perfect boyfriend.
“I’m just sayin’” Natsu sways in her seat a little, cheeks pink and a few tangerine strands escaping her bun only to stick to her forehead “the secret to a healthy relationship is communication. And great sex”
“Natsu” you gracefully push a glass of water toward her but it gets brutally ignored as she takes another sip of her drink “may I remind you that your little brother is literally sitting here? He can hear you”
“We talk about everything” he shrugs “I always know every disgusting detail in sickening accuracy”
Your friend giggles. “True. And I do too. You see” she winks at you “he’s not so little anymore, is he? How’s your girlfriend, Sho? The one we could hear”
“Jesus, I’m not drunk enough for this conversation” you bring the beer to your lips and take a generous swig, condensation cool against the pads of your fingers.
“We broke up” for some reason, he’s looking at you as he replies and relaxes back into his chair.
“Aw, what a shame” Natsu’s cheerful tone doesn’t quite match her pout “that makes two of you”
“Thanks a lot” you grimace. So much for the confidentiality of the secret shared a few days back, one not even your own mother is yet aware of. It's your fault for letting her drink, really: the years spent with her in college clearly haven’t been a fruitful lesson.
“Nothing to be ashamed of” she clicks her tongue in disapproval “he was an idiot. Who the fuck refuses to…”
“Don’t”
“… pleasure their girlfriend?”
“Oof” Hinata tries to drown the chuckle into his own bottle “that’s why you broke up with him? Fair game”
“Since apparently we’re sharing everything” you sigh, exasperated “he broke up with me”
“Asshole” Natsu shakes her head in disbelief “you were together for so long, too. High school sweethearts. Remember him, Sho?”
“Ah, yeah” he cocks his head a little “Sasaki, was it? Wouldn’t have guessed it went on, that guy never seemed to be a great match for you”
“Man, you used to hate him” Natsu mischievously hides her chuckle behind her hand when she turns to look at you to whisper “Shoyo had such a devastating crush on you!”
“Natsu!” he groans and this time you’re not the only flustered one at the table, as crimson blossoms on his cheeks you finally get a glimpse of the Hinata you remembered. You offer a lenient smile.
“I knew”
His eyes are on you in a second, lips parted and brows knit in surprise “what? Really?”
“Yes, Shoyo” it feels good to utter his name somehow, it weighs comforting and familiar on your tongue “you weren’t exactly great at hiding whatever was on your mind back then”
“Still bad at that” there’s something in the way he says it, in the way he holds you level in his serious stare that makes you all too aware of his knees still warmly pressing to yours. God, he’s attractive. And the worst part is that he clearly knows.
“I need to go to the bathroom” Natsu interrupts the brief staring contest between you two “please keep an eye on my drink” she rises from her seat, a little unstable. You reach out to support her by the elbow.
“Let’s go together, I can-”
“I need you to keep that safe” she indicates her half empty glass “he’s already thinking of stealing my drink, I can feel it” Natsu narrows her eyes at her brother and he raises his hands in defense, amused. You sigh as you watch her stumble toward the back of the pub, where the bathroom is.
“I never understand if I need more alcohol or less, whenever I go out with her” Hinata’s good natured comment makes you chuckle.
“You could’ve spared yourself the agony, tonight. I’m used to it by now” you absentmindedly drum your fingers on the side of the empty bottle you’re still holding.
“I’m glad I came” he takes a sip from his own beer “I haven’t seen you in so long. You haven’t changed”
You scrunch your nose at that. “Really? I was a teenager the last time you saw me”
“Yeah” Shoyo agrees with a little smile as he quietly takes your features in, gaze lingering on your lips as he replies “you’re still just as beautiful. Always wasting your time on people who should be thanking their lucky star you’ve as little as glanced in their direction”
There’s no reasonable way to explain the shudder that runs down your spine, the tense sensation tugging at your stomach when you lean closer to him over the table.
“And you grew up to be such a charmer” the smile you toss at him is incredulous and maybe a little teasing. As if he was waiting for that, Hinata bites and leans closer in turn.
“What is it that he didn’t want to do?”
You scoff but it’s playful, evokes a smile. “C’mon, you can tell me. It’s just me”
“He never went down on me” your tone is almost challenging, as if you’re daring him to laugh or take the piss.
However, Shoyo remains serious, with only genuine surprise evident in his hazel irises.
“But” he tries to make sense of the absurdity you just shared “he’s the only boyfriend you ever had”
“Correct”
“Does that mean no one has ever…”
“It means exactly that” you shrug, attempting to play off embarrassment as indifference “he thought it was gross. I never asked again”
In the end, Shoyo does laugh but the sound is unexpected, incredulous more than it is mocking. “Natsu was right. What an absolute loser” he smiles, confident in a way that is ridiculously attractive “some would kill for that opportunity”
You snort out a laugh in an attempt to mask how fast your heart is really beating “I think that’s a little extreme, I don’t know a single man who would kill to-”
“I would” Shoyo tilts his head as he studies your flustered features, imagination already running wild as he asks himself if you’d look the same while straddling his face.
“You don’t mean that”
“Oh, I mean that. I think you know exactly how much I mean that. I’m terrible at hiding what’s on my mind, after all” he gently unclasps your hand from around the beer bottle, places it on the table and turns the palm upwards, thumb tracing lazy figures on your wrist “I’ll tell you, if you want to know”
He’s not hesitating, only granting you a way out of the conversation. But do you want a way out? No one’s ever looked at you like that, with fierce determination burning behind warm, genuine affection. You know Hinata, he’s never been a liar and you doubt he’s grown to be one.
“I want to know” you find yourself murmuring, entranced by a stare that holds you hostage in the best way. He smiles, rough thumb applying the slightest pressure to your skin as it moves in circles.
“I’d first have you on my knees and against the wall. I’d want to see you, find out what makes your legs give out the quickest. I’m afraid that’s all the patience you’d get from me” his other hand sneaks beneath the table and closes around your knee, wide and warm “I’d turn you around, eat you out from behind until you can’t stand anymore, until I’d have to carry you to my bed and have you sit on my face to take what you need from me. I could go all night, have you cream on my tongue, on my face, over and over again. I’d make up for all the years you spent with that jerk, in one single night” and then maybe you’d never want to leave, he mentally adds. “I know you’d want that too” he says instead, mischievous glint in his eyes. Your mouth feels so dry.
“What makes you think that?” surprisingly, you manage to string give words together. Hinata smiles and he looks as beautiful as ever underneath the golden, dim lights of the pub.
“I can feel how hard you’re clenching your legs right now”
After a long date at one of your favourite restaurants, you two now rest all snuggled up with each other, his arms tightly secured around your figure while trailing soft kisses all over your neck. A sigh of content leaves your mouth, humming as a deep peace flourishes inside of your chest.
"That food was really good, baby," you say, fingers threading through his hair, a groan of satisfaction muffling against your skin. "You feelin' me? It was so..."
Looking down, you notice how he's stop pressing kisses to you and see how his chin is now propped above your breasts, a seductive glint in his eye. Before you could even question his behaviour, his lips part to speak, "Oh yeah? Well, baby I'm going to be feeling you up all night," he grins, moving to press a hot, wet kiss below your jaw.
"Sorry!?" you exclaimed, shock evident on your features, jaw to the floor at the sudden turn of conversation.
A hum rumbles from his mouth. "What?" he asks, completely oblivious to what he had just stated moments before.
You love your out of pocket man.
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 :: Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Manjiro (Mikey) Sano, Izana Kurokawa, Hanma Shuji, Kakashi Hatake, Shidou Ryusei, Oliver Aiku, Chuuya Nakahara, Potentially Dabi??, Keigo Tamaki (hawks), Bakugou Katsuki + more and all you favs !!
Inspired by this insta post ::here::
That’s your dad?!
Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Synopsis: Who knew your friends dad was so hot? And so….forward….
Warnings: VERY explicit smut. My mouth was watering as I wrote it. I need this man.
Word Count: 2.5k
Masterlist
“Megs, how come we’ve never seen your dad?”
The conversation went quiet at Nobara’s question as the room directed their attention to Megumi.
“Uh—well, he’s not around much.”
“Around much? He’s never around. And a good thing as well. He’s a douche.” Gojo’s comment earned a slap on the leg from you, making the grown man wince in pain.
“That’s still his dad. Be nice to your students. This is why I’m their favorite.”
“Okay back to the topic at hand, what does your dad look like?” Nobara pushed the topic, dying to know more about Mr. Fushiguro.
“I mean, like me I guess? Except older, covered in muscles and smug.”
“Ha! That’s an understatement.”
“What is, Gojo? That he has a lot of muscles? You jealous or something?” You teased the man, making him lift the side of his blindfold to eye you.
“You’re funny.”
Yuji laughed at his teachers expression, turning to beg to see a picture of Megumi’s dad.
“Well, he’ll be home soon. You guys can see him when he gets here.”
The excitement in the room only grew as time went on. Everyone wanted to see the infamous Toji Fushiguro.
Pretty soon, the students and you and Gojo lowered your voices down to whispers at the sound of heavy footsteps creeping down the hall.
“Meg, why the hell are there so many cars—” the man’s sentence was quickly cut off when he rounded into the room, tall frame bracing himself on the door frame. His tight, black shirt slightly rising above his waistline to display a strip of pale skin.
Your mouth watered.
“Yeah, sorry dad. My friends wanted to come over for a bit.”
His dads eyes scanned the room, meeting yours as a smirk tugged on his lips.
You shifted in your seat, eyes turning downward which drew a chuckle from the man’s lips as he swung his arms down from the doorframe. His large hands clapped together, slinging arms across his chest, causing his muscles to bulge.
“Well, nice to meet you brats. Gojo.”
“Fushiguro.” The man beside you didn’t hide the disdain in his voice. Annoyance dripping in his tone.
“Well, mind introducing me to these kids?”
“Yeah well you know Gojo. That’s Yuji and Nobara. Sitting beside Gojo is Y/N.”
The smirk on his face grew, eyes narrowing as he flicked his gaze back to you, a hand reaching up to rub across his chin.
“Y/N? Don’t think I’ve met this lovely lady. You a teacher?”
“Yep. She’s a newly graduated sorcerer. She’s great.” Gojo cut in.
“Mm, I bet.” Toji’s eyebrow raising at the statement.
The silence that fell over the room made you shift in your seat again.
“Well, I won’t intrude. You kids have fun.” The wink he sent was directed your way before he stalked off.
Your eyes never left his frame as he left. He was the perfect mix of tall, dark and handsome. Danger dripping off him. Something you liked in a man….
“Megumi, that’s your dad???” Nobara whispered through her teeth, swatting at the boys arm.
“Ow.”
“He’s so hot!”
“Ew! He’s Fushiguro’s dad! Don’t say that!” Yuji interjected. “Gojo, you hearing this?”
“I am. My ears are bleeding. Why do you think like this, Kugisaki?”
“Oh come on! Y/N, back me up here!”
You looked at the pleading girl and fought the smile that creeped onto your lips.
“Well, he is an attractive man.”
“See?! Your dad is a total DILF, Megumi.”
“Dilf?”
“Yeah, dad I’d love to fuck. Dilf.”
“Please don’t say that about him ever again.”
“Oh please, I bet even Y/N would fuck him. Wouldn’t you?”
Your eyes widened as you crossed your arms.
“Is that an appropriate question to ask you teacher?”
The girls shoulders dropped as her expression remained frantic. She pointed a finger at you and smiled.
“I know you totally would. I just so happen to know your type!”
Gojo sat up at this, uncrossing his legs to lean into the conversation.
“And that is?”
“Tall, dark, handsome, older…”
“What???” Gojo exclaimed, leaning forward in his seat as he slapped a hand on your leg, earning a slap back from you. “That’s LITERALLY me. Why don’t you date me?”
“You’re….you….” The dumb look on the man’s face made the kids crack up, Yuji falling over in his fit.
“Ha! Gojo Sensei, she told you!” Yuji said through his giggling fit.
“Yeah, well, it’s your loss.”
You rolled your eyes at the man, reaching over to pat his cheek. “Yeah, I’m sure it is. I need to pee, Megs, where’s the bathroom?”
“You can use the one upstairs. Second door on the left.”
You nodded and made your way out of the room, thinking about the man that had just stood in the same doorframe you just walked through.
He was so gorgeous. Long, black hair falling across his facial features. The scar on his lip only accenting his handsome face. The smirk making him look extra good.
You couldn’t get over how….big he was. Sure, Gojo was tall and handsome, but the beefy build of Fushiguro’s dad was just what you liked. Especially when the man wore form fitting tshirts and flaunted how big he was by holding onto the top of doorframes.
Once you stopped your daydreaming, you discovered you had made it to the top of the stairs, but you couldn’t remember where the hell Megumi said the bathroom was.
First door on the right? No, it was the third on the left, right?
You opened the first door you saw, jumping in shock.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!”
Toji stood from his bed where he sat shirtless, same smirk tugging at his lips.
“Oh you’re fine. Need help?”
“I-oh yes! I’m looking for the bathroom?”
The man tilted his head as he sized you up, smirking at your nervous expression.
“Second door—”
“On the left! I knew it! I’m terrible with directions.” You replied, cutting him off in the process.
“Yeah, well, you’re more than welcomed to just use mine.
You followed the direction of his pointed finger, walking in the direction of the closed door. You admired the way his muscles flexed from the motion, cheeks burning hot at his shirtless body standing five feet from you.
“Thank you, Mr. Fushiguro.”
“Call me Toji. I want all my good friends to call me by name.” His wink made your stomach flip.
“We’re friends?”
“I’d like it if we were.”
You gave him a small smile as you made your way to the bathroom, swiftly closing the door and leaning back against it. A hand flew to your forehead, brushing hair out of your face and moving down to cradle your hunting cheek.
You quickly finished your business, taking a deep breath before unlocking the door, only for it to be met with a broad chest before you.
Toji peered down at you, eyes hooded and clouded over with a mischievous look.
“You’re a very pretty thing.”
“Oh, we’ll thank you.”
Your fingers began to pick at the skin on your thumbs anxiously, wanting to escape this beautiful man. Not that you didn’t mind his presence, he was just very intimidating.
“Of course. Want to stay and chat? Have a little break from the kids?”
“Oh well, I should really be getting back.”
“Hmm, right, I’m sure your boyfriend will be missing a cute little thing like you.”
Your eyebrows furrowed at the comment, confusion written on your face.
“My….boyfriend?”
“Yeah, Satoru. You two seem close.”
You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head in denial.
“Oh, absolutely not! He’s just a friend. Well, he’s interested, but I’m certainly not. Never.”
The man chuckled, guiding you out of the bathroom and back into his room.
“That’s good news. Makes me feel less guilty for being curious about you.”
You stood in front of him, this tall frame blocking you from the door.
“Curious about me? Why?”
“Well, like I said,” he took a step closer to you, reaching a hand up to twirl a piece of hair around one of his thick fingers and sighed. “You are a very pretty woman.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
The piece of hair was twisted right around his finger, allowing him to deliver a tug to it, causing you to wince.
“Thanks, doll. You’re going to make an old man like me blush if you keep that up.”
His hand drifted from your hair to your neck, brushing the hair away and as gently as possible, he stroked a finger down the expanse of your neck and down your shoulder, stopping at your hand. He took your hand, lacing fingers with his as he took another step towards you to close the distance even further.
“You sure your friends would miss you? Let’s talk for a bit.”
You swallowed the thickness that was building in your throat, trying to relieve some pent up nerves.
This man impossible.
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”
“And why do you think that, hm?”
“Because I don’t think you are content with just sitting and talking.”
The man began to rub his thumb across your hand. His eyes stared deeply into yours, breath fanning across your face and blowing stray hairs back into place.
“Come on now, I don’t bite. That is, if you don’t want me to.” His hand lifted yours to his eye level, delivering a kiss to your palm, eyes never leaving yours.
“So that must mean you’re well trained?” You said, finally grounding yourself and shaking some of the nerves off. You’re a badass sorcerer, dammit. Why should you cower from him?
Or maybe your desires were starting to get the better of you.
“I don’t know about that. I’m not anyones dog. But, I bet you’d look good on all fours.”
You felt like you were going to explode. The sultry tone I’m his voice mixed with the hooded eyes that eyed you made you melt.
“So, what’s it going to be, Y/N? You staying or going?”
You could hear the giggles from down stairs from your friends. The walls were thin and you knew their suspicion would soon get the better of them if you didn’t come back soon.
But, Toji was standing before you in all his glory, wanting nothing more than to “spend more time with you.”
“What the hell, why not?”
“Perfect.”
He walked you over to the bed, making you sit as he laid down, propped against the headboard as he watched your arms cross in your lap.
“Make yourself comfortable. I told you, I don’t bite.”
You scooted closer to him, brushing shoulders at the closeness and smiled at him, making him sigh.
“So cute, but,” he leaned over, grabbing your hips and moving you so you sat in his lap, chest to bare chest. “This is what I meant. Isn’t this nice?”
You nodded, eyes flittering up to his. “I won’t complain.”
He sighed again, death grip still on your waist as he did.
“I should have visited the school sooner. Can’t believe I’ve been missing out on time with such a pretty girl. Megumi didn’t tell me how beautiful his teacher was.”
His hands shifted your hips, gently pushing you down to feel him beneath his pants.
You let out a sigh, mouth falling open as you felt the hardness beneath his pants.
“Toji….”
“Hm?”
“If you’re going to fuck me, you better do it quick. They are going to start wondering where I am.”
“Well, well. Don’t you have a nice mouth on you? As you wish, doll.”
His hand returned to its position on your neck, hand reaching around to weave into your hair and drag your face to his, both of your lips meeting for the first time. His mouth meshed with yours perfectly, working against each other in a slow, deep motion.
However, that didn’t last long. Once his hands worked their way down, squeezing your arms, then hips, then ass, you let out a gasp. This allowed him to sneak his tongue in, devouring you deeper.
He groaned as your hands found their way to him. One hand pulled his locks at the nape of his neck, the other digging nails into his bicep. His bare chest pressed into yours, pushing you back as his hands made their way down to your thighs and pulled you up.
Your lips parted for a moment as he literally tossed you on the bed, causing you to bounce against the springs and look at the man in shock.
“I’m going to enjoy this.”
His tone was deep and gravely from your kisses. His eyes had darkened, and they never left yours as his large frame crawled on top of yours, slotting himself between your thighs. His groan met yours, allowing you to feel his length that strained against the confines of his pants.
You let out a soft moan, hand coming to your mouth to silence you in fear that your friends would hear you.
“Ah, ah, ah.” He tutted you, pulling your hand away from your mouth. “If you can be quiet, I want to hear you. But you better keep your voice down. ‘“Less you want your little friends to hear you.”
His hips rolled into yours again, causing you to slide across the sheets at the force. His strength was amazing and your underwear dampened at the thought of how good his thrusts must be.
He captured your mouth in another kiss, hands working to take your clothes off, kiss only breaking for a moment as he pulled them off.
His eyes raked over your body, taking in every detail.
“Nice. Very nice, doll.”
His hands that caged your body under him were removed, only to find there way onto each side of your waist. They slowly ghosted up your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He’s hands reached your breasts, taking them into his large hands and squeezing. Another moan left your lips as he tweaked your nipples, pinching them between his callused fingers.
“You have the perfect pare of tits, you know that?”
You didn’t have the time to even think of an answer because his mouth was back on yours. This time, the pace was ravenous. His mouth was sloppy and overpowering, making you sink into the mattress beneath you. His mouth broke off from yours, kissing it’s way down your neck and chest to your breasts. He took each nipple into his mouth at a time, sucking and twirling his tongue, leaving your breasts shining in the faint light from the lamp.
“Toji, please—”
“Be patient. I know what you want. But you’re going to have to be. Patient.”
His domineering tone made your legs shake slightly. It sounded so good coming from him.
His tongue drug a stripe down from between your breasts, across your stomach and stopped right above your mound. You could see your chest rising and falling in anticipation, so ready for him to touch you already.
“Where do you want me, doll? Here?” He asked as he kissed right below your belly button.
“Here?” A kiss to the top of your right thigh.
You groaned, eyebrows knitting together as you shook your head.
“Or here?” His hands spread your thighs further, head between them as he kisses your inner thigh, inches from where you needed him. You could almost feel yourself leaking down to the bedsheets.
His eyes never left you as he lifted a hand to your naked core, thumb pushing through your folds to ghost over your opening to wet his appendage and slide it to your clit to rub in small circles.
“How about here? You like that?”
“Yes! Yes, Toji. Please I need you to touch me there.” 
“As you wish, doll. You’ve been so patient.”
His thumb continued to rub harsh circles on your clit, causing you to throw your head back. He drew a groan from your lips again when he moved his head down to add his mouth to the mix. His tongue came out to lick a stripe up your entrance, causing you to buck your hips into his face. He welcomed the force, letting out a chuckle that vibrated your pussy.
“Feels good, right?”
You nodded, even though you know he didn’t see it. His fingers switched places with his mouth, moving to make out with your clit as his fingers poked at your entrance. His tongue continued to lick long stripes, drinking every bit of you he could get.
Two fingers slipped in, causing you to whisper his name and buck your hips again. You felt his smile grow as he began to curl those fingers inside you, mouth and tongue never letting up.
Your high approached quickly, making your body feel hot as you reached a hand down to grip his hair.
“Toji, stop, I’m about to—bout to cum.”
He ignored you though, only adding another finger inside and to add more pleasure, pace remaining the same and drawing out a languid moan.
Your breath quickened as you panted, body burning with the need to cum. And your needs were answered when he hummed into your core, rattling you to the bones as your legs shook, squeezing around his head as you came on his fingers.
You didn’t have time to recover though, the man was desperate to be inside you. He pulled out of your hold, licking his fingers clean and wiping the his mouth on the back of his hand like a starved man after a delicious meal.
“Turn.”
His words didn’t quite reach you.
“Huh?”
Your panting chest was soon pressed into the bed as he flipped you, pulling your hips up so you were propped on your knees, back arched and on full display for him.
“Huh, I was right. You do look good on all fours.”
The man chuckled as you teased him, wiggling your hips to show your eagerness to have him inside you.
His hand slapped down on your ass, his chuckle filling the room as you jerked, pussy fluttering at his harsh delivery. His eyelids lowering as he admired the way your body reacted to him.
“You ready?”
As soon as your confirmation left your lips, his tip was pressed to your core, pushing in and pulling back out to rub against the length of your pussy.
“Hm, how about you beg? I want to hear how bad you want me.”
You were about to give him what he wanted when a knock sounded from the door, making your heart drop and eyes widen.
“Hey, Dad, have you seen Y/N? She had to go to the bathroom and hasn’t been back for a while.”
You winced are Megumi’s voice, but more so from how Toji had placed his dick at your entrance again, pushing past your folds slowly. You pushed your face into the sheets, begging whoever was listening to make Megumi leave and for you to keep quiet.
“Yeah, I talked to her. She wasn’t feeling well, she called a ride to take her home.”
He fully pushed in once he finished his sentence, tongue lobbing out at the feeling of your gummy walls fluttering around his length. You bit into your hand at the burning sensation, pain easing as you adjusted to his length. A good thing too, because he wasted no time in pulling out and sheathing himself back into you at a hard, slow pace.
“Oh, okay. She left her phone. Thanks.”
Once the footsteps disappeared down the hall, Toji leaned down over you, chest flush to your back as he pushed all the way into you, heavy balls slapping against your clit.
His breath fanned over your face as he moved your hair out of your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek only to lick a stripe across it after.
“That was close, huh? Your student almost caught his dad fucking his teacher.”
You moaned as his hand slid up your scalp, grabbing the roots of your hair and pulling your head back. He began to quicken his pace, deep thrusts fucking into your cervix.
Your walls stretched with each thrust, your slick coating his cock and leaving a ring of white around the base that dripped down to the bedsheets.
“That’s a good girl, you feel so good. You like my cock? Feel good?”
You let out a moan in reply, unable to form proper words as he shoved your head down, leaning forward to pound into you faster, pushing in impossibly deeper.
You felt the heat creep into your core again, traveling into your chest. Your entire body felt like it was on fire as he fucked you.
His left hand squeezed your hip, pulling you back to meet his thrusts as the other had you by the back of the neck, slightly squeezing as he pressed your head down.
“What a good little thing you are. You’ll have to come over more often.”
Both of you neared your highs, Toji’s thrusts began to become sloppy as he watched the jiggle of your ass every time his hips slapped into yours. He threw his head back as your walls began to squeeze him.
You had never orgasmed as hard as you did just then, his cock pressing deep into you, cumming as his tongue lobbed out, licking his lips as spit rolled off and onto your ass. Yours and his moans mixed well, filling the room with the sounds of pleasure.
Your body collapsed, Toji slipped out as you dropped to the bed. He groaned as the cool hair hit his dick and his eyes wandered down to you to watch the mixture of both his and your cum ooze out of you.
He swiped a finger across you, gathering the mix to suck into his mouth. He moaned as he dipped them down again, gathering more and bringing two fingers up to your mouth.
“Want a taste?”
You gladly took the fingers into your mouth as you tiredly licked them clean, taking them out with a pop. Toji chuckled at this and plopped down beside you.
With that same hand, he grabbed your face, pinching your cheeks together to pucker your lips for him.
“Pretty, pretty girl. You did so good for me. You’re a good little slut.”
With that, he pulled you into a kiss, pulling the sheets over your body. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you into his chest, content with keeping you for the rest of the night.
As the both of you fell into a deep slumber, you were unaware of the people leaving downstairs.
Gojo was the last to leave, walking with Megumi as the boy showed him out, almost begging the man to hurry up and leave.
However, the two men stopped their conversation as they came to the door, looking down at the pair of shows that sat by the entrance.
“Aren’t those Y/N’s?”
Megumi’s ears burned hot. He knew he should have been more curious to why you left without saying goodbye. Should have been even more suspicious of his dads behavior.
“I’m going to fucking kill my dad.”
passing ships w/ oikawa | wc: 330 masterlist
every morning, without fail, you find yourself at a quaint café. not due to the delicious coffee, or the memorable cheese and spinach empanadas. even the amazing view of the sun rising over the ocean's tide couldn't convince you to go so frequently. seeing him, though, that's reason enough.
he walks in so confidently, pushing his sunglasses onto his head. he always orders with a suave tone, making sure he talks to each barista like they're the love of his life. and every day when they call out his name, you think to yourself, i could hear oikawa every day of my life.
yet neither of you say anything to the other. you've never had the courage. standing up and talking to him meant leaving the homey bubble that you so desperately built for yourself. talking to him meant that this fantasy you've built around a stranger would crumble, the idea of him would crumble.
he's never talked to you because you've become a comfort in his morning routine. he walks into the café, glances over at you, and can feel his heart rate rise a little. a blip in his daily routine that so greatly affects it, changing that, well, it would change everything.
one morning though, neither of you can claim the idea of passing ships. not when you're running out the door with your hair messy, clothes still wrinkled from wasting away in your basket. you hurry for the café, checking the time periodically on your watch to make sure that you can get there on time.
you take in a deep breath, trying to seem like you weren't just running for your life for a small routine. and right as you're pulling at the front door, someone steps forward, knocking into you. his coffee spills over your shirt, dripping down onto your shoes, "watch where you're-"
quickly your gaze flickers at the man's face and it's your ship. the ship that has finally crashed into you, "...going."
⊹ I AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A NASTY DOG!
. . . BSD MEN AS OVERUSED PORN PLOTS!
wc: 5.3k
cw: MINORS DNI—explicit sexual content, gn!+afab!reader, a lot of anonymous sex, dirty talk, BIG DICK MEN, probably a good amount of ooc, some questionable dynamics/dubcon that can be read through the lens of roleplay and/or prior consent. character-specific warnings—chuuya: public sex, penetration; dazai: penetration, riding, creampie; kunikida: professor/student, oral (m!receiving); fukuzawa: secretary/boss, office sex, oral (m!receiving), facefucking; atsushi: HEAVY DUBCON WARNING, stuck, perv atsushi, penetration; akutagawa: blackmailing if you squint, degradation, choking, penetration; oda: penetration; ango: public sex, penetration, riding; nikolai: dubcon, home intruder f!masturbation, penetration; sigma: a tiny bit of perv sigma, oral (f!receiving); fyodor: priest!fyodor, religion/blasphemy kink, christianity-specific, oral (m!receiving)
reid: putting my dual major in journalism to work by subtitling these like bad porn videos. little not so thought out drabbles many with no definitive ending just silly whore thoughts. some are more stupid than sexy but either way i hope you enjoy because this was a blast to write HAHAHAHA
⊹ ⊹ ⊹
⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA—HOT GYM BUDDIES CAN’T WAIT UNTIL AFTER THEIR WORKOUT TO FUCK!
“Yeah, that’s a lot better. Look at you, you got it,” the pretty redhead mutters, his hands still firmly on your hips as he spots your squat. “Give me one more, I know you can.”
The praise prompts you to draw in a deep breath that has nothing to do with your next squat; anyway, this gorgeous man, kind enough to help you with your form, believes in you. So you bend once more, squatting down, down, and pushing back up—until on your way back up, you feel your legs begin to buckle.
“Woah, woah.” It’s sweet how concerned he sounds as his hands fly up to the bar and his feet nudge you forward to help you replace the weight on the rack, but his hips end up pressed to yours, and you’re gasping. “You okay?”
You’re fine, caged between him and the bar as he leans over your shoulder to glimpse your face that’s flushed from exertion. Only exertion, surely, even though your ass is pressed firmly to his pelvis. He doesn’t seem hard, but you can still feel it, and it feels big.
“Yeah,” you breathe, moving to duck under the bar, but it’s low and you’re feeling a little dizzy, so you teeter backwards into him, and as his hands find your waist again. “Yeah, I’m about to be done anyway.”
“You should really stretch after maxing out like that,” he suggests, turning you around. “Don’t wanna be hurting, do you?”
But you can only look into his intense eyes and shake your head lightly before he’s easing you to the ground on your back, settling each of his knees over one of your thighs, and slotting his shoulder beneath your hamstring. He pushes forward, gently, slowly, looking to you for anything wrong; and there isn’t.
There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that you can feel his huge dick against your pussy through both of your shorts.
It’s all you need to start moving blindly, reaching down for his waistband, pawing at his neck, mashing his lips to yours, and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back—he lets up on your leg only to slip your shorts off before your ankle is back over his shoulder and he’s grinding the head of his cock into your wetness.
“You gonna let me in, baby?” he pants hotly, looking down at you squirming beneath him. “Yeah, I know you will—you’re strong, you can take it.”
His tip catches on your clit, and you gasp before he’s plunging into you, setting a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck!”
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he groans. “So fuckin’ tight.”
He hits the inside of you perfectly, his soft ginger hair falling loose from its low pony—you wish you knew his name so you could scream it, but you settle for moaning, panting, cussing, as he throws your other leg over his shoulder and drills into you on the gym mat. ⊹
⊹ OSAMU DAZAI—MY OLDER BROTHER ALMOST CAUGHT ME FUCKING HIS BEST FRIEND!
“Shit—I’ll be back, gonna go shower this off. Asshole.”
That was what your older brother, Chuuya, grumbled at Dazai before scurrying off to the bathroom. The three of you had just gotten back from getting ice cream, and Dazai had the brilliant idea of snatching Chuuya’s cone from him and sticking it in his hair. Cursing ensued the entire walk home.
And Dazai popped the tail end of his cone in his mouth and grabbed for your wrists as soon as your brother was out of sight, which leads you to now—in the living room, on the couch, bouncing furiously on his cock as he grunts.
“Osamu—be quiet!” you plead with him, but you’re moaning, too.
His lips fall into a grin. “Don’t worry, cutie, I can still hear the shower—fuck! Just keep—keep doing that, you feel so fucking good.”
So you reinforce your grip on his shoulders and slam your hips down to meet his, over and over, drawing sinful sounds from both of your bodies as you’re separated by a single thin wall from your brother—Dazai’s best friend, who would probably murder both of you if he found out you were fucking.
And then the water turns off. You muffle the choked cry you let out into Dazai’s shoulder, so damn frustrated that you won’t get there, not before Chuuya comes back—but Dazai’s flipping you onto your back, grabbing you by your hips, pulling you into him with such fervor that you almost shout.
“Need it, baby, I need to cum in this pussy—”
“Osamu!”
But even you can’t tell if you’re egging him on or warning him to stop—with no sound buffer and Chuuya undoubtedly coming back any minute, your body decides for you that you need it, too, you need to cum and you will, no matter how much your mind protests; your eyes flick nervously up to the hallway when they’re not rolling back from how Dazai’s rearranging your guts.
“He’s gonna come back—unh—and you’re gonna sit here with my cum in you, and he won’t even fuckin’ know.”
He’s digging his nails into your hips and ass, making you twitch, reaching down to rub your clit hard, and when you cum, clenching around him, he shoves his palm over your mouth and spills into you with a last few wet smacks.
Dazai’s scrambling back into his pants as footsteps pad down the hall; he all but throws himself at the other end of the couch as you curl up, dressed but fucked silly, focused on not letting the evidence of what just happened gush out of you and leak onto the couch.
“Fuck was that noise?” Chuuya mumbles, sauntering out as he’s tying his wet hair up.
“Hm? I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”
When Chuuya turns toward the kitchen, Dazai tosses you a wink. Your face burns as you feel yourself leaking. ⊹
⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA—COLLEGE HOTTIE SUCKS DICK FOR EXTRA CREDIT!
"You do realize I'm going to have to fail you," your professor informs you, looking into your eyes with a little regret. Truthfully, you've always been personable in class and shown promise as a student, and he's disappointed. Not in you, just in your poor academic performance during your final semester.
"There has to be something I can do to make up for it," you nearly plead, hands clasped together on the edge of his desk as you look to him with hope. You know you've been slacking, but you need this class to graduate.
"I don't know—" He sighs your name, clearly confliced. Your attendance record is less than impressive these days, and Kunikida's enforced a strict class participation policy throughout his years of teaching—as well as no extra credit—something he makes clear to all of his students in all of his classes, and you especially should know better after taking his classes for four years. "I don't know. Like what?" Maybe you can do a few credits in the summer and still walk at graduation, or pick up an internship. But he wants you to take the initiative and accountability.
He doesn't really know how to protest when you're slipping out of your seat and sinking to your knees as a spark starts to gleam in your eyes. You rattle off a few academic ideas for posterity, but ultimately find your hands sliding up his thighs and fiddling with his belt.
Fuck it, you think, you'll be out of here soon enough. Plus, Kunikida's always been kind, compassionate, understanding, and sexy—too invested in his field to even notice that handfuls of students on campus would throw themselves at him given the chance. Maybe he'll finally understand, you muse to yourself, as you work his hardening cock out of his dress pants.
He chokes out your name when you take his length in both of your hands; he's all the way gone when you're swirling your tongue over his tip, giving in to your little idea for extra credit sooner than he'd ever admit to himself.
"Oh, fuck—" He's staring up at the ceiling of his office in pure bliss because his student is working hot, sloppy kisses down the underside of his cock. His hands twist into your hair, and you gaze up at him, doe-eyed, as his head falls forward and he looks at you through his glasses. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."
He's trying not to thrust into your mouth when you fondle his balls; his pretty blond bangs are dampening with sweat, and you can't take your eyes off him as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks around him and moaning at the taste of your professor's cock heavy in your mouth. He twitches and jumps at your attention to detail—your fingers raking tracks down his thighs, your frantic tongue, your fluttering lashes and sugary moans, gags, and slurps that are music to him.
You know, as he falls apart more and more by the second, you won't have to worry about this class anymore.
"Unh—uh, yes, oh, fuck, we'll work something out, yeah, gorgeous? Just don't stop—d—don't stop, don't fucking stop, I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, yeah, and we'll get it all figured out." ⊹
⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA—NAUGHTY SECRETARY SEDUCES HOT BOSS!
You're perched on his desk when he returns from the meeting—Yukichi, your boss, who, lately, you can't stop thinking about climbling like a tree. You're sure your coworkers see it, too, but you're his personal assistant; no one gets to be as close to him as you, and he trusts you.
Which is why you'll put the moves on him today.
He runs a hand through his silver hair—obviously stressed—sighing as he pulls his office door shut and turns to you. He speaks your name, holds a few papers in your direction, begins instructing you on what he needs from you next.
But you know better what he needs. The papers that make their way into your hands are quickly forgotten about on his desk as you uncross your legs and hop down, sauntering up to place on hand on his arm, the other on his chest.
"Sir, you look so tense. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?"
He makes his way to sit down in his office chair, disregarding your touch in a way that has you following after him like a puppy in need of attention.
He doesn't answer, but he also doesn't protest when you settle between his knees beneath his desk and push his yukata and haori up to pool around his hips. His dick is thick and veiny, even soft; when you spit in your hand and begin to work him up and down his mouth falls open with a sigh, and he grows at least two inches as he hardens beneath your grip.
You didn't think you'd be able to fit his absolute monster cock in your mouth, but you find yourself, throat open, with your nose pressed to his happy trail as you swirl your tongue and breathe through your nose frantically; he holds your face down, speaking very little but making up for it with the way he grunts hotly in that deep, rough voice as he bucks into the back of your throat.
"Unh—ugh..."
You breathe through your nose as his hips fall into a brutal pace; his hands on either side of your head keep you pinned in place as he uses you, takes his stress out on you. Your fingers massage his balls, and you can't help the way you hum around him when he twitches in your mouth.
Yukichi pulls out of your jaw and you gasp for air, wiping the spit that drips down your chin with the back of your hand, but he's not done. When he does speak, it's demanding, low, and it makes your cunt throb with need.
"Get up. Get up, sit on the desk. 'Need to fuck you."
You do as you’re told, open up for him with no hesitation, smiling as he works his fat cock into you—yeah, his stress will be gone in no time with the way he fucks your hole so hard and fast that you shake with each creak of his desk. ⊹
⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA—STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR WITH MY SEXY NEIGHBOR!
"Ah! Atsushi, open the door!"
"Um," he frets, punching the button until he's sure it'll break. If it's not broken already. "I—I can't, it's not working!"
Not working? Is he fucking serious? You're trapped in the door—all you did was try to reach back out for your bag you'd set by the elevator and now you're stuck, by the waist, between the two sliding maneuvers, your bag dangling from your hands.
"It's supposed to have a sensor! It's not supposed to even close when someone's on the threshold!" you cry through your teeth as you try to squirm out. Atsushi's mind is already working, though, over the way you're pinned in half, wiggling your ass as you struggle against the industrial strength of the elevator door. "Atsushi, help me, please call someone or something—"
But his hands are on your hips, pulling backward, and you can't help the noise of surprise that slips out of you.
"Atsu', I seriously don't think that will work, please, just call—Atsushi!"
His hands shake as he slides your pants and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass; he tunes out your protesting as he undoes his belt. You hear the clink of it hitting the ground, you feel his fingers dipping into your cunt from behind, and he cannot be fucking serious.
"I'm sorry," he cries like it's out of his control—he feels like it is. "I'm sorry, you're so hot, you're right here, I've wanted this for so long."
And you feel yourself beginning to drip at his desperate tone. You can't fucking believe it—this is depraved. This is some shit you would've never expected from the sweet, cute boy in the apartment across the hall who helped you drag your bedframe and couch from this very elevator to your room but here he is, prodding at you with his pathetically leaky cock while you're stuck in the damn elevator door.
And you'd be frustrated with how your body reacts, but as he slides his dick along your cunt, drenching himself in your wetness, you can't help but arch back into his touch.
"Atsushi, you have to fuck me, please."
And he does, fast and unpracticed—he whimpers for you, tells you you're all he thinks about when he jerks off; he confesses that he looks through his peephole when he knows you're leaving for work or school just to get at least one glimpse of you everyday to fuel his imagination, and you gush around him, the pain of the door trapping you falling irrelevant, drifting out of your mind, as he buries his face in your shoulder and humps into you like an animal, pounding against your cervix.
"Fuck, that's right, so good, so, so good—better than I could've imagined—agh, fuck, that's right, take it all, take it, take it, take it...!" ⊹
⊹ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA—HOT BABE HAS NO MONEY, LETS THE DELIVERY BOY DESTROY THAT PUSSY!
You rifle through your wallet and hum when you come up short. "Um, I... know you said you don't have a card reader, but I don't have enough cash."
The delivery boy looks at you with little more than boredom until you invite him in.
"Here, let me look in my room—I might have more stashed somehwere..."
He stands over you, searching you with his curious gray eyes as you dig through a drawer, a bag, another bag, only to come up short again. You even peek under your mattress for good measure, but you're just out. You turn to him sheepishly.
"I, uh... I don't have enough, I'm really sorry."
"Well, I can't leave without some form of payment," he deadpans, and you try to think of something, anything—you have a few giftcards for other delivery services, some jewelry—but he's letting his bag fall off his shoulder and grabbing you by the hips before you can register what he means.
You end up face down, ass up on your bed as a compromise, his hips rutting into you from behind as he holds your wrists behind your back. Ryuunosuke his name tag read—you're quick to adopt a way around that mouthful, moaning out, "Ryuu, Ryuu, please!" as he splits you open and calls you a whore.
"Fuckin' slut—"
When you're able to glance back for a second you can see his pretty black hair swaying with each rough thrust, and you're sure he's hitting your lungs—he's so fucking deep inside you, and you're gasping, moaning for more.
"—so eager to—unh—take this dick. Probably hiding your cash somewhere."
But whether you are or not doesn't matter; your eyes are rolling back to the hard smack of his hips against your ass and the white-hot pleasure that rolls through you every time he plows straight into your g-spot, and he's throbbing inside of you at the way your cunt grips him. Your pizza's getting cold on the counter in your kitchen, but you don't care—not when he bunches his fingers up in your hair to arch you back up to him so he can wrap his other hand around your throat.
You hold onto him as he bends you, pulling air down into your lungs when you can, and his gravelly voice barrages you with more words that make you gush around his cock.
"Gonna let me cum in this pussy so you don't have to fork over a few bucks for a pizza? Pathetic."
His teeth sink into your shoulder, his other hand reaches down to torture your neglected clit, and you're sure he's gonna break you over this, your hot delivery boy who just so happened to have the idea to fill you up as payment. You pant his name desperately between thunderous moans—you're gonna cum soon. ⊹
⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA—THIS PLUMBER FIXED MORE THAN JUST MY PIPES!
"Okay, that should do it." The man stands up, back to a height at which he towers over you, and you lean on the doorframe to the kitchen as he shuts the cabinets beneath your sink. "It's all movin' again."
You were in your robe when you answered the door, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't run to the bathroom to fix your hair and swipe on a little lip balm while he was working. Really, you hadn't meant to try to fuck the plumber. But this man was gorgeous, with his auburn hair, stubble-lined jaw, large hands, broad shoulders. You felt your eyes widen when you first laid eyes on him, and now you'd been throbbing thinking about what those thick fingers could do other than plumbing.
You pull your robe tighter around yourself, hoping to subtly accentuate the outline of your body. "Thank you so much, really, I don't know what I'd have done without the sink."
"Probably used the dishwasher a lot more," he cracked dryly, and your previous words suddenly feel stupid, but it only serves to make him hotter.
"How should I pay you?" You stride over to him. "Cash?"
"You can just pay online." He looks tired, but he has a well-meaning smile on his face.
You look a little incredulous. "Really? I can't—do you accept tips? Seriously, top notch work and super quick. I can't not thank you."
"I'm really not supposed to take tips," he drawls, running a hand through his hair. You find yourself biting your lip; you can't look away from him. You must look like a rabid animal right now, but you can't help it.
He doesn't tear his eyes away from yours.
"I mean, unless..."
Those three words are what find you on your back in your bedroom with your robe thrown open, the sweet and efficient plumber named Sakunosuke standing at the edge as he impales you on his cock. He worked you open with those fingers first, fast and harsh, just how you begged him to, but nothing could've prepared your weeping hole for the stretch of his fat dick—and now he's pounding into you, his hands clutching your waist as you hold your legs open for him to thrust deeper, deeper.
“Oh, shit. Unh—so wet—“
His groans come from his chest, deliciously—he looks a little like he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but your cunt is sucking him in like it was what he was supposed to come here for all along. You spasm and clench around him and he throws his head back, your whole body rippling as his strong hips and heavy balls smack lewdly against your ass with each thrust.
“Mmph—fuck—break that sink of yours more often, alright?” ⊹
⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI—I JOINED THE MILE HIGH CLUB (EXTREMELY RISKY)!
The man you met in the airport bar—oh, he’s pretty.
He's even prettier in your mind when the pilot announces phone permissions now that you're in the air, and the first notification your phone receieves is from him.
I have an open seat next to me in first class. Come visit.
You don't hesitate for a moment. You stride forward from the economy section, past the flight attendants who protest at you flimsily to search for his seat number—you see his unmistakably gorgeous hair, his glasses, his sharp side profile as he speaks to an attendant, catches you in his peripheral, and then shoos her away.
There's hardly niceties before one of your legs is slung over his knee and he kisses you with fervor. You don't think too hard about the people around you—none of whom can actually see you but without a doubt will know exactly what's happening in a few minutes—as you grind down onto his thigh, bite his lips, draw soft gasps from him when your knee nudges his bulge.
Before you know it, his cock is free and he slides your underwear to the side so you can sink onto him; he groans shamelessly when your wet heat envelops him completely, causing heads to turn in your direction, but you just brace your knees against the airplane seat and your hands on his shoulders make quick work of milking him of everything he has.
He kisses you, hot, heavy; he smells good, he smells expensive, and you tear his dress shirt open to rake your nails down his chest as he grabs your hips, letting his head fall back and a full-bodied moan into the cramped air of the plane as he does so. You lift up to let him thrust, let lewd smacks resonate throughout first class, and with your chest in his face he rides your shirt up to latch his teeth to one of your nipples; you echo him, moaning unabashedly, running your hands through your hair, gripping him as people look on.
"Fuuuck, yeah, feels so good," he praises from beneath you. "Knew I had to fuck you from the second I saw you." His eyebrows draw up in concentration as he looks down at where your bodies meet and continues fucking up into you hard. "Hah—listen to that cunt cry for me. You like being watched, huh? Gonna let me fuck you 'til the plane smells like sex? Huh?"
You nod, messily, desperately, and he quickens his pace ever faster, pulling you back down into a sloppy kiss.
An attendant awkwardly approaches in the aisle, but the gorgeous man who's destroying your insides just holds up a palm, shoos her away again.
"Fuck—so sexy. Keep takin' this dick." ⊹
⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL—LUCKY INTRUDER GETS TO FUCK HORNY VICTIM!
You're splayed out on your bed, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt—and he's just surprised you didn't hear him breaking the lock on your front door.
When you meet his eyes, you're so glazed over with pleasure that you barely miss a beat, your gaze only blowing wide when he peers around your bedroom doorway. His snowy white hair, his sharp features—you can't find the sense to be alarmed at this unfamiliar man, the one holding your laptop and—is that your wallet?
Doesn't matter—they're clattering to the ground, another factor here you can't find it in yourself to care about as his gray eyes are locked onto you fucking yourself open on your sheets. The sheen of sweat that covers your skin, your desperate moans as you grind your clit against your palm, the obscene squelching that comes from your wet cunt—they all serve to propel him over to you, prompt him to dig his already-hard cock out of his pants as you just watch, beg him with your stare to come fill you up. You're so lucky he's here, really—you look like you're struggling to get deep enough with your pathetic little fingers; he guesses it's only fair that he repay you for the material goods he's about to rob you of and pawn off on whatever sucker will buy them for cash, right?
"Right? I'll help you out—" He gives his cock a few pumps as he positions himself between your legs, "—looks like you need it, sweetheart."
You can only bite your lip to supress the moan that leaves you as he enters your cunt and lifts your fingers up and out of you by your wrist to swirl his tongue around them, lick them clean. He's huge—even your third and fourth fingers weren't enough to prepare you properly for the burglar’s dick in your needy pussy, so you let out strained combinations of gasps and screams when he starts to drill into you mercilessly. You can't help the way your ankles link behind his back, the way you reach for him—and he smiles wickedly when your eyes roll back.
"You like having a stranger's cock deep in your guts, huh?" he speaks between deep sighs and grunts. You can only babble your incoherent agreement, your laptop and wallet forgotten, the actions of this man forgotten, everything but how desperately you need to squirt all over him forgotten—you reach down and rub your clit, play with your nipples as your mouth is frozen open as you moan, moan for this man who's just broken into your home. "Uh—yeah, you're gonna like takin' all my cum, too, I bet." ⊹
⊹ SIGMA—MASSEUR HELPS HIS SEXY CLIENT RELIEVE STRESS!
"Oh, yeah—right there," you groan softly as the heel of his palm meets the center of your back. You've been looking forward to this full-body massage the whole week, and this man was not disappointing.
He works his way down your back, twisting knots out as he goes—his lithe fingers feel like heaven against you, overworked from hours at your desk hunched over your computer.
But it's a full-body massage, as mentioned before; when his fingers dig into the plush of your asscheeks, you can't help the groan that leaves you.
"That okay?" he inquires; you think you hear a shake in his voice.
"More than okay," you reply, thinking you could fall asleep as he works you into relaxation. You could close your eyes from how good it feels, or you could peek behind you and see his face burning with blush at your sounds. You do the former, but smirk a little at how sweet it is of him to check in.
He checks in again when his hands are inching your underwear down, and you tell him of course, he's the professional.
He's still the professional when he climbs up on the table behind you and buries his flushed face into your cunt. You arch up and back, crooning, as his hands stay massaging you, spreading you apart, kneading your ass with career expertise and plunging his tongue into you with enthusiasm.
"Oh! Oh—feels good," you breathe, grinding back into his face, onto his nose. He laps at you happily, this masseur you've barely looked upon for a total of twenty seconds, but you can't lie to yourself and say you didn't think he was pretty when he led you back to his room; he hums into you, sending you shivering, twitching. "Please, more."
"Mhm," he mumbles, releasing one of your asscheeks to lay back beneath you and insert a long, thin finger into your pussy; you sigh, you settle onto his face, and his tongue speeds up in this new position in a way that rips a high moan from your lungs.
Not hunched, but arched, the stretch feels heavenly on your back in combination with the way he pumps another finger into you; you graciously sit up, throwing your head back, begging, pleading for more until his tongue settles into a tight back-and-forth rhythm over your clit. "Please, please, please—"
You grind against his nose, your moans become more erratic, and you dig a hand into his hair as your hips move in dizzying circles over his head.
"Cum for me?" he asks, muffled by your pussy; you'll ride him until his face is soaked. ⊹
⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY—CONFESSING MY SINS ENDS IN HUGE CUMSHOT ALL OVER MY FACE!
“And I’ve been terribly, terribly lustful, Father Fyodor,” you say with regret. “It consumes me. I really never used to be like this."
"Temptation lurks everywhere," the priest sympathizes. You can barely see him through the grate, but his soft, forgiving voice sounds close to you. "The Devil and his army are constantly exploiting our vulnerabilities to try and turn us to sin, but worry not, child of Christ; we're human. I'm here to guide you. Continue."
You shift on the wooden seat in the booth, crossing your hands tighter over your lap. "That's really all. It's been very concerning to me. I think about it... I think about it so much."
"About what?" Father Fyodor prompts, and you bristle even more at being asked to elaborate.
"Sex," it barely comes out as more than a whisper. "I can't help it—it's everywhere. It leaves me feeling so... exhausted and frustrated, and the only thing that helps is... Well..."
But you're met with silence. You know he wants you to go on. You're here to confess, after all.
"...touching myself. I do it at least once a day. It's like a burning within me—nothing helps but—but—cumming all over my fingers." Your voice is laced with shame—the throbbing of your cunt as you talk makes you feel all the more guilty, and you can only imagine how he's shaking his head. "That's all. That's all."
"You'll do penance," he says, comfortingly. "When we bring our sins to the Lord and repent he cleanses us of them."
The grate pops out of the window, and you see the the waist of his alb as he speaks his next words.
"You'll take communion, now—" the cinctures around his waist fall undone beneath his hands, and the alb is hiked up to reveal a leaking cock, pretty and pale and bobbing in the air of the confessional. "—and be saved from the flames of perdition.”
"Yes, Father, please. Anything to be saved." But your mouth waters in a way that you know has little to do with your thirst for salvation.
"Take this; eat. This is my body," he recites the scripture as his length reaches through the window; your hands, eager and already on the threshold, accept him willingly. As you wrap your mouth around him, he groans, and it's like seraphim singing their holy, holy, holy.
"That's it—child of God, follower of Christ; I absolve you of your sins," he gasps as his tip hits the back of your throat which was begging for forgiveness moments ago. His hands reach through the window to stroke either side of your face, and then hold you in place to fuck your throat. "The Lord will forgive you for this." ⊹
꧁Montague relationship headcanons꧂
Because the nisha one was fun to write
Fluff, cute romance, reader is gender neutral
He loves letting you touch his hair. And it's soft too. He makes sure it's soft, just for you, because he knows you love playing with it.
His stubble is itchy and he knows it. When he kisses you, or cuddles up next to you, he always rubs his face on yours.
There's no knowing when he's gonna kiss you. In the car, on the couch, even in public. He will kiss you at the most random times, and you have no way of predicting it.
He gave you a necklace that looks like his medallion. It's not real diamond, probably a sapphire or something, but you cherish it regardless.
If you're sick, he will drop everything and come and help you. He calls a doctor, he gets his chefs to make you your favourite soup (or comfort food if you don't like soup), he even gives you cuddles.
He gives you a little trinket after every mission. It could be a compass, a bracelet, new clothes, anything that reminds him of you. You have a little box of trinkets that Montague brings you because you have no idea where else to put them.
Neck kisses. Lots of them. He's always leaving marks to show people that you're his.
He fiddles with his medallion when he's thinking about you. Valeria loves to joke about it. "Ooh, you miss y/n?" It drives him up the wall every time Valeria jokes about you.
He only lets you call him Monty. Everyone else has to call him Montague.
This is for @avokadothorne :3
I know you love him
TOKREV NSFW VISUALS | (PT. II)
feat: mikey, draken, chifuyu, kazutora, baji, mitsuya, hanma, kisaki, koko, inui, ran, rindou, sanzu, wakasa, izana, kakucho, shinichiro
tw: fem!reader & read the trigger warnings for each character !! the number tells you which link the tw applies to
a/n: yes that’s my twitter account dedicated to nsfw anime visuals, mind your business <3
Keep reading
Breathe you in like smoke (Dabi x Reader)
Also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/56030950
He's doing it again.
You don't look up from your phone as you hear it. A breathy, feminine giggle and footsteps. The smell of perfume hits your nose, and you scrunch it on reflex - it's sweet and tangy at first but fades into something acidic and cloying the longer it lingers. And she's put on way too much. Hastily, realising you're wearing your emotions clearly on your face, you smooth out your expression again even though nobody is looking at you and probably don't give a shit what you're thinking.
Dabi leads the girl, who is drunk and giddy, no doubt she either has no idea who he is and just thinks he's a dangerous-looking bad boy. If only she knew just how bad he actually is, she'd likely run out of the place screaming and speed-dialling the cops with a manicured finger. Her footsteps are clumsy as she totters after him, his own footsteps sure and slow on the rickety stairs that lead up to the loft, a room Dabi unilaterally claimed as his own and nobody had either the energy or balls to protest this decision.
Irritation stirs in the pit of your stomach, despite your best efforts to maintain your air of nonchalance on the outside, like you're doing nothing more noteworthy than catching a bus. Dabi does this from time to time, picks up some random who doesn't know or care to know his identity, luring them back to the base for a quickie before unceremoniously booting them out again. You're convinced he has some form of exhibition kink, because he doesn't care to keep the noise down and neither does whoever he's pounding into the mattress. Spinner has complained more than once, but Dabi’s response is simply that he’s jealous his ugly ass could never.
Well, nobody’s ever called Dabi the epitome of tact.
And here you are, steeped in unrequited lust and a considerable amount of frustration as you have to sit and listen to this rigmarole and wishing, just once, that it was you he was leading upstairs.
You’ve honestly no idea if Dabi had an inkling about how you feel about him. You’re not stupid and know that to wear your interest openly will get you nowhere - he held everyone at arm's length, even his own comrades, and his primary concerns are his own goals. The fact your ears always prick whenever you hear the heavy tread of his boots entering a room, or whenever he rasps out one of his sarcastic jabs in response to the group's antics, or the way your skin tingles if he ever accidentally touches you, shoulder skimming yours when you were hunkered down, waiting in alleyways to pounce on unsuspecting victims to rob or worse, a graze of his fingertips if you occasionally requested he light your cigarette for you. His azure eyes seem to see everything, and yet they look through you in a way that makes you want to weep on your weaker days. You can act as uncaring and indifferent as him outwardly, but on the inside? On the inside, it's like your chest is being squeezed by his apathy. Even the littlest approving glance or backhanded compliment can lift your mood like nothing else, whereas one of his cutting remarks will have you picking over the subject of it for days, wondering if you'd slipped even further down in value in his eyes.
You stand up abruptly, nearly knocking your chair over and catching it just in time.
"I'm going for a smoke." you announce to nobody in particular.
"Have fun!” Twice says, waving at you like you were about to board a train. "Take a flyin' leap!"
You disappear out the door, passing where Kurogiri and Compress are playing some card game. Strictly speaking, you don't need to go outside to smoke, it isn't like anybody in the League cares about breathing in your secondhand smoke, but you prefer the privacy of smoking outside, just you and your cigarette and your simmering thoughts. People (usually Himiko) bugging you to ask questions while you were trying to get your precious nicotine hit makes you quite homicidal.
Given who you were affiliated with, it’s best not to be seen just casually hanging around on the street corner. So, you round the building and climb up the rusty fire escape, taking care to compensate for the missing rungs of the ladder or patches of rust that will scrape your hands. The stink of rotting garbage is fortunately not as bad as it could be, the wind is blowing the smell in the other direction.
The base’s rooftop is nice and quiet, and you pop a cigarette in your mouth and cup your hand around the end of it to light it, the snick-snick of the wheel grazing your thumb sounding loud in the silence. A spark flares to life and you lean into it, pulling in a lungful of smoke with relief. It settles something in you, smooths over your frazzled nerves like a comforting hand stroking your hair.
As you take the cigarette between your index and middle finger, you hear a noise, and your head turns. It came from the window built into the brickwork.
Like someone driving past a car accident, repelled and fascinated at once, you slip closer. You can't stop yourself, it's as instinctive as breathing, and you suck hard on your cigarette as your eyes take in the tableau before you.
The girl Dabi brought in is on his futon on all fours. Her little strapless dress has been shoved up over her hips, the shiny black material reminding you of an oil spill. Her face is splotchy, and her makeup looks like it made its excuses and left some time ago - there isn't much glitter left on her eyelids and her lipstick is blotted on her lower jaw from sloppy kisses. Behind her is Dabi and you stifle a gasp at the sight. Normally you never see him out of that black duster he seems to have glued to his body, but now?
Now, you're treated to a very different sight indeed. He's shirtless and though his lower half is obscured by the girl, you can see enough. It's surprising how broad his shoulders are - a swimmer's built, broad shoulders, toned arms that taper into a small waist. He's more muscular than you were expecting too, you can see the tendons in his arms flex as he wraps a hand around the back of the girl's neck.
"Stay still,” he orders her in a husky voice that has you stiffening on your rooftop perch, crouched there like a gargoyle.
She’s panting with excitement already and you hear the jingle as he loosens his belt – not even bothering to slide his jeans off, just undoing the fly and unbuttoning them.
You lean closer to the glass, eyes glued to Dabi, watching him with the rapt attention of someone observing a tragedy on the news in real time. His torso is a map of scars, velvety under the moody lighting on his room, yet you’re enraptured by the sight of him, drinking in the sight greedily. After all, who knows when you’ll get a chance to see this again?
Envy tugs at you and you moodily inhale on your cigarette. What the fuck has this woman got that you haven’t, anyway? What makes her so special he’s willing to fuck her and not you? Your eyes narrow into an angry squint, though that’s partly to protect them from the veil of smoke.
“This what you want, huh?” he asks mockingly to the girl, giving her ass a sharp slap that makes her jolt, and ridiculously, you copy the action like her shadow.
“Yes, yes…” she pants, rocking her hips back, like she just can’t wait anymore, her body quivering in excitement. “Please, please fuck me…”
He laughs, and fuck it’s hot, so rough and condescending. He grips her hips, his fingertips digging into the flesh where no doubt there’ll be finger-shaped marks by the time morning comes.
“You dirty slut.”
He doesn’t seem like he minds too much though, and after a moment’s adjustment he’s leaning forward and the girl’s body jerks as he sinks his cock into her – you don’t need to be able to see it from where you are, the look on her face tells you everything you need to know. Her glossy lips drop open, and she throws back her head.
“Oh-! Oh, god!”
“Yeah? That feel good?” he growls.
Yes. You mouth in answer, her response coming out garbled. You glance around – ridiculously, because you’re on the roof and it’s not like anybody can see you, not unless they were flying directly overhead and somehow you think a helicopter or a plane have more important matters to bother with – and slowly undo your own jeans.
Fuck, you really thought you had more dignity than this, touching yourself to the sight of Dabi fucking someone into the mattress, panting and needy and frustrated, but you can’t stop yourself. You don’t want to stop.
Your fingers slip past the flimsy cotton barrier of your panties as you shamelessly ogle the scene below – the woman doesn’t seem to be wearing any herself, so Dabi thrusts into her unimpeded, making a growling sound that tends a shiver through your body. If you close your eyes, you might even be able to trick yourself into thinking his raspy instructions are aimed at you;
“That’s it. Fuckin’ take it.” He demands, slapping her ass again. “S’what you’re here for, isn’t it? To be fucked.”
Oh god. You think to yourself – you’ve always had a bit of a thing for voices and Dabi’s, when he bothers to talk, is nice. Raspy with a hint of a growl, and you’ve seen him use it to shut up an entire room of bickering people before.
“My own little fucktoy.” he says, a bite in his words, but the woman doesn’t seem to care, only her own mounting pleasure is important, and you bite the inside of your cheek in an effort to stop yourself from responding verbally to things not aimed at you. If he heard you up here, you’d be utterly mortified.
Yet, the thrill of it, knowing that all he has to do is look up and he’d clearly see you through the skylight, is doing it for you in a way you’ve never experienced before. There’s a power in being an observer somehow, passing judgement while sitting up here, literally above it all. By now your fingers are soaked, and you’re going to have to sneak back to your own room and find some drier underwear to replace these, but right now it feels so good, such a release, that you don’t care. You don’t care about anything except chasing your own high, pulsing heat building in your core as you sink your fingers in deep, shamelessly using your own teammate as visual and audio aid. Your breathing falls in sync with their panting, fogging up the glass.
Hey, if he didn’t want you using his one-night stand to get yourself off, maybe he should keep his voice down and close the fucking blinds in future.
Dabi's really going at it now, grunting with the effort, plowing into her from behind. The dim lighting plays across his muscles and you're tracing each ridge with your eyes, like you're trying to make a mental map of them. The girl beneath him is moaning away like a pornstar, but Dabi seems disconnected from her, his teeth gritted, one hand gripping the back of her neck to hold her in place.
Your hands shake as you thrust your fingers deeper inside yourself, a whimper muffled behind your teeth that sinks into your bottom lip. Your knees are cramping from your crouched position and there’s a cold breeze whipping up between the alleyway below, creating an impromptu wind tunnel, yet all these unpleasant sensations around you, it only heightens the pleasure building in your cunt, heat sending you breathless.
“Oh god, yes, like that!” the woman wails, throwing her head back, and Dabi growls at her to shut up, even though there’s nothing about his tone or actions that imply he mean it.
She’s making such a racket that you can’t help it – when he pushes her head down so she’s practically kissing the mattress, grabbing her hip and lifting them up so he can plunge even deeper into her, you let out a gasp of your own.
“Oh, fuck yes-!”
And then he snaps his head up and locks eyes directly with you.
You can’t even squeak and pull away – his gaze pins you to the spot. Did he know you were there all along? Prickling shame races up and down your limbs, like you’re being jabbed with a cold needle all over.
Oh my god. You think helplessly, heat scorching your cheeks. He is NEVER going to let you live this down, is he?
But then he grins, wide and sharp, and he starts going even faster, hips snapping against the girl’s in a rough, mercilessly rhythm that rachets up her moaning louder and louder, the lewd smack of skin on skin audible beneath it. And all the while Dabi is watching your dumbstruck expression with a savage smile, knowing you’re unable to pull yourself away. Not until he’s done with the both of you.
She cries out in throes of ecstasy, but you can’t move, can’t bring yourself to keep going now you’ve been caught, even if your bottom half isn’t visible through the skylight – he knows what you were just doing and he’s certainly know if you started up again. Instead, you just sit there dumbly, mouth hanging open as you watch him fuck her to orgasm, her body jerking like a marionette with its strings cut. Dabi puts on a show of his own when he comes, clutching the woman’s hips like his own personal stress toy, throwing back his head and arching his back, all sinuous, writhing muscles.
And all the while he watches you from slitted blue eyes, revelling in the flustered, astonished expression on your face. It’s a good look for you, he decides.
When he’s spent, the woman collapses onto her side, panting, and Dabi tucks himself matter-of-factly back into his jeans without an ounce of self-consciousness to be seen.
“We’re done here. Get out.” He orders her in a toneless voice. Talk about wham, bam, but no thank-you ma'am to go with it.
She turns her head to look at him, astonishment and a smidge of indignation writ large on her face.
“What? Seriously? But how am I meant to- “
“I don’t give a shit. Go.”
He stares her down, all insolence, looking at her like she’s nothing, a bug under his shoe. Quite the contrast for someone who was bottoming out inside her but a few moments ago, and you wince slightly at his coldness, despite yourself. The woman backs down immediately, tugging her dress back down and scrambling awkwardly off the futon. Dabi doesn’t even deign to turn his head to watch her go, merely tracking her out of the corner of his eyes as she stuff her feet into her high heels (which she looks like she’s regretting now), and she’s gone in the blink of an eye, leaving only a lingering silence and tang of her sickeningly-sweet perfume.
Dabi tilts his head back lazily.
“Having fun up there?” he calls up to you, amusement lacing his words, like it’s all a private joke only he is in on, a smirk widening his scarred mouth. “Fuckin’ pervert.”
“I didn’t- didn’t mean to- “you begin, hearing how defensive and ridiculous you sound – you were literally caught right in the act, yet some remaining shreds of self-preservation insist in the falsehood anyway. And it is true that all you wanted to do was have a smoke in peace, at first.
Your words sputter and die an early death when Dabi cuts you off, a command that you have no choice but to obey, his finger curling in a beckon and his cerulean eyes gleaming with promise.
“You like to watch so much? Then come down here and I’ll give you a real show.”
Shitty pervy roommate Dazai who's always just a little bit too comfortable with you. He has weird hours so you never really know when he'll show up, draped over your couch or stealing food from your part of the fridge. He never seems to be fully dressed, always has some ratty old sweats hanging low around his hips, always walks barefoot, never wears a shirt. An unzipped hoodie if you're lucky, maybe, but he always insists this is his house too and he'll wear whatever he wants. He encourages you to wear less stuff as well, always with a sly little grin that makes you wonder why exactly he's so invested in what you wear.
The walls are thin, thin enough for you to hear him moaning when he jerks off, but he's always so unashamed when you find him 5 minutes later flicking through TV channels that you never bring it up. His room is dark and always smells of weed and cheap alcohol, and you're sure it would be a mess if he actually bothered to own more than 5 things at any one time. But the rent is always on time, he never makes too much noise when he brings people over for his infrequent one night stands, and it's hard enough to find a decent place to live as is.... you can't exactly justify leaving.
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