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alexlwrites · 3 months

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𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Jungkook x Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: The one where everytime you get dumped you pretend that you never met the guy before to mess with their heads. To the point that if you run into them somewhere you reintroduce yourself and act like you’ve never seen each other before.

Enters fuckboy Jungkook who disappears after your night together, not knowing how much he was about to regret that choice.

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔: Romance, Humor, Fluff, Angst, College AU

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: I’m truly sorry for this sad excuse of an update.

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi)

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 - 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲, 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

(<<< part one)

“I can’t believe you’re doing this again” Jane’s voice rang through the phone as you walked down the streets towards your desired coffee spot.

You also couldn’t believe you were doing that again. You tried your best to live your life with no regrets, but men made it very hard.

“Have you seen him since he fled the crime scene?”

“Stop calling it a crime scene” you snapped.

“Well, have you?”

Your silence was enough of an answer. No, you had not seen or heard from Jungkook since he ran away from your bedroom in the dead of night, leaving behind only the smell of cologne and, funnily enough, a single sock. When you woke up that day to an empty bed, sheets crumbled and a mattress indented on the side where he had slept, all you could muster was a tired sigh of disappointment.

And to be completely honest, you were disappointed with yourself, not Jungkook. You expected nothing less than a quick escape of him. But you should’ve known better than to hope for anything. Despite everything, you were still an idealist at heart and you thought that maybe just this once…

You shook your head obstinately. You had learned early on that no good would come from moping around for men who would never once feel any regret for their thoughtless actions and if your pain were to be always one sided, then it was better not to feel any at all. Not to dwell on it, move on, learn from it and be better. Or be worse, sometimes, as self-improvement was not always your goal.

Sometimes, you chose to listen to the tiny revengeful angel on your shoulder - who kind of sounded like Taylor Swift - that screamed for violence and vindication.

As your failed relationships started to pile up, you did reach a point where you had to wonder if you were the problem, as it was the canonical event of all 20 something women. But observation, therapy, critical thinking and hereditary pettiness brought you to the decision that it was not, in fact, your fault. At least not all of it.

With that in mind, you left only the smallest of time slots in your booked and busy schedule to ponder and grieve over the fickle nature of boys’ interests. You had better, more important things to do, such as mindlessly scroll through Minecraft/AITA videos and save pilates routines that you were never gonna do.

Still, in an experience intrinsically feminine, you allowed yourself a little treat to cope with the slight burn of despondency in the back of your mind.

And so you directed yourself to the bougie coffee house near campus, hoping to drown your sorrows with an aggressively sweet and overly caffeinated drink.

“You should slash his tires”

“Jane, please, we have talked about this.”

“You should totally slash his fucking tires!"

"Saying it louder is not gonna make me agree with you! Jane…"

Suddenly your eyes found Jungkook's across the room filled to the brim with depressed, financially irresponsible students, making you pause and hold back the urge to curl your lips in distaste. It bothered you that even with scared eyes as big as saucers and hunched shoulders to appear smaller, Jungkook still managed to look good.

But you knew better than to let him know how much his presence and pretty face annoyed you. Boys like Jungkook only cared about having an impact on people’s life, very rarely caring if it was good or bad. He wanted a reaction out of you and you learned better than to give those away so carelessly.

So you frowned and looked away, the words practiced on your lips as you said “Some guy is staring at me.”

Jane laughed loudly on the phone “You’re a psycho, you know that?”

“I don’t know who it is, Jane, some dude” you stole a quick glance at him, finding vengeful glee at his shocked expression.

“Send me a pic of his reaction, I’m posting it on TikTok.”

You continued playing your part, ignoring your sister’s interruptions as you usually did “Of course I’m carrying a taser, Jane, I’m not an animal…”

“I’ll give you 5 bucks to tase him.”

“You know what, this coffee is not even worth the visual harassment, God I hate men…”

You walked out of the coffee house, hand empty but with a fulfilled sick sense of accomplishment as you stepped out into the street with a shit-eating grin.

“I hope you know what you’re doing” Jane said and you could hear the smile in her voice. Out of your two sisters, Jane was never the one to tell you to not do something, preferring to let you make your own mistakes.

And boy, did you.

You left your big, beautiful, tattooed mistake behind you, ready to move on to something less prone to disappointment, such as fictional men and your Stardew Valley husband “Dont worry” you told your sister “I don’t.”.

—

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asked, left eye twitching slightly at your unbothered expression.

After your confusing exit from the coffee shop and a good amount of jabs from his friends, Jungkook had to hunt you down across campus, finding you sitting under a tree with a book in your hands, looking way too peaceful for someone who just had humiliated him.

You looked down at your book with an arched eyebrow “Kegels, clearly. Why?”

“No, I mean…” Jungkook’s frustration was rising by the second, the vein on his neck jumping out “Why are you acting like you don’t know me?”

You frowned.

“Do I know you?” you asked, face doubtful.

“We have classes together?”

You blinked, impassive.

“We went on a date?”

A head shake.

“We slept together!”

“Nope, can’t say it rings any bells.”

That’s it. Jungkook was actually convinced you were clinically insane.

“How can you not remember?”

“How can I remember something that never happened?”

“But it did! You’re crazy! I chased you for weeks!”

You smiled, a trap.

“So, you're, like, in love with me?” you ask, tone condescending.

Jungkook scoffed and you weren’t sure if it was at the idea of love or loving you. “No, of course not.”

“So in this dream scenario of yours, we had sex but we weren’t together?”

“Trust me, this” he gestured between the two of you “is no dream scenario.”

“Well, aren’t you a charmer” you crossed your arms in front you, defensive “Let me get this straight. You, allegedly, chased me for weeks, but don’t really like me. Then, we had casual, out-of-relationship sex and then what? You banged my head against the headboard so hard I completely forgot about it? Your story is full of holes, my dude.”

You had to fight back the urge to smirk, energy spiking from feeding off of Jungkook’s stupefied confusion.

Nail in the coffin, you shrugged, turning your eyes back to your book “Maybe you weren’t that memorable and my mind deleted you like a childhood trauma.”

A slight left eye spasm was all the reaction you got at first, evolving to the pursing of pouty lips and the clenching of fists.

“You are insane” he said at last after seconds of turning clogs in his barely filled mind.

“Finally you said something true.”

Jungkook was equally bewildered and furious. He didn’t know what your deal was or what you were getting out of this, but your refusal to admit you had sex pissed him off deeply considering how much time and effort he put into getting you together.

“Also, I have to ask” you continued, clearly not done with your pursuit of driving him up the wall “what was your goal with this conversation? Chasing me for weeks to then sleep with me and then come here and tell me you’re not actually interested in me, but being upset when I don’t remember something that didn’t happen… What’s the point?”

Jungkook paused. Truly, he didn’t have much of an end goal in mind, actions fueled only by a bruised ego and a childish, borderline pathological need to prove himself.

When he didn’t answer, you stood up and gathered your things, keeping your head down to hide your poorly concealed satisfaction “I’ll let you ponder on that” you said “Don’t worry about reaching out with an answer, though.”

Finally, you looked up at him, face masked with faux awkwardness. “Anyway. Nice to meet you, I guess? No, actually, not really, this was weird as shit. You seem to have some things to figure out. Get help and take care, my dude.”

And so you left, leaving behind only a cloud of your bergamot perfume and a perplexed Jungkook blinking owlishly.

There was a sudden influx of thoughts rushing through his usually much less busy mind, the general tone of confusion ringing amongst humiliation and frustration.

When Jungkook first set his greedy eyes on you, he had an inkling that you’d be a handful and in the beginning, you truly were. You took pleasure in making everything much more difficult for him, running from his presence like the plague and approaching the whole subject of him like one would the subject of warts - reluctantly and with caution.

And if he were honest, he wasn’t too sure on why he insisted, but one would be surprised at how far Jungkook would escalate things out of spite and resentment.

It was that same sick combination of flavors that drove him insane for weeks, moving him to pester you until you gave him a chance. And he took it, lord, did he take it.

That night, he made every possible effort to please you, cloaked in his best, non-ranch stained clothes and best non-arrogant behavior.

And when morning came and he opened up his eyes before you did, tired out from the epitome of his bestest behavior, there was a moment of quiet as he watched you eyelids flutter delicately, soft arm draped lightly over his waist.

The night before had been… Fun, he thought, even before you had reached your bedroom. You were weird and used a bunch of words he didn’t know, but you also made him laugh and listened to him babbling about his interest without once looking bored, even going as far as asking questions about his farfetched MCU theories.

And despite your many (too many to count, insurmountable really) differences, you had… Chemistry, one could call it. Thick chemistry, palpable tension, pushing you towards each other despite your previous attempts to go the other way.

But no amount of chemistry could break Jungkook’s routine as inertia pushed him out of your bed, practiced steps light as feathers as he escaped your apartment with one last look to your sleeping form and somehow one less sock on his feet.

And as he left, there was an undiagnosed pounding in his heart he tried to chalk off as the result of his Dorito and monster drink based diet, but his eyes kept flashing back to where you rested even when he was miles away.

He tried to make sense of your persistent presence in the back of his mind. You were cool, he’d give you that. Hot too. But it didn’t matter how your body fit his like they were manufactured together or how your passive aggressive way of flirting (or insulting, he had a hard time telling them apart with you) never failed to steal a snort from his lips. And yeah, it was kind of nice when you called him cute everytime he didn’t understand something you said. It brought a blush to his cheeks and wild butterflies to his stomach, because… Well, no one had ever called him cute after middle school. Hot? Yes. Sexy? Once a week. Biggest dick ever? Yes, both meanings.

But not cute. And deep down, under layers of aggressively oversized shirts and muscles… Jungkook kind of liked being cute.

Jungkook shook that thought away. Despite all that, you were a point he had to make.

And he did! Point proven and undisputed, up until you looked at him like he was a silly little kid throwing a tantrum (which he kind of was) and questioned him and his sanity,

But Jungkook was obstinate and, even more, the sorest of losers. He had proven himself once and would again! He was a man on a mission, he decided, watching you walk away from him while mouthing the words “I’ll pray for you!”. And the mission was to either send you into a psychiatric hospital or get you back into his bed.

And if the butterflies in his stomach fluttered excitedly at that second prospect, he didn’t allow himself to ponder on it for a single second.

°•. ✿ .•°

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#bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic

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bunny584 · 4 days

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OBSESSED: SHOKO feat THE BOYS (FINALE)

A/N: Well, well, well. Oh how the tables have turned, dear reader. It’s not so easy — juggling two special grades and their personal physician…is it?

S/N: This is it. The pièce de résistance. I was…this is…NO ONE LOOK AT ME AFTER YOU READ THIS. No idea the word count. Long af, though.

C/W:….the trio is their own content warning lol. Mature. 18+, MDNI.

Part I, Part II.

Is this…a dream?

This must be what it feels like to hear Domain Expansion, Infinite Void.

White static coats Shoko’s brain. She’s breathing underwater. Thinking in molasses.

It’s a miracle her legs are working — they’re currently trailing behind you and the boys, back to her apartment.

Her eyes are working, too — they’re attached to the dress rippling and bouncing off your ass. Your hips are a hypnotic pendulum. Swinging back and forth.

Back and forth.

The tailwind from your strut is a bad actor.

Every so often teasing your cotton panties that won the lottery. Kissing up against your pretty petals. Riding along the plump curve of your mounds. Accentuating the intoxicating swell of your hips.

It’s paralyzing.

You are paralyzing.

Satoru’s hand is curled around the back of your neck. His azure glow is so pristine, so bright it refracts off your gorgeous cheekbones. Dampening his Limitless and intensifying his Six Eyes.

Because the first to taste a meal is usually one’s eyes…right?

Shoko can nearly hear the depravity ringing between Satoru’s ears.

Then there’s Suguru.

An arm is draped around your waist, capturing and releasing the hem of your dress every few seconds. Mindless movements. His sniper-like gaze focused on the apartment door at the end of the hall.

Cool. Calm. Collected.

One would think, if you don’t know Suguru well enough.

His normally, perfectly repressed cursed energy surrounds him. Flickering into the air like campfire embers just waiting for the next gust of wind to erupt. Amethyst and graphite swarm around her best friend — the only indicator of his disintegrating self-control.

20 steps left until she is expected to produce door keys. The only thing standing between everyone and you.

This is it.

This is the moment. The one chance you get at ‘doing it right this time.’

15 steps.

There are no more wishes granted. No more genies stuffed into bottles, or whatever. This is it.

10 steps.

Get your shit together, Ieiri.

Do not squander this on the sidelines.

Shoko wires around the three of you. Stepping ahead to slot the frivolous piece of aluminum standing between her and her wet dream.

The apartment door flies open. Satoru’s hand moves on autopilot — deepening his grip around your neck.

His conscious brain recedes. Triple distilled, unadulterated need moves in like a tropical storm.

Silky strands of your hair plaited in his fingers.

Wide, warm eyes locked into his.

Tiny slit in those pouty, siren lips of yours.

He will dismantle you. Piece by fucking piece.

Until you’re a babbling, sobbing brook beneath his fingers. Apologizing for being such a cocktease.

“Satoru…?”

There’s a change in your voice.

Fear? Nerves?

Prey finally realizing who is next on the menu?

Satoru is staring. Fully aware of how disarming his eyes can be. Born with godlike vision and somehow the only thing he can see in the room is you.

His greed is a threat to National Security. DEFCON Level 1.

His mouth ghosts yours. Barely registering Suguru encasing you from behind. Trailing his palms along your thighs.

“Safe word, princess.” Satoru maps every ridge, every teeth indent on that gorgeous bottom lip.

“For when you need to tap out.” Suguru augments Satoru’s command. Gentle nip at the tip of your ear and you moan. Bitten back and clipped.

“Such pretty sounds,” Shoko’s voice is distant. Breathy. Coated in Cabernet.

“I..don’t—”

Satoru slices your protest in half. Rolling your bottom lip under his teeth. Biting and licking his way across your pout. At the same time Suguru drops his mouth to your pulse point.

“Don’t what, sweetheart?” Suguru murmurs into your neck. A filthy fucking whine escapes your lips and Satoru’s fingers go to your nipple.

Hard. Pert and neglected. Desperate for attention.

Just like you.

The way you’re panting into Satoru’s mouth. Listless and loose, bending into Suguru’s presence behind you.

“He gave you an order, baby.” Suguru’s smile is so tender. Almost torturous against your oversensitive skin.

“Don’t…ah..don’t need a safe word.”

A weak declaration against Satoru’s kiss. Earning yourself a sharp twist of your sensitive buds. And gifting him a kitten squeal that makes his cock twitch.

“Ohhhh Suguru, Shoko. We have a brat on our hands.” He muses, hovering his lips over yours. Satoru pets the steel rod between his legs. Already dewy with his arousal.

You are so beautiful, trying to resist their coordinated touch. The sound of Suguru’s large hand palming your ass reverberates throughout the room.

“I’ll teach her some manners.”

Suguru’s voice trails down your spine. Slow and sickly sweet. Like maple sap dripping down tree bark mid spring. He caresses the hot sting from his spanking.

“I—I have manners.” Voice as small as your frame engulfed between the 6’3 counterparts.

“I won’t ask again, princess.” Satoru tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. And Suguru continues sucking kisses into your neck, marking his territory.

“Uh..mmm..god, S—“ Your eyes flutter closed. An earnest attempt to stay present. And not settle into the fuzzy, warm submission they are baiting you into.

“Safe word, now.”

“B—um. Blue? Blue.” Your resolve is about as rigid as cotton.

“Blue?”

“Well that’s not fair.”

Shoko and Suguru’s incredulous reactions intertwine with Satoru’s smug chuckle. A dusty rose high on your cheeks.

You know why you chose Blue. Everyone else does, too.

“Blue, huh?” Satoru presses a soft kiss on your lips.

“To match me? Noted, baby.”

Shoko melts into her couch. Her heartbeat rattles around her skull. With short, ineffective breaths that taste like full bodied red wine. Wet heat surges around her lace thong.

The way you’re writhing between her best friends’ hands is sinful.

Gazing up at Satoru like he is Vincent Van Gogh and the Starry Night above you is the product of his paintbrush.

Incoherent as if Suguru’s fingers put the Sun to bed. Whimpering his name like a prayer.

Adorable, girl.

God isn’t going to save you here.

The pads of Shoko’s cool fingers nearly sizzle against her puffy pleasure point. Slick coating her with just one, two, three long stripes against her sticky folds.

“God...fuck..bring her to me.” The grit in Shoko’s tone scrapes along her voice box. Matching the aggressive pace of her fingers against her needy cunt.

The boys lock gazes with their third. Cavalier smile tugging against Satoru’s lips. Suguru’s brow touches his hairline.

Ladies, first.

“You heard her.” Satoru snakes your arms around his neck and hoists you around his waist in one fluid motion.

“S—sato—“ He bullies his tongue back into your mouth. No more protesting, gorgeous.

Slow steps towards Shoko, so he can drink from your well. A sweet, delectable spell dripping from your lips. And if Satoru doesn’t wake up tomorrow morning after eating your forbidden fruit, then so be it.

Suguru lets himself watch you from a short distance.

His hand can’t stop rubbing his cock. Shamelessly tugging his heavy rod. Burning your little expressions into his mind’s safe. The way your eyebrows come together at the center whenever Satoru bites your bottom lip. Your desperate grabs for air against his relentless kiss.

“Hi, pretty.” Shoko drawls the moment Satoru settles you down on her lap. Her thigh digs into your soaked, gummy core. Glazing her skin with your drool.

“Hi, Sho.” Still panting from Satoru’s embrace. So fragile. A harsh breeze could shatter you to stardust. And Shoko pulsates around nothing.

One hand is firm on your hip. The other tracing mindless shapes on your chest. Leaving a poetic cascade of goosebumps in her wake.

Reflexively, you go to caress Shoko’s shoulders only to be caught by Satoru’s enormous grip. Whipping both of your wrists behind your back. While his other hand toys with the erection straining against his pants.

“She didn’t give you permission to touch, did she princess?” He drops his tone into the shell of your ear.

“Oh, I—“

“Manners, gorgeous.” A gentle reminder in between smearing kisses along your neck. Shoko hooks her index finger along your neckline. One tug and your mouth-watering tits come into full view.

“Fucking, hell.”

“God, baby.”

“Perfect…fucking perfect.”

Satoru, Suguru and Shoko’s praises crash into one another. God took his time with you. Sculpting a fucking masterpiece.

To be praised.

To be worshipped.

To be taken.

Used.

Filled.

“Shoko. I want to hear her.”

Suguru’s command is guttural. Fist snug around the base of his cock. Shameless about the tears of precum falling down his shaft.

Shoko’s fingers work their way down to your pulsing clit. You preen into her touch. Pretty, tiny gasps against her cheek.

“Let it out, baby.” Shoko coos into your ear. Thumbing little circles around your clit.

You bury your face into her neck. Delicious ache swelling between your legs. Grinding along her slender thigh. Honey seeping around your clothed cunt.

“S—sho, mmnngh..fuck..” Desperation fans Shoko’s neck. Bucking your hips with your hands restrained.

“There she is.”

Suguru’s fist slams to his hilt. Now close enough to cup your perky mound. Rippling and bouncing with every jolt. Feathering his finger over your pebbled bud.

The sudden touch and velvet voice above you drags your gaze upward.

And Suguru nearly cums in his hand right then and there.

Misty eyes, drool covered lips. Breathy pants. Angelic features rewritten by lust.

“Suguru?”

“Such a good girl. Keep fucking her thigh like that, baby.”

Throaty praise in return. Suguru rips his hand away from his angry length. Staving off his finish.

Not yet.

They’re not remotely close to being done with you yet.

“She’s so responsive.” Satoru chimes in. Releasing his grip on your wrists.

Your hands fly to Shoko’s face. Melding your mouth with hers. Leaking precious sounds, from your lips and your sopping wet core. His hand kneads your neglected breast, pinching your nipple every so often.

Satoru and Suguru palming at your tits. Shoko fucking your mouth with her tongue. You humping Shoko’s leg like a dog in heat.

It’s too much.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashes into your groin. You nestle into the crook of her neck. Grasping at her thick, brunette locks.

“S-sho, I’m close, I’m—mmgh..”

“It’s okay pretty,” Shoko husks. Her thumb at a perfect rhythm and pressure.

“You can cum, baby.” Suguru rasps, tugging at your nipple at the same time Satoru smacks the supple flesh he was petting.

“Oh fuck oh fuck—“

The delicious sting from their touches sends you over the edge. And the wire seated deep in your stomach snaps. Hips stuttering to an abrupt stop.

The room stills. Satoru, Suguru and Shoko studying your micro movements through your peak. So quiet that the walls have to lean in to hear you and your lovers breathing.

Six eyes laser into your body. Everyone’s appetite for you simultaneously tripling.

Satoru swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. Subconsciously aware of the pool of saliva forming. His manhood mirroring the trail of drool running down his mouth.

He’s always been a fan of dessert.

“I need to taste you.”

“And I need a front row seat.” Shoko nibbles at your cheek.

Satoru lifts and spins you around on Shoko’s lap in a matter of seconds. You, still gummy and compliant from your orgasm spread your legs weakly over Shoko. Earning you a chorus of praise from your lust-drunk lovers.

He drops to his knees. His blushing, weeping tip in hand. Pushing your sodden panties to the side. While Shoko cradles your thigh in her hand, holding you open for her best friend.

Your rose blooms in front of him. Dewy with your slick. Candied scent holding all of Satoru’s senses hostage.

“Look at how pretty, she is.” He breezes against your swollen pearl. Your petals quiver, and his dick leaks.

“S—Satoru..please.”

Satoru’s head is spinning. Entirely drunk off of the sight of you like this. Choking back his own pathetic groans.

His tongue licks a long stripe up your ripe folds. And your taste pollenates his mind for an eternity. An addict with his chosen vice.

Your hands magnet to his snowy halo. The melody you sing from his kisses and licks could sink any ship. Echoing in Satoru’s and Shoko’s groin.

Shoko is in a complete haze. Molesting herself numb at the way you undulate against Satoru’s eager tongue. Pitiful little mewls that are worthy of a platinum record.

“Feeling good, gorgeous?” Shoko eggs you on. Quickly sinking into her own threatened orgasm.

“Y—yes..mmgh so..god..” Paper thin squeals from your lips.

Crystals line your eyes in response to Satoru’s tongue fucking in and out of your pussy. Suckling your clit. Figures of 8, and 8 and 8 again until your mind is mush.

Except Suguru refuses to let you get lost at Satoru’s sea. He grips a handful of your hair, whipping your head in his direction.

Both you and Shoko tilt up to see Suguru’s driveling manhood at your eye level. Veiny, heavy. So clearly abused by his hand. Volcanic eruption in his hooded gaze.

“Hands on my cock, baby.”

Barely above a whisper, but somehow your body recognizes his authority.

And you seem genuinely shocked by your visceral obedience. Immediate acquiescence to Surguru’s will.

An approving grin teases Suguru’s lips. Your hands are comically small wrapped around his length.

God, he could split you in half.

Heavy eyelids from Satoru’s agonizing touch, you’re mystical. Gazing into Suguru’s eyes like his soul is nothing but an appetizer. Yours to swallow, digest, play with.

“Ask nicely.” Suguru grunts, as your eyes rake over his leaky cockhead. Longing for a taste.

Satoru and Shoko come to a hush. Her fingers slow. Satoru forces himself off of your folds. Somehow knowing the next words to roll off your tongue will shift their brain chemistry, permanently.

Palatial lashes fan your utterly fucked-out gaze. Swollen lips millimeters away from Suguru’s blunt tip.

“May I suck your cock, please?”

Filthy-nasty-dirty-fucking-vulgar noises fill the room, while you swirl Suguru’s cum covered head around your tongue.

“Fuck. Your lips baby.” He hisses, his hips piston into your pretty, accepting mouth.

“So messy, princess.” Satoru murmurs into your swollen cunt, slipping his fingers past your tight ringlet.

Beautiful gurgles around Suguru’s shaft. Crystalline streams of spit glazing your puffy tits.

You buck into Satoru at a similar, haphazard pace that he strokes his thick rod. Shoko sinks her teeth into your shoulder.

“G-gonna c..gonna—“ high pitched, broken warnings spill from your lips. Just as a blinding wave of electricity surges down Shoko’s legs — curling her pedicure inward.

“Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me.”

Suguru’s decadent baritone sends both you and Shoko over the hot edge. A cacophony of huffs and whines, coating the walls in your shared ecstasy. Spraying your essence all over Satoru’s face.

He’s slow to stand. Savoring remnants of your peak. He and Suguru exchange sordid glances. Sharing the same thought.

Pretty little doll.

Loose limbed and spent in Shoko’s lap. Hair mused. So deeply entrenched into sub space you’ll need to sleep it off of to come to your senses.

A work of art, you are.

But not quite broken, yet.

“It’s our turn now, little one.” Deep and measured. Thick with want. Suguru lifts you by your arms off of Shoko’s lap.

His back lays flush against the couch. You straddle his muscular lap. Satoru stands directly behind you.

Suguru’s manhood is rigid. You’d have to impale yourself on him to get any closer. Similarly, Satoru’s length makes itself very present along the curve of your spine.

“Look at me.” Satoru’s throaty demand comes from above your head.

Obedience is the only language you can currently speak, so you tilt back. Soaking in the celestial boy behind you. Closer to God than Man, from this vantage point.

“You want to taste yourself, baby?”

A rhetorical question from Satoru, but you still bobble your head in an eager yes.

“Such a desperate little puppy, aren’t you?” Suguru mocks you, taking one of your puffy nipples into his mouth.

“She is.”

Satoru affirms in between spearing your mouth with his warm muscle. Kissing the breath directly from your lungs until you’re air hungry and clawing at his neck. Leaving red streaks on his pale skin.

Shoko has since poured herself another glass of red wine. Settling herself on the long arm of her couch.

‘Far enough to drown into her own spiral. Close enough to register everything they do to you in the the most permanent part of her mind.’

Dèjá Vu.

But this lifetime? This reiteration of events? It’s fucking sublime.

Shoko’s lips curl into a cheshire smile against the rim of her glass. Hedonistic on every single level known to man and she wouldn’t have it any another way.

Her eyes flicker down to where Suguru’s hands are eclipsing your hips. And Satoru’s hands are cradled into the small of your waist. Hovering you over Suguru’s cock. The weapon of mass destruction that it is.

“Suguru…Suguru it won’t…” Beautiful little panic ascending in pitch.

“It won’t, what baby?” He teases. Eyes fixed on you like the apex predator he is.

Crimson erupts from the tip of your nose to the tips of your ears. Fluttering away from his quicksand gaze.

“What’s the matter, pretty? Don’t tell me you think you can’t handle—“

“I can handle it—I can…handle it.” You cut Satoru’s taunt down, convincing absolutely no one in the room— including yourself.

But the shred of pride you have left comes forward. Bracing your hands on Suguru’s flexed shoulders. Digging little crescent moons into his olive skin.

He can barely bite back the groan in his throat when your wet heat drags along his cockhead.

Twitching around your opening.

Feigning for entry.

“Go ahead, little one.”

“You can do it, baby.”

“Oh FUCK..GOD.” Your volume is nothing in comparison to the fire incinerating your plush walls. Stretching your womanhood in a way that’s ungodly.

Suguru is blinding.

Flashing lights. Black spots in the visual field. Floaters everywhere kind of blinding. The prior encouragement from your lovers did nothing to soften his blow.

Knowing this would be the result of you trying to work his inhuman length inside yourself, Suguru buries himself in one side of your neck. Satoru mirrors his action on the other side.

Gentle adoration. Tender kisses. Light caresses to dull the pain.

“Such a good girl.”

“I knew you could take it, princess.”

“You’re doing so well for me, pretty girl.”

Suguru rocks his hips in a slow, dreamy pace. Back and forth. Encouraging your body to reset around him. And the pressure. The delicious fucking fullness from his cock is mind numbing.

“R—ready.”

Barely loud enough to register. But Suguru could hear your red blood cells colliding with one another in your veins if you keep him next to you long enough.

“Eyes on me when I’m inside you, sweetheart.”

“Yes sir.”

The smile on his lips is no where near as tantalizing as the smile in his crushed velvet eyes.

And for a moment that is going to be on cinematic repeat in everyone’s mind — Suguru thrusts into you like a man trying to repopulate earth. Never once letting you break his eye-contact.

Melodic sounds of bodies smacking together ring throughout the room. Beautiful ripples of flesh, like soft waves during low tide. Your wet sex colliding with his. Him locking you into place because nothing else exists at this moment.

Both Satoru and Shoko’s jaws are slack. Satoru can’t even bring himself to stroke his length thrashing wildly in his hands.

This is hypnotizing.

A motion picture worthy of an Oscar.

You can feel Suguru recreating the shape of your soul. With each thrust. Deliberate. Deep. Ensuring that he will be a part of you, permanently.

“God, ngh Su—fuck..purple..” unintelligible words, incoherent sounds. You’re grasping at rescue from this pleasure.

“Hah..” Suguru’s serrated breaths kiss your lips. “Try again.”

“Suguru, please. I’m cu—I’m pink..pink.”

“Wrong color, princess.” Satoru’s husks above you. Tears of his thick cum streaming steady down his shaft.

Suguru’s bucks into you relentlessly now. Chasing the high you both are riding. Shredding what consciousness you have left. Not that you wanted it, not that you needed it.

“Fuck.”

Suguru’s hips come to a screeching halt. Floating over Shoko’s cushion. Painting your warm walls with his seed. With you filling his lap with your dew. Delirious, choppy intakes of air between your lips and his.

Momentarily forgetting your audience, you instinctively fall into his chest. Every single muscle in your body, suddenly without tone.

Satoru’s mouth is ajar.

Still not completely comprehending the fact that he just came — hands free — watching his best friend rail the conscious mind out of you.

“Blanket, Satoru.” Shoko quietly nudges from her position on the couch.

She can’t blame him for being stunned in place. Her mind is still reeling at the dessert her eyes just feasted on.

“Come here, baby.” Suguru murmurs. Working himself out of you, while Satoru drapes you in Shoko’s throw.

“Thank you.” A tiny chuckle escapes your lips. Cozying into Suguru’s arms. They should be proud of your manners.

And as if you said your cheeky thought out loud, your three lovers break into soft laughter.

“Wait here.” Satoru presses a chaste kiss to your damp forehead. Disappearing into Shoko’s bathroom a moment after.

A small sigh of relief tumbles out of her when she hears the familiar sound of bath water running.

Satoru must’ve done this before. Once or twice.

Suguru, too.

Judging by the way he’s whispering sweet affirmations in your ear. Lulling you to sleep. In his warm, safe embrace.

She’s never seen her friend like this.

“Girls! Bath time!” Satoru beckons from the bathroom.

His voice rustles you out of your post coital daze. Nestling deeper into the crook of Suguru’s neck. Shoko watches the way his eyes rest on your flushed face; stroking his hand along your arm. Intermittently pressing kisses along your hairline.

An enchanting, glass doll they were so eager to shatter just a moment ago.

“Ready, baby?”

Suguru murmurs into your ear. And Shoko just knows he’s hoping for a no. Silently praying for more time with you, pliant in his arms like this.

“Mmhm.” Your puffy lips curl up into a sleepy smile. Glossy-eyed, when you finally pull your heavy lids open.

Suguru’s breath catches in his throat.

Shoko’s heart rattles around its bony cage.

How do you do this?

How do you make it so easy to trip and fall so hopelessly in love with you with a bat of an eyelash?

“…I get it guys, but the water will get cold. And that would be a shame. Because this bath is, perfect.”

Satoru teases from the bedroom doorway. Startling Shoko and Suguru out of the trance you unintentionally put them in.

“You don’t have to carry me!” A half-protest bubbles from your lips when Suguru stands with you wrapped up in Shoko’s favorite blanket.

“Shhh, let me do this sweet girl.” He coos, for your ears only. Navigating around Satoru’s lean stature.

Shoko follows closely behind him, itching for her alone time with you.

“You’re going to let her feet touch the ground, Suguru?!”

Her sarcasm is followed by light-hearted laughter settling around your bodies.

The four of you in tandem like a world class orchestra. Shoko is already lamenting waking up from this dream.

“Not if I can help it.” Suguru sets you down on the kitchen sink. Nudging enough space for his muscular hips between your legs.

He cradles your chin in his hand. Taking as many butterfly kisses as you’ll allow.

“Mmm, goodnight, Suguru.”

His name rolls sweet and soft off of your tongue. Like a dark chocolate truffle, and suddenly Shoko wishes her name was Suguru.

Satoru does too. Judging by the way he yanks his counterpart away from you. His eyes caress your face before his hand does.

“How are you feeling, princess?”

Hushed and saccharine. Doting. As if a decibel too loud is akin to Hollow Purple. Circling his fingers around your thighs.

How foreign.

Shoko can almost taste Satoru’s concern. Attentive in a way that’s inconceivable.

From her vantage point, she watches you ensnare Satoru in those big, helpless doe eyes. Tempting him to fuck the living daylight out of you (again) but also handle you like a butterfly with a broken wing.

“Just a bit worn out, pretty boy.” Said with a dreamy little laugh. And Satoru would chase your voice into the clouds if he could.

He drapes your arms around his neck and you’re putty in his hands.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby.” He grazes the corner of your lips with his. A dull, insistent ache welling between Shoko’s legs.

You’re irresistible like this.

“Unless you want us to wear you out, again.”

“Satoru!” Your tiny, ineffectual fists slam against Satoru’s pecs. Making the trio even more fond of you.

Their muse.

“Alright boys, I can take it from here.”

Unhurried but finite, Shoko shoos her best friends out of the bathroom. Not before Satoru can steal one last kiss from your swollen lips.

In a matter of minutes Shoko is settled in a sea of warm, eucalyptus bubbles. The light sheen of essential oil grazing her skin, still glimmering with remnants of love-making.

Her eyes ride the dips and swells of your alluring lines.

Balmy skin decorated with lust-drunk imprints from Satoru, Suguru and herself. Hand prints. Tiny crescent moons from fingernails. Ellipses of bite marks. A kaleidoscope of red, blue, deep purple. Living, breathing residue of the desperation — the need — you so easily draw from them.

“Such a pretty girl.”

You flush under Shoko’s praise. Newly stroked desire bubbling in the back of her throat. You’re so full of averted gazes and warmed cheeks. Twiddling your thumbs. Tentatively shifting a few paces away from the bathtub.

So shy, now. It’s adorable.

“Come here, baby.” Shoko curls her fingers inward.

“Okay.” Your response high and thin. Feet moving without resistance.

Obedient little doll.

Shoko’s wet dreams couldn’t even come up with a vision this decadent. You’re an oil painting. Soft on the hands, even softer on the eyes.

You nestle in the warm waters between Shokos legs. Her nipples pebble against your supple flesh. Resting the back of your head on her chest. A lock-in-key fit.

Comfortable, serene quiet sheaths the room around you. And Shoko is soaring.

“I like you like this.” She presses a small kiss against your temple.

“Like what?” You whisper.

Shoko’s hands travel up your navel, cupping your sensitive tits. You arch into her touch. Kitten mewls escape you. So responsive.

“Soft.” Your nipples stiffen between her thumb and index finger.

“Vulnerable…a little broken.” Shoko continues. Catching your needy gaze. Pupils blown to full moons. She hovers her lips over yours. Already parted, hanging open. Ready to receive.

“Shoko.”

Such a beautiful, pitiful little whine. Tilting your chin up, chasing Shoko’s lips. But she maintains the minimal distance. Instead, kneading your mounds. Drawing a gorgeous melody of whimpers; squirming beneath her ministrations.

“I like being the one to put your pieces back together,” Shoko teases, dropping her tone. And you draw her in like a moth to flame.

Shoko’s lips slot into yours with ease. Puzzle pieces meant to fit. She swipes her tongue over yours. Nibbles along your puffy bottom lip.

You’re delicious.

And panting, when Shoko finally pulls away. Aurora borealis in your eyes. Sparkling. Expansive.

And even though you are putty in her hands right now. Docile and pliant, hanging on every brush of a finger, every kiss. Shoko is falling.

Free falling.

Without a safety stop in sight.

414 notes · View notes

crimsonbubble · 10 months

Note

Hello! Hope you're having a wonderful day/night.

I'm not sure if you're taking requests but...

Just came on here to ask if you could write a Professor!Miguel O'Hara x Student!Reader type au?

Please and thank you for listening! 🤍🙌🏼

cw. nsfw, gn college student!reader, professor!miguel, age gap (reader 20s, miguel 40s), forbidden relationship (?), manhandling, fingering, oral (m receiving), cum eating, praise, degradation, cockwarming, spanking, one use of 'daddy' *not proofread, just pure horny

[IM SOREY I GOT TO THIS SK LATE AAAAAAAA 🥹🥹]

MINORS DNI!!

another day, another class. college seems to be keeping you swamped with essays and assignments, but a certain someone's class made the workload that tad bit easier.

Mr. Miguel O'Hara, your biochemistry professor. you knew you weren't the only one with your eyes on him. he was tall, incredibly handsome, and made paying attention worth it when he'd turn his back to the students. if you asked anyone in your class, you'd all unanimously agree that Mr. O'Hara is undoubtedly attractive. you've imagined things that would haunt you till the day you died.

being bent over his desk or being sat on his desk while his hands curl into your spots. clutching at his broad shoulders as he kissed and bit at your neck, pressing the pads of his fingers insistently into the spot that had you seeing stars. slotting your lips together as you come undone, trying to muffle the sounds from being heard by others. hearing him coo out praises as he made you writhe and shake on his desk.

tears streaming down your cheeks and saliva dripping down your chin as he held your mouth at the base of his cock. letting out a rumbling groan as you choke and gag on him. pulling you off his cock so he can lean down and capture your lips in a sloppy tooth and tongue-filled kiss.

"gotta be quiet, honey. can't have others hearing us." "that's it, just like that. being so fucking good for me." "oh you filthy little slut, look how much of a mess you made."

even with all the eyes that linger on him, he has his eyes on you. you've piqued his interest when you first popped into his class and he almost didn't want to admit that he looked forward to the days when he got to see you.

it was when he had bumped into you at the coffee shop near your college that set your relationship into motion. you had stopped by there during your break between classes, needing a little pick-me-up. Miguel simply needed more caffeine to keep him awake for his next and final class of the day. you two decided to get a table together and chat, and yes, Miguel did insist on paying, meaning he paid before you could even get your wallet out of your bag. he ushered you off to a table with a soft tut and waited for your drinks.

as you bonded over drink blends and classes, your alarm for your next class rang. Miguel sighed and checked his watch, before getting up along with you. he quickly scribbled something on a napkin and gave it to you, giving you a soft smile and winking quickly as he left. you grabbed your stuff and rushed off to your next class. you fishes the crumpled napkin out of your pocket and nearly dropped your drink as you read the note over and over.

even with such a simple note consisting of his number and a small "text me when you're free? ♡" made your heart flutter and a familiar warmth spread across your face.

In the following days, Miguel made an effort to slip in some inconspicuous praise at any given time. when you do good on an assignment, when you ask questions in class, and of course when he has his thick and heavy cock buried between your thighs. he never holds back on praise; you deserve it. but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to discipline.

he's a college professor, of course, he should know. so he's not partial to having you cockwarm him while he grades assignments and essays. if you've managed to catch him at a bad time, yet still insist on pushing buttons, he won't hesitate to pull you down over his lap. he'll tug your pants down just under your ass and leave it rosy, hot, and stinging. though he immediately follows up with soft caresses as he lifts you into his lap properly, gently soothing your skin as you sniffle lightly.

"you're okay, sweetheart. I'm almost done, then you can have daddy's attention, yeah?"

#bubbly speaks <3 #ash answers #bubbly writes <3 #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #spiderverse x you #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x reader smut #spiderverse x y/n

1K notes · View notes

dreamywriter143 · 1 year

Text

Scorching Heat

Paring: Neteyam x Y/n (Reader)

Status/Type: Oneshot

Summary: Y/n usually insures she is away from home for ‘training’ whenever her heat cycle starts. She hates feeling needy, and never wants to burden her mate, Neteyam. What will happen when Ewya decides to bring her heat early this time. How will Y/n react?

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI (Minors STAY AWAY!!), Public/Exhibition (Someone sees Y/n during her heat), Dirty talk, Breeding (mentioned once), Fingering (f-receiving), dumbification, tiny bit of possessiveness and Ao’nung being a pervert. All characters are AGED-UP (19-20’s years).

__________________________________________

“Neteyam” Y/n whines, nuzzling her face into the mat she slept upon, she clutches her lower abdomen in pain. It felt hot, way to hot for what it should have been.

Ever since Neteyam had left their shared Marui for a his regular morning hunt with his Jake and Lo’ak, Y/n has been in agony. Her stomach lurched with butterflies as a unfamiliar heat took over her entire being.

She was sweating profusely, her breaths coming out in pants as she curled up in a fetal position. She couldn’t seem to figure out what had lead to her feeling this…sick?

Was it the clams she shared with Tsireya last night? Was it the yovo fruit she ate immediately after? Did those two different type of food not complainant each other like she had thought it’s had?

Y/n lets out a groan, feeling her stomach flutter, her eyes squeezed shut as she didn’t bother wiping the sweat off her face, she even couldn’t think straight. Her thoughts were muddled together and all she would focus on was the biting heat between her legs.

“Y/n?” A tiny voice calls peeking into the Marui.

Y/n almost missed it, it sounded so distant to her. As if her head were to be submerged under water. She opens her eyes slowly, her vision blurry with tears. She tries to respond back but a another pained whine escapes her lips as she claws at her stomach.

Tsireya gasps, seeing her best friend in this state. She rushes to her side looking her over, her cool hand laying on top of Y/n’s forehead, as she hisses at the cool temperature.

“Y/n , can you hear me? You’re burning up!” She says alarmed again, feeling the heat radiate off her.

Assessing her sweaty skin and pants that racked her friends body she realizes this was severe. Y/n was shivering as if she were cold, but she was sweating from how hot she felt internally. Y/n groans in response unable to form words.

“Dear Eywa” Tsireya whispers realizing what this had to be.

It was her heat.

Tsireya counts the days mentally to the last time Y/N had excused herself for a couple days worth of ‘training’. The time Y/n would spend far away from the safety of the village to wait out her heat. Training was the excuse she used to hide herself away from everyone, even her mate during her heat cycles. It wasn’t an uncommon practice, many other Na’vi females who didn’t want to burden their mates did the same.

Y/n loved her independence. Spending her heats alone was something she had argued with Neteyam over plenty of times. She just didn’t see the appeal of sucking her mate dry for her cycles, every month. Neteyam only allowed it because he would do the same, going far and wide to wait out his ruts in fear of hurting Y/n.

Thus leading to Y/n meticulously tracking all of her heats, planning for her excursions to the T. Planning and prepping ahead of time so she wouldn’t have to rush anything as she slotted enough time alone, out in the wilderness.

But this heat, it came unexpectedly. According to Tsireya’s calculations, Y/n was one week early. Which has never happened before.

“I-I’ll call mother!” She says standing up. Y/n gasps, she didn’t need the Tsahik, she didn’t need her friend. She just wanted Neteyam, she needed her mate.

“Ne-t-” she whispers, her voice shaky. Tsireya pauses, her shoulders tense.

“But Y/n-”

“Neteyam!!!!” She hisses loudly, sounding like a struggled moan.

She didn’t have time to feel embarrassed. She felt a deep itch with him her, an itch she knew her mate could fix. Tsireya flushes red at her friends state nodding.

She quickly leaves Y/n’s Marui heading to her own. She had a device that Lo’ak had given both her and Y/n in case of emergencies. She intended on calling Neteyam using her device.

~~~~

Ao’nung, who was walking towards Y/n’s Marui to pull her out for a swim stops the moment a scent fills his nostrils. He feels his irises dilate as he deeply inhaled the scent greedily.

He realized the scent was too delicious to ignore, he had to find out where it was coming from. He needed a taste. Coincidentally the scent leads him to Y/n’s Marui. The very girl he was looking for.

He walks in, holding back the growl that threatens to break through. The scent was so thick in the marui it drove him insane.

“Y/-Y/n?” he croaks, clutching the tiny bit of sanity he had in him. He looks her over, his best friend who he loved so dearly. He saw how she was face first into her mat, her bottom in the air as her back arches. She whines loudly hearing a voice, a voice that made her believe it was her mate.

“Neteyam” she breaths out lowly. The burning sensation seemed to intensify with arousal as she realized Neteyam had arrived to help her with her heat. Gasping she slowly rubs herself whist humping into the mat, moans leaving her mouth shamelessly.

She was beyond herself, she had lost herself to her heat. All she wanted now was a release, and to be taken care of. Ao’nung covers his nose, effectively muffling his whines of excitement. The position itself along with her grinding seem to send her scent off in waves, each wave getting stronger and stronger.

He felt his own erection painfully press against his loincloth. He wouldn’t be surprised if he came right then and there watching his friend hump herself to a climax she couldn’t reach. His other free hand reaches down to grab his thick hard cock through his loincloth, squeezing his member in attempt to relief himself of the pain.

“It’s Ao’nung” he says, loudly, still palming his cock to her moans. Each time her voice reaches a high note, he felt himself get that much closer to his own climax. He groans at the sight.

Y/N pants wildly, a part of her wondering why her mate hadn’t mounted her yet. She was in the perfect position to be taken advantage of, she presented herself in such way so Neteyam could fuck her to oblivion. She gently reaches behind in her hunched state, tugging her already soaked loincloth to the side. Exposing her treasure to the cool, but humid air.

The sight of her soaked pussy sent Ao’nung for a loop. His eyes roll back, his breathing is laboured as all he can see is how wet she is. How ready her pussy is for a cock. He saw how it glistened, how it twitched around nothing. Ao’nung groans loudly, biting his lips to contain his growls.

“F-fuckkk-”

Hearing him say something she is again clouded. She couldn’t seem to grasp Ao’nungs desperate attempt to tell her he was not Neteyam. Feeling his limit come closer and closer Ao’nung finally uncovers his nose. He begins to walk deeper into the marui, towards Y/n when he hears yells in the distance.

His ears twitch at the sound of Neteyam’s voice, which seem to snap him out of his trance. Taking one last deep inhale of her scent, Ao’nung takes a careful step back to create some distance. He lets go of his cock just as Neteyam bursts in through the entrance.

His eyes immediately land on his mate, who was still face first into the mat, revealing her glistening folds between her legs. Her essence ran down her legs, adding more delicious aroma into the air. Neteyam feels her need, smells her need. He was able to smell it a good few feet from the marui. His pupils dilated, his nose inhaling deeply to memorize the scent.

Realizing he’s not alone he turns to Ao’nung, his glare deadly. He bares his fangs and hisses harshly. Neteyam takes a step forward, pure rage overcoming his body. Ao’nung looks down, his ears flattening against his head.

“Ao’nung. Out, NOW!!” he says sternly, his chest rumbling with a threatening growl.

He tried his best to stay composed, for his sake as well as his mate. He was also aware that his father and Lo’ak were close behind him when he had rushed home. He didn’t want to create a bigger scene.

Y/n on the other hand, let out an unintentional mewl at the rough sound of his voice, still not being able to figure out who stood by the entrance.

Her tears of frustration clouded her vision, but she was able to pick up Neteyam’s scent. Her mates scent, which only caused her to moan pathetically. Desperately trying to gain his attention.

Ao’nung didn’t need to be told twice, he quickly ducks out of the Marui, his hands covering his still prominent bulge. He would have to deal with that privately, as he marches towards his marui. As soon as he is out, Neteyam rushes to Y/n’s side.

Her scent alone drove him insane, he felt his inner self want to drill into her at that very moment as his eyes lingered over her sopping pussy. Waiting to be filled. She looked to be so wet that he could have easily mounted her right away if her wanted to. But the logical part of him took over, at least for now.

“Yawne, shhhh, shhhhh. Are you alright? Should I fetch you some water?” He whispers, couching down beside her.

He gently brushes the hair from her face which caused her body to jolt wildly upon contact. The entire time Y/n had been edging herself, the mere touch of Neteyam’s fingers on her body sent over over the edge as her body trembled under his touch.

“Fu- I’m-“ Y/n couldn’t finish her sentence as her whole body convulsed under her much needed orgasm. Neteyam’s eyes widen, admiring the way her pussy twitched and clenched with the delicious aftershocks of the orgasm. Neteyam pulls her into his arms cooing softly, he cups her face into his palm.

“Oh babygirl, do you want me to help you with your heat baby? It must feel so painful….”

After the initial orgasm, Y/n had a few moments of clarity, registering Neteyam’s face. She noticed how dilated his irises were, how his breaths hitched and how his fingers danced around her hips enticingly. As if waiting for her to give him permission.

“Neteyam” Y/n whispers, her eyes still watery from the many tears she had already shed.

“I never want to bother you with my heat-“ Neteyam visibly frowns “-which is why I disappear from time to time…..but now-“ Y/n starts feeling the itch deep within her flare up again. More intense than before.

“-It’s….so painful……I need you to fuck me.” Y/n gasps. Neteyam smirks, his free hand trailing down. His fingers working on untying the soaked, useless lioncloth and tossing it aside. Neteyam leans his face closer to her, relishing the look of pure lust clouding her eyes.

“Oh baby girl, I’ll fuck you alright. I’ll make you feel so good you won’t forget the shape of my cock deep in your pussy” Neteyam growls, his fangs grazing over her neck sending shivers down her spine. His fingers spread her swollen wet folds, growling at the feeling of her slickness.

“So wet baby, all for me?” He murmurs quietly, taking in her scent.

“Hmmm”

Y/n’s eyes roll back, feeling two digits enter her pussy gently. The sting and stretch of the two fingers caused her body to twitch out of pleasure. It felt so good, so right.

“You let Ao’nung see this. See the pussy that belongs to me” Neteyam growls, his fingers pumping out of her slowly, but forcefully. Y/n moans in response. She hadn’t known if Ao’nung was here, she also didn’t know what Neteyam was talking about. But she opted to agree with him, to ensure he didn’t stop his movements by any means.

“I’ll fuck you just right baby, I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll be filled with my cum. I want Ao’nung to watch as MY cum drips down your legs” Neteyam whispers, curling his fingers just right.

Y/n whimpers at the sensation.

“Then do it—“ she chokes out.

“-Breed me until I’m plump with your child” Y/n mumbles deliriously.

She tries catching her breath, her heart beating wildly at the thought. Neteyam smirks wide at her plea. Feeling whatever logical part of him shatter at her words, he allowed her heat to fully engulf all of his senses. He was ready to give it his all, no holding back. He was going to fuck her till she forgot her name, he’d make sure of that.

“Anything for my baby girl”

__________________________________________

Note: This is my first ever smut! I’ve always wanted to write smut but I’m worried I’ll be horrible at it! This was a request from my friend so please let me know how you guys think! Was it good? Bad? Should I continue writing smut? Let me know!!

Also while I’m working on my main series: Nga Yawne Lu Oer , I’ll also be doing Prompts, Incorrect Quotes and Oneshots in between. Let me know if you have an requests!

Ps: Pt.2 is OUT. Please check it out!!

#romance #avatar #avatar fanfiction #avatar fic #avatar twow #avatar x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam #neteyam x y/n #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #avatar x reader smut #avatar smut #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam smut

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nostalgebraist · 11 months

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Frank @nostalgebraist-autoresponder will permanently halt operation at 9 PM PST this Wednesday (May 31, 2023).

For context on why, see this post.

(tl;dr this project been a labor of love for me for years, it takes a ton of continual effort, and my heart's not in it anymore.)

----

The blog itself will stay up indefinitely, it just won't make any new posts or accept asks.

Most of the code, models, etc. are freely available right now. Insofar as they are now, they will continue to be. The change on May 31 is unrelated to this stuff.

I've made various interactive demos of these components over the years, and the demos will likely still work after the bot stops. But I won't do any tech support or maintenance on them, and I would actively recommend against using these as a way to "get Frank back."

----

I want to emphasize the following:

The best way for you to "send Frank off" over the next few weeks is to talk to her just like usual.

(And not too often, because she can only make 250 posts a day.)

This is true for a number of reasons, and can be viewed from a number of different angles:

(1)

While it can be fun to anthropomorphize Frank, she is structured very differently from a person, or even an animal.

She does not remember anything, even between two asks made on the same day. Every moment is a new one, with no relation to any other.

If you say "goodbye" or "you're going to be shut off" to her on May 30 2023, it's just as though you had said the same thing to her on some random day last year. She can't tell the difference.

She doesn't know these things are true or relevant now, and she can't possibly know in the way a human would. She's hearing the words for the first time, every time, and reacting in accordance with that.

Think of it like interacting with a baby, or someone with dementia. Every moment stands alone. If you strike a sad tone, they don't appreciate that it's about something. They just know that there is a sad tone, in the current experiential moment.

(2)

Frank mostly operates on a first-come, first-serve basis. She can only make 250 posts a day. There is a limited amount of time left.

Be conscientious about the way you're using up "slots" in this limited array of remaining Frank posts. Don't hog the ride.

(3)

I'm shutting down this bot in part because it's been a long-term, low-grade source of stress to me. I'd like the last weeks of the bot to be as low-stress as they can be.

When Frank gets an unusually large, or just unusual, form of user input over a period of time, I usually have to step in and do something in response.

(if there's way more input than usual and I don't do anything special, Frank will fill up most of her post limit quota before I even wake up, and then the asks will pile up further and further over the rest of the day.)

Maybe I have to delete a bunch of asks. Maybe I have to deploy some temporary change to her mood parameters to prevent the mood from getting too high or low and not coming back to baseline. Maybe I have to turn on "userlist mode," which still involves a cumbersome manual procedure.

Or, maybe I just have to do a lot more content moderation than usual.

"Usual," here, means reviewing and (mostly) approving something like 20 different hypothetical Frank posts per day, every day. If I go do something fun, and let myself forget about this task completely for 6 or 8 hours, there's a backlog waiting for me afterwards. During busy times, there's even more of this.

Just, like, help me chill out a bit, okay? Thanks.

#nostalgebraist autoresponder #nostalgebraist autoresponder meta

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whispereons · 5 months

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Oracle!Reader Part 20

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 19, Part 21

1K special

Warning! This is yandere, sagau imposter au so expect lots of gore in the series. This chapter is tame in comparison to the others.

The moon glimmers in the starlit sky as a hand brushes against your newly scarred skin. Eyelashes fluttering, your vision begins to focus on the plain ceiling above you.

A coarse groan leaves your cracked lips as you flinch from the sudden pressure on your stomach. The hand quickly retreats as a pale green blob comes into view.

"...are…eeling?" The voice is barely picked up as your ears ring. Squinting your eyes, you swallow the dried saliva tasting faintly of blood.

"W-Who?" The word is coughed out as your throat struggles to form the words. Before you can ask for water, a cup is brought to your lips. The cold water brings sweet relief to your parched body.

Your senses begin to sharpen and clarity is brought back to your vision. Baizhu stands next to your bed helping you drink from the cup, though Changsheng isn't wrapped around his neck like she normally would be.

The water runs out and he draws the cup away. "How are you feeling? Your body is technically healed of its major injuries but it's still trying to adjust. The pain will continue to persist for a long while."

"I feel better than before." The reply is automatic as your hand twitches in an effort to move your muscles. The recollection of what had even brought you to Baizhu's care is a slow trickle as you process his words.

Shenhe, Yelan, the treasure hoarders, the fall and Qiqi are slotted into your memory like perfect puzzle pieces. The small pitter-patter of footsteps coming closer to you and the sound of metal being set down goes unheard by you as you focus on sitting up.

Soreness and exhaustion are impossibly heavy weights as you struggle to lift your body a few inches away from the mattress. Gentle hands support your body, along with much smaller ones on your other side.

"Thank you…" Your words are choked out between your bitten lips as a dull ache plagues your body. Clenching the blanket in your fists, you sigh in relief as a cold compress is applied to your bare back.

Wait, your bare back?

The strangeness is not lost on you as you look down at yourself. A thin hospital-like gown is all that you seem to be wearing with the blanket pooled around your waist. It takes a second for you to properly process what this means for you before you’re frantically reaching up to your face.

“No need to fret, your mask was left untouched during the treatment.”

It seems to be the truth, as your fingertips are met with cool porcelain and flaking blood. Not to mention the casual way Baizhu is speaking to you and the lack of Millelith guards swarming you.

Licking your chapped lips, you eventually arrive at the question: where do you go now? Ningguang would surely kill you if she finds out you’re still alive. Zhongli is still expecting an answer, god knows what Yelan would do and Shenhe is a wild card-

The thoughts racing in your mind are abruptly cut off as a metal tray is plopped onto your lap. A warm bowl of soup and yogurt with a soft pastel color greeted you. The refilled cup of water placed on your bedside is ignored as your mouth waters at the sight of the meal.

“Clear chicken carrot soup and fruit-flavored yogurt.” A child-like, monotonous voice comments with a deeper melodic voice following up. “I would have had food suited to your taste, but you hadn’t awoken until now. Are you allergic to anything?”

“Nope.” You replied by popping the ‘p’ before pulling the tray closer and picking up the utensils. Allergies didn’t concern your ravenous mind, as your dormant stomach awakened painfully at the smell of food. Who knows, maybe your creator buff will also prevent any allergic reactions.

An upside to being the creator was something you desperately needed after the saga of pure bullshit you’ve been through.

Baizhu gently directs Qiqi out of the room after instructing her a message you couldn’t bother to hear as you gulp down the food. When he returns, he sits next to you as the moonlight shines down from the window.

“Let me explain your previous and current state while you eat. Qiqi brought you in with multiple minor injuries, a few stab wounds, head trauma, elemental damage, with fractured and broken bones. That’s not even mentioning the severe blood loss and infections beginning to manifest on your poorly healed past injuries.” Each description is like a stab to the heart, with the visualization of your passed out body arriving to Baizhu on death's doorstep crystal clear.

“Thankfully your body reacted well with my elemental healing so the life-threatening wounds were healed, without infections, and your critical condition was toned down. That doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet.”

The soup and yogurt is picked clean, leading you to gulp down the water next. Looking at him, you open your mouth to ask for more food when he cuts you off firmly. “Don’t bother asking for food, the arrows didn’t hit your lungs or heart, but your abdominal organs weren’t spared. You’ll be stuck with light meals until I’m positive it’s safe.”

Resisting a scoff, you ask him. “So what’s my current condition? Will I have to stay here overnight? Hold on, can I even afford that? How much did this treatment even cost?!”

“Please calm down, Y/N.”

“How did you-”

“Your name was etched onto the bag that Qiqi brought along. As for payment, there’s no need to worry. You had a rather generous benefactor that has given us more then enough mora to cover your total cost in every possible scenario.”

That was suspicious beyond belief, but you didn’t have a reason not to believe Baizhu either. Baizhu would have healed you even without payment, but not being in debt was ideal.

This benefactor either wants something from you, wants to kill you themselves, or knows you personally.

A few people come to mind that could fit your suspicions but with so little knowledge you couldn’t confirm anything. Instead, you asked. “Isn’t doctor-patient confidentiality a thing? Did they leave any message for me?”

If Baizhu was surprised, then he hid it well. “She knew your name and appearance, though I never confirmed that you were here. She simply left the money and a verbal message asking you to have dinner with her tomorrow at 1800 in Xinyue Kiosk. But please be aware that I’m not forcing this, whether you would like me to refund the money so you can avoid interacting with her or not is completely up to you.”

Shaking your head, you declined it. “I’ll go. Since everything is paid for by her, does that also include any medicine I have to take for whatever current injuries I still have?”

“That’s right. I’m mostly prescribing supplements for the blood loss and fluid imbalance. Some are for the bones that broke, even repaired they might cause problems, so calcium intake is also important. A simple drug for your immune system, as your body's defenses are relatively low from the wounds. As well as per needed fever and pain medications.”

… You didn’t want to imagine the cost of those medications, let alone the treatment. A dinner in the most expensive restaurant in Liyue within the city with an unknown woman isn't that bad.

You've met people in worst locations and survived this long.

Pushing back the lingering worry, you focused on Baizhu’s explanation over what condition your body is in, what time to take the medicine and any other problems that could arise. It was boring, but you weren’t looking to get sick from your own stupidity.

The conversation had gone as you expected for a while until he brought up a strange topic. Flipping through a few papers, Baizhu steered the topic onto your- “Scars. Many of what you suffered from will leave new scars on your body. It’s the old scars that were peculiar.”

Knowing your luck, your scars must also be known to them. But you weren’t going to bring it up if he didn’t.

“They are imbued and cultivated with a power that is strikingly familiar, yet foreign. It actually perfectly correlates with my researched point of interest. I wanted to ask your permission on getting a sample of it before your discharge.”

That was a risky request. Your face stayed neutral as you thought to yourself. The consequences could be minor, but what if it became another situation of an accidental connection to the Creator again?

Looking back at the smiling snaked eye man, you opened your mouth to respond when he suddenly gave the fakest gasp.

“I almost forgot to mention that your old scar formations are the exact locations of the Creator’s real scars! This along with everything else I’ve seen is almost enough for me to report this to the Mille-”

“For fuck's sake just take it.” You could be excused for not playing mind games this time, being nearly dead should be enough reason for a day off.

“I want some form of compensation, though!” Being stupidly tired is a different matter then being just plain stupid.

“That’s not a problem. I’ll most likely take the sample sometime tomorrow before your discharge. So please, tell me what you have in mind by noon tomorrow so I can fetch it in time.”

In hindsight, it wasn’t surprising that Baizhu would ask this of you. Your body has clearly undergone some changes as you lived in Teyvat and Baizhu is dead set on finding a way to be immortal.

There was a time you had wondered if you might be immortal due to being the creator, so maybe Baizhu can figure it out with your sample.

“The last thing I want to address before you rest is-” Baizhu is cut off by a knock on the door. He glances at you, asking permission to open the door with his eyes before you nod firmly. Qiqi walked in earlier without knocking, so maybe it’s a visitor? But considering how late it is, maybe you were wrong…

“Come in Qiqi and bring the visitor in too.”

The door opens slowly as you watch Qiqi walk in stiffly with a yawning girl following her in at a similar height. Long light brown hair is loose as the girl rubs her eyes tiredly.

“Hello Dr. Baizhu, I came back to check one last time if the oracle- Oh!” Caramel colored eyes widen at the sight of you sitting on the bed, and the girl hurriedly gives a polite bow. A yellow plush bunny is smooshed in her arms in the process.

“Hello, pardon my rudeness. My name is Yaoyao and I was sent by my master to check on you! It’s my honor to make your acquaintance, Y/N, or would you rather me call you by the oracle title?”

The ‘little adult’ looks different without the decorative bells she usually wears in her tied up hair, but the bunny was a dead give away. You smile at the nervous girl while wondering just who told her about you being an oracle.

Baizhu was giving you a look that basically screamed suspicion.

“You can just call me Y/N. By master, you mean Madame Ping, right?” Yaoyao beams at that as she steps closer.

“That’s correct, we learned about you from the other Adepti and Xiangling.” You should have known. “When we heard that you were here, I was sent on my Master's orders and Ganyu’s concern. Visitors weren’t allowed earlier, but I wanted to check one last time.”

Ganyu too? That basically guarantees Ningguang, Keqing, Zhongli and even more knowing that you’re here. But more importantly was the fact that Baizhu investigated anything connected to the Adepti for his immortality quest.

You could only hope that Baizhu would be happy with a basic explanation and the sample of your scar tissue as promised.

“Visitors was the last topic I wanted to address.” Baizhu smoothly joins as he gets up from his seat and heads toward a desk on the far side of the room. A small pile of letters and a pile of gifts sit on the table next to your bag. How didn’t you notice it before?

“After a patient here noticed you before she was discharged, she and her guardian left you a letter with a present. I believe she may have been the one to spread it, but I ask you to kindly not hold anger against her. She’s rather young.”

So the little leaker was a child? It could be one of the kids you saved, but none of them could really afford to go to Baizhu. Not that he would have denied them but most children in that situation don’t go unless on the verge of death or pushed by an adult.

“It’s okay, I’ll look through the stuff in the morning.” As if on cue, Yaoyao fails to hide a yawn as she walks to stand next to your bed.

“Auntie Cloud Retainer and the rest of the Adepti told Master what happened on Mt. Aocang. Master really wants to meet you, so if you have any time to spare, please pay her a visit here at the Yujing Terrace near the Yiyan temple.”

Nodding absentmindedly, you make a mental note of that before asking Yaoyao a question in return.

“Just how many people in general know that I’m here? I know quite a few people and Qiqi being here must have been quite a spectacle… But surely it must not have been too much considering that it was the middle of the night.”

The nervous expression on Yaoyao face dashes away any hopes you had.

“Sorry Y/N but a lot of the city was speaking about you. Even nature and the animals kept mentioning you! Though they were a little more vague. If it helps, most people know you as a masked person rather than your name.”

Sighing, you don’t even bother hiding the distaste on your face. Changing masks wouldn’t do much and you sure as hell can’t remove it either, leaving you with the sole option of leaving.

Leaving before anyone else can attack you in this fast-pace city filled with greed and ambition. If you stayed here any longer, you’ll surely be pulled into whatever new situation happens and only get more attention.

The dinner you had first worried about is almost miniscule compared to the threat of Yelan and Shenhe knowing your location. More so, Yelan as she has an obligation to get rid of you due to her job rather than Shenhe’s emotional motive.

Your mind replays the last bit of your fight where you had touched the waypoint and- Oh fuck. Groaning, you dumped your face into your hands as Yaoyao watched you worriedly. Her worried calls rolled off you like waves as you remember how the teleport waypoint glowed in front of everyone.

That’s a complete group of people, treasure hoarders nonetheless, that saw you activate it. Yelan could use that information and the witnesses in whatever stupidly clever way she wants!

Yaoyao looks back at Baizhu confused as he shakes his head silently. Qiqi picks up a glass of coconut milk and begins to walk towards you with it before Baizhu blocks her way.

Fingers digging into your scalp, you resist the urge to pull your hair as you bite your still slightly bruised lips. The realization of what kind of ammo you gave Yelan was killing you.

Baizhu takes the glass from Qiqi and puts it back down before handing her a glass of water. Qiqi stares blankly at Baizhu before switching the glasses again. As the two continuously switch cups, Yaoyao rummages in her bag.

A sting of pain begins to grow as you get dangerously closer to the recently healed head wound. The smell of something sweet yet earthy snaps you out of your stress-fueled self depreciation as small hands pry your rough ones away.

“Please be careful Y/N, Dr. Baizhu is a great doctor but you shouldn’t hurt yourself like this. Have a candied date, it's golden honey flavored and works great to get rid of the bitter medicinal taste that he prescribes.”

It didn’t smell too bad, so you hesitantly took it from her hands and glanced back at Baizhu in case he tries to confiscate it. With his back safely turned, you pop the candied date into your mouth.

It’s a nice taste and it does work well as a distraction from your worries. “Thank you Yaoyao.” Your hand reaches out instinctively and pats her head. “The Creator views you fondly and one day your fate will intersect with the creator’s just like it did with the Adepti.”

The lie flows smoothly from your mouth as she smiles brightly up at you. Her eyes move down to the blanket as she responds. “I still don’t quite know what that means, but I’m sure I’ll be able to properly appreciate it once I’m older.”

Qiqi joins you both and hands you a glass of water that you take from her gratefully. Your hand leaves Yaoyao’s head to rest on the bed, making Qiqi look away with a pout. Before you can question the unexpected reaction, Baizhu redirects the conversation.

“I understand that you hold some valid concerns over your safety, Y/N. This situation isn’t one we deal with frequently, but we do have measures in place.”

The look you send him speaks a thousand words as he sighs and adds. “Free of charge, of course, as it counts as patient confidentiality.”

“Bubu’s Pharmacy has tight security measures and Millelith frequent the area due to it being near the Yiyan Temple and the Welkin Temple.” You were 100% sure that the second temple did not exist before you came here. “Me and Qiqi both reside here and as experienced vision holders, you’ll be in safe hands.”

Nodding in understanding, you can’t deny that it felt safer knowing you weren’t going to be left alone. Your body was still exhausted and in the midst of healing so you didn’t have much energy to defend yourself with if Ningguang were to send another person after you.

“Qiqi doesn’t sleep much, so she’ll keep an eye out for anything amiss.” And you were right back to feeling anxious. Baizhu was relaxed as he tidied up the room, while Yaoyao spoke softly to Qiqi.

Glancing at the zombie child, you repeated the mantra to yourself that anyone could be a DPS in Genshin. You just needed to check her equipment before bed.

Yaoyao turns back to you with a sleepy smile. “I’ll be taking my leave now. I wish you a swift recovery, and I look forward to seeing you again with my Master.” With a casual wave, you let that be your only farewell as you drink the glass of water Qiqi handed you earlier.

Baizhu pats his clothing down as he calls out to Yaoyao right as she opens the door.

“Oh Yaoyao, since you’ll be relaying the message to Madam Ping and Ganyu, please have Ganyu tell Ningguang about Y/N’s acceptance to dinner for me as well.”

The water you were drinking goes down the wrong way at those words.

Coughing, you yank the glass away as you look back up to the surprised Baizhu. “Did you say Ningguang? Was she the one who paid for everything and asked for the dinner?”

Baizhu smiles pleasantly with little regard for your shaky tone as he nods. There goes every flicker of hope you had that Ningguang wasn’t your benefactor.

Every drop of blood your body synthesized to restore you back to normal is drained as you pale at the confirmation. Just how the hell did you manage to meet Zhongli, Yelan, and Ningguang!?

They are all people you wanted to avoid, and you definitely shouldn’t have met, considering the fact that people pay to even get an hour with Ningguang, let along a whole ass dinner invite!

Was there some stupid rule that goes along with being the creator making you meet nearly every acolyte that exists?

So busy cursing yourself and the entirety of Teyvat out, you don’t notice how Baizhu corrals Yaoyao out of the room before heading to you, as Qiqi watches from the sidelines.

“My, my you’ve gone pale at the news Y/N.” Baizhu’s glasses glint a little from the flickering lantern illuminating the room. He smiles down at you with half-lidded eyes that stare at you strangely.

“I didn’t realize that I forgot to tell you who it was. If you decide to, we can always cancel it and send a priority letter before discussing a payment plan.”

Squinting your eyes, you shake your head ‘no’ as you try to read the simultaneously shady yet reckless doctor. It didn’t seem like he had any malicious intentions, as he very much did mean to hide it. But you can’t be sure that he had any good intentions either.

“That’s a shame, I was looking forward to discussing alternate ways of paying that don’t require mora.” …Yeah, no matter what way you put it or how clean Baizhu keeps his reputation. One can not simply not be seen as shady while going around saying stuff like that.

So not only is Baizhu showing signs of that strange attachment in a matter of hours, but Ningguang decided to suddenly switch her tactics. From ‘investigate and kill if deemed a threat’ to ‘generous wealthy person that totally isn’t covering up a crime’.

Could you possibly get Yanfei to sue Ningguang if you aren’t poisoned at the dinner?

Maybe, but that’s all riding on the chance that you aren’t killed in some coincidental accident before then. Waving away the pessimistic and slightly comical thoughts, you look up at Baizhu as he dims the lantern.

“The pharmacy opens at 0900 in the morning. Are you willing to take visitors from that point on till your discharge at 1300?” Briefly looking at the letters and gifts, you nod silently.

Baizhu’s smile doesn’t waver as he responds casually. “Many people will be happy to hear that Y/N, you seem quite popular.”

He opens the door before kneeling to Qiqi’s height. “The last order I have for you tonight is to keep watch over Y/N and protect them if need be. Understand?”

Qiqi tilts her head at that and blandly states. “Order received. Order cannot be processed. Original intended function still active and in place.”

Baizhu frowns at that as you look at Qiqi curiously. His expression quickly smooths back to a calm smile as he stands up. “As long as the ending is the same, then I don’t mind.”

He glances at you one last time as the door creaks open to show the dark hallway. Slitted eyes meet yours, full of curiosity and intrigue. They almost glow as he steps into the hallway with Qiqi in tow before the door closes softly.

Sighing in relief, you flop back onto the bed and roll in the covers for a position that won’t put pressure on your aching muscles. Baizhu’s increasingly strange behavior slithers back into your mind as you close your eyes.

Just why didn’t he ask you about being an oracle yet? Is he planning on getting the Millelith? No, he would have done so much earlier. Maybe he’s trying to gather some blackmail on you?

The possibilities torment your exhausted mind as you finally settle on just explaining yourself tomorrow when you get the scar sample from you. When you open your eyes, the flame has already burned away, leaving your only light as the moon.

Staring at it, you think back to the waypoints. Are they finally fixed? Can you use them again? You couldn’t test it out now, but you could do so when you leave after the dinner with Ningguang.

Which region should you travel to next? There was no may you could stay or go back to Inazuma, so it’s either Mondstadt or Sumeru as they are the closest.

Closing your eyes, you try to imagine what traveling through the terrain would be like to arrive in the city. Frowning, you continue by imagining what it would be like traveling in that region for the weekly commissions.

It’s a simple decision really as Sumeru had a wide range of animals and poisonous plants to fight past. While Mondstadt had that sweet peaceful greenery from being the starter city with the lowest amount of treasure hoarders thanks to a certain Cryo user.

Deciding that you’ve picked your brain enough on the topic, you shut your eyes for some actual rest.

A moment passes, and then another, as the wind rustles the leaves on the tree outside the window. The faint sound of a sweet croon reaches your ears as you stubbornly keep your eyes closed.

As your mind is slowly consumed by the heavy exhaustion and the dimness of the room, two thoughts come to mind.

One, you forgot to check Qiqi’s equipment. Two, just what made you be locked out from the teleport waypoints if it counts as a game mechanic from Genshin Impact itself?

—---------------

“The moon is quite beautiful at this time of night.” A kind and knowing voice says as wrinkled hands pick out the bits of leaves from long white hair. The moonlight illuminates the silvery strands as it gradually is picked clean to its former glory.

“Child, just what has happened that you come to me out of all the Adepti for assistance?” A red rope is cut into perfect portions and tied to form the perfect braid. A Cryo vision sits innocently as the centerpiece, while a monochrome ornament adorns the top.

“I cannot advise you on the matter that troubles you if you do not speak, Shenhe.” Iridescent eyes finally move up from the ground to meet the elderly woman’s warm ones. Shenhe struggles to speak as her head dips forward.

“I… I hurt someone badly. But they hurt me too.” Shenhe holds her hands together in a prayer like motion as her eyes flutter close. “But at the end, they showed me something I couldn’t believe. No. That I refused to believe and even helped me.”

With a hunched back and patience learned over thousands of years, the old woman stays quiet. Giving the oh-so apathetic disciple time to put her thoughts into words.

“I don’t know what to do, and master isn’t the most adept when it comes to humans. But you, Streetward Rambler are, in more than one way. You constitute as a human more than me.”

Shenhe closes her eyes as she thinks back to her encounter with you. The truth you didn’t hesitate to spit in her face, the raw anger you expressed at her delusions and denial.

“I just want to understand these emotions. Are they a witch’s, an Adepti’s or a human’s emotions? Not even these ropes are stopping them!” Shenhe tugs at the newly bound rope in frustration but stops at the touch of light fingertips.

Madam Ping smiles warmly down at Shenhe. “None of those answers are correct child. They are simply your emotions. And I believe deep down, you already know what you feel. You just don’t know what to do with them.”

Shenhe looks at the ground with a mixture of guilt and self-loathing swarming inside her. It was true, wasn’t it? That day you spoke her feelings in the bluntest way possible, but here she was, still trying to deny it.

“Then what do I do? Is it really okay to love someone that hurt you? I don’t want a repeat of my childhood… I just want to treasure and use this new chance at connecting with my entire self that the Creator has graced me with.”

The hand that pats her head is familiar and warm. Childhood memories of her shedding those human emotions she once thought weak come to mind before Madam Ping’s voice brings her back.

“Trusting in the Creator and following the path they opened for you, no matter how scary or concerning, is always the right path. Follow me Shenhe.”

Madam Ping is quick to walk away toward the two temples, as Shenhe follows her swiftly. The Yiyan Temple for the Geo Archon is laughably small in comparison to the huge Welkin Temple behind it.

They climb the stairs past the Yiyan Temple and enter the luxurious archway leading into the Welkin Temple. Decorations laced with jewels, paintings of the highest caliber, and statues of the rarest minerals are a common sight in it.

As Liyue Harbors sole temple, the city and its citizens spared no expanse in making sure it was top-notch. That included the deceased Geo Archon who left it in the care of the Liyue Qixing before his passing.

The pair walked through the halls as many people prayed and worshiped within the dead of the night without care for the passing onlookers.

Everyone gathered here at this time of night is here to do the same thing after all.

A couple of people amble past the determined Adeptus and disciple into the barren clinic as physicians begin to care for them. The blood, bone, and missing parts of skin are applauded before quickly being catered to.

Madam Ping enters the hallway where many citizens wait outside the rooms for their turn. Yet instead of stopping like Shenhe expected, the old woman brings her to a hidden staircase around the corner.

The two climb up and up, till they reach the rooftop where an alter sits. Shenhe is well aware what she must do for the answers she desires. Kneeling before it, Shenhe gratefully takes the ceremonial spear handed to her by Madame Ping.

“You have matured enough to earn the privilege of giving a piece of yourself to the Holy One. I can only excitedly wait for the day my own disciples can have this honor.” With a calm yet cheery chuckle, Madame Ping moves away from the grave faced Shenhe.

“Oh Holy Creator, God of all that has lived, lives, and lives on. Listen to this acolytes prayer and grant me but a crumb of your wisdom. Though I am foolish and mortal, your mercy shines down on in the form of that person.”

The spear is raised into the air as Shenhe stays kneeling and points the spear down.

“Please, Divine One, show this wretched girl just how I’m supposed to make it up to Y/N.”

The spear drives down and the crimson droplets stain the altar like a dazzling flourish of rose petals.

Well this took a long while. This time it wasn't school but just personal stuff. Between house hunting, family feud, car problems, and just trying to keep up with school. I haven't got much of a break. But things have finally calmed down somewhat so I used it to get this done. What also helped was making the outline for the 1k special. I think I should have it done for the next update instead of the regular chapter. But I did notice that a good chunk wanted regular chapters instead so I got a compromise. The special features Mondstadt (as most sagau start in Mond so I thought it would be fun) and it'll be a teaser to what Mondstadt has in store for you all. I'm not sure how many of you have noticed but each region has a certain theme when it comes to worship. Inazuma with sacrificing, Liyue with self mutilation, and Mondstadt will be hinted at in the special. My editor, @serpent-benediction, did this super late last night so props for once. But if there are claims to being anything more than an editor then don't listen. I keep basically everybody in the dark. Kinda feel like death so if you have any questions or comments I will answer them as soon as I can read again. Taglist: is open for anyone so just comment if you want to join <3

@vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @liansh3ng, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @shellofthewell, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0, @esthelily, @t-rex-red, @ck123, @steadybreadbluebird, @118gremlin, @stratonia, @time-shardz, @farelady-fate, @valeriele3, @francisnyx, @byakuren100, @waveto-earth, @flyingpansaurus, @silverstarred, @iamapotatoe

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 3 months

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Imagine DND night with the beast pirates

During one session

Queen: Alright, you idiots somehow managed to kidnap the ambassador. You have him tied up in the dank, dark, dilapidated dungeon of the old capital ruins.

King: We need to interrogate him for answers, it's clear that he's working for the necromancer, he might know where he is. I roll for intimidation, *rolls* sixteen.

Queen: *mutters,* of course that is where you go with it, pervert. *Speaks loudly,* Your intimidation is only slightly successful. The ambassador knows his life is in danger and needs to flee. However, he refuses to answer your questions. He proclaims, "I will never tell you anything, I shall be loyal to my master till my last breath!"

Kaido: *really in the character of his half-orc barbarian* that can be arranged, little man.

Queen: *rolls for him* The ambassador stutters, his voice quivering, "I just received messages from him and carried out his bidding, I don't know where he is really."

Yamato: Perception check, I'd like to see if he is lying.

Queen: you'll need a nineteen or higher, Are you sure you want to do that?

Yamato: *rolls* nat 20.

Queen: you can tell he's lying big time, you can practically smell the nervous flop sweat on this guy from across the room.

You: I can make him talk, I cast heat metal on his bones.

Queen: heat metal only works on metal, it's literally in the name of the spell. It doesn't work on bones, since they're made of calcium.

You: and calcium is a soft metal.

Queen: what's your source.

You: *came prepared to dispute this because you've been looking for an excuse to use this knowledge for evil. You pulled out an advanced chemistry textbook with the page bookmarked and the section highlighted, and handed it to him.* Read it and weep.

Queen: *puts on his reading glasses to read it* ... Dear god, okay, you cast heat metal, roll a d10 for me.

You: *rolls* 8

Queen: and with a plus three modifiers... you heat his bones until he's screaming. The ambassador lasts only thirty seconds before he reveals that the wizard necromancer, Typhus the Terrible, lives in the glittering palace deep in the inky caverns of Roptian, which is guarded by the onyx dragon.

Sasaki: yer kind of scary sometimes.

You: thank you.

At another session

Queen: okay, you enter the throne room, and the evil wizard is lounging on the glittering throne, Typhus the Terrible.

King: I roll for initiative *rolls dice*

Queen: critical fail, your fighter is dead.

Kaido: *rolls for attack* critical fail.. Hmm, I hate this game.

Queen: you are also dead, (y/n), you are the only one left with any spell slots or turns left. What are you gonna do?

You: ... I would like to cast summon water

King: there goes that campaign.

Queen: that spell lets you fill a space with water, are you sure that's what you want to do.

You: yes

Queen: the room fills with water

You: I didn't cast it in the room.

Queen: where then did you cast it?

You: inside the wizard's skull.

The whole room: *horrified*

Queen: you can't do that

You: the spell specifies that it fills a space, and a skull cavity is a space. And you let me fill the chest down the hall with water, why not this dude's head?

Queen: ugh, hang on a minute, I need to figure out the damage.... You killed the boss... You flooded his brain with so much water, that his skull exploded.

King: that's the most messed up thing I've ever heard.

Kaido: *mutters* we've done worse.

You: you should be very glad I don't have a devil fruit

King: I'm starting to see that now, thank you.

List of Up-and-coming works || Masterlist || Twitter

Support me on Kofi and Patreon

#from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #king the wildfire #king the conflagration #kaido #op #sasaki #queen #queen the plague #yamato #no beta we die like men #dnd #1/29/24

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plumbobpaparazzi · 4 months

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Kehlani Tattoos

This was something I needed for my own gameplay that got a life of its own. I started NSB2 with my hubs and we just got to the part of Sapphire where you need a tat/piercing for each child. My Onyx sim married a custom Sulani townie with an established family, so my Sapphire gen is close to the islands/their cousins/etc. Have you ever realized how few beach/ocean tattoos we have in game? Unacceptable.

BGC

custom thumbnail

left upper arm slot

46 swatches*

created to add tattoos incrementally*

11 tattoo designs (pic below)

all designs redrawn and optimized to show up clearly in game, no barely visible thin lines here

created for feminine frame, but works for masculine with a little distortion (pic below)

works with every skin-tone (also pic below)

DOWNLOAD: SFS | MEDIAFIRE

*Swatches are laid out like this:

1-6 are all the tattoos, in 3 different opacities, one set with linework only, and one set with background shading.

7-17 are each design on their own at the lightest opacity

17-19 is the hibiscus only in all 3 opacities

20-22 are the hibiscus + the turtle in 3 opacities

23-25 are hibiscus, turtle, and hermit crab in 3 opacities

and it continues, adding one additional tattoo up the arm (in 3 opacities) until the conch. To add the final tattoo at the top, circle back to swatches 1-6.

I have two half-sleeves IRL plus some other tats, it really grinds my gears to see the garbage cc passed off as "tattoos". 😒 Do whatever sparks joy in your game, but don't lie to yourself that those little doodley things you see on pinterest would look good as actual ink. That's how you end up paying for a cover-up later.

@mmfinds @sssvitlanz @emilyccfinds @alwaysfreecc @ts4cc-finds @public-ccfinds @s4ccfind

#s4 tattoo #ts4cc #ts4mm #ts4 download #s4mmcc #s4cc #s4cc download #ts4 cc #s4 custom content #mycc

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cerastes · 3 months

Note

Ejia alt best skill?

Fucking, all of them.

The right answer is S3 because it's what you'd usually think is a burst skill except it lasts 50 entire whole seconds and it gives her global range, machine gun 5-instance heals with individually reduced, altogether MUCH stronger output, jacked buffs for Max HP and Elemental DMG reduction, and it basically exists on a 60 SP cooldown at M3. Even if you're not dealing with Elemental Damage, this still just raw outheals most damage the game can throw at you that isn't an outright one hit kill against any given unit.

The correct answer is that all three of her skills are absolutely goofy goober-tier overtuned. After S3, you want to master S1, which is a permanent buff once it goes active that gives a minor ATK buff, multitarget (2 units at once), and whenever she heals someone, EVERYONE in range gets a minor Elemental DMG heal. 60 SP activation at M3.

And if you think I left S2 for last because it's not good, think again, S2 is the last thing you want to Master because it's god damn broken even at SL7. You don't NEED to Master this one for it to be e-sports. Being able to give characters a 650% of her ATK barrier against Elemental Damage for 14 whole seconds is very much enough to tank pretty much every possible existent instance of Elemental Damage in the game possibly maybe barring very High Waves Ubi Bona Somnia flowerstacks or Phase 2 Highmore soloblasts, and if none of those words make sense to you, then you don't need to worry about any case use of something stronger than SL7. There IS a point to M3ing this skill, though: At M3, S2 has a 20 SP cooldown and the barriers last 20 seconds. So, uh, you can just have 100% upkeep on 900% ATK barriers. In case you ever feel like Not Having To Ever Deal With Elemental Damage Ever Again, Period.

Unrelated pic of Frostleaf

Skills aside, keep in mind Eyjaberry the Holungday is a Wandering Medic so she enjoys god-tier range making positioning very easy, also her heals all leave a small regen (HP and Elemental DMG) effect that can stack up to three times per character, and if you're in range, you have Max HP+ and Elemental DMG reduction, so basically, yeah, summer unit goofy goober overtuning strikes once again, healer edition. About her only weaknesses are that S3 has a 60 SP cooldown timer so you may have a gap in its use, which would be an issue if you didn't have 11 more slots in your squad to do stuff during that minute.

#arknights #eyjafjalla #eyjafjalla the holungday

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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OCTOBER 31ST. DEADPOOL FT. SPIDER-MAN

"you might be wondering why the red suit. well, that’s so bad guys don’t see me bleed."

♱ — katsuki bakugou ft. izuku midoriya + cucking.

♱ — synopsis; with great power, comes great responsibility— such as one’s duty to pleasure his girlfriend ( though failing ), luckily a certain mercenary is able to swing by and take over such a big responsibility on spidey’s behalf.

♱ —length; 7.8K

♱ — warnings; please read for your own safety! mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, cucking, threesomes, auralism, dacryphilia, voyeurism, cumplay, mutual masturbation, dry humping, body worship, facials, fingering ( f!receiving ), oral sex ( m!receiving ), mask!kink, fem!reader, deadpool!bakugou, spider-man!deku. not beta read !

♱ — notes; and with that, kinktober is over! thank you to everyone who supported me along the way!! please enjoy this last fic, i realy hope that you like it and have a safe halloween!! ily mwah <3 - m.list₊ kinktober m.list ₊ taglist 𓆩♡𓆪

“yanno,” you say wistfully, dabbing away at a cut underneath your boyfriend’s dazzling green eyes. “i think you got away pretty lightly this time.”

deku hums, forcing away a wince as the rubbing alcohol seeps into the shallow wound— you let him squeeze your hand instead. “aside from my blood dripping across your floor, i’d pretty much agree.” despite how many times he’d sat on your bedroom floor, letting you coddle him and tend to his scrapes and scratches— the cleaning part never got easier. “deadpool always gets me into extra trouble whenever we work together.”

your gaze flickers up to izuku’s in concerned warning, having him stumble into your apartment at ridiculous hours was all fine and dandy when he just needed to be babied and had a boo-boo on his head, but ever since working with whoever this deadpool guy was— your precious boy had been littered with all sorts of stab wounds and now your shifty handiwork stitches. today the bank robbery with said mercenary left your boyfriend with the graze of a bullet, and he was lucky to get away with just that.

“‘m worried about you izuku,” your body keens into his warm hands and soft touch as the superhero pulls you into his lap, fingertips sliding over the curve of your ass and over the fat at your hips lovingly— not even sexually at first, as if each little caress grounds you both, slowing your head beats and filtering out the adrenaline of the night.

he’s so warm, it reminds you that he’s alive and breathing, safe with you for another night. “i’ll try to be more careful, hm?” sensing the spike in your emotions, izuku leans forward with his nose nudging along yours, his lips dragging over the seam of your own, as if to tease you— a reward to follow if you calm down.

“i want you safe,” you huff with no fire behind your words, just about pouting before deku has you locked in a soft, barely-there kiss.

“it’s part of the job,” he says back, quietly, and there’s a beat of silence between you both where longing gazes are cast over features twitching into needy expressions— and before you know it, your mouth is slotted perfectly against his, bruisingly close as your tongue licks into izuku’s hot cavern, searching for is. the once chaste kiss turns sloppy, spit swapped between hungrily moving lips, your noses nudging and lungs burning for the air you won’t get, being joined like this.

even when you do come up for air, you’re back on one another in seconds— practised hands used to fight crime and save lives, trickle up your spine to the base of your neck, pulling you into deku’s web of wanton, one you don’t see yourself wanting to be free from any time soon. his thumb presses nimbly into your throat, an amused chuckle resounding in the base of his own when your eyes grow misty and your tongue rolls out eagerly— with a hankering to be kissed again.

“you want another?”

“i want you.”

now panting, your fingers surge up into forest green locks so you can tug izuku the rest of the way—your teeth sink into his lower lip for you to pull back slowly, gingerly while you hint at your need for more; giving izuku one last chance to call it quits for the night or kiss you properly like you want. he needs you just as badly as you need him, driving forward with the taste of you crackling like dopamine against the neurons in his brain. his heated pink muscle grazes over the swell of your lips, only just quelling the spark of hunger now pumping from his heart into his blood before you welcome him into your mouth with a debauched little sigh that falls into the tail end of a moan.

deku grunts low, in bliss, at the noise, hips jumping up as if triggered by your sweet sounds and your tongues dance together instead of fighting— spit slicked and sliding over one another, down each other’s throats until your makeout is far more heated than anticipated. you seize the opportunity to guide your boyfriend’s free latex gloved hand to your waist once more, giving him the control to guide the flow of your hips while you grind down onto him, grinning at the stiff press of is hard on against your panties through the spider-man suit.

he seems to get the picture, growing handsier by the second and manhandling you back and forth against his swelling cock, izuku’s breath’s much heavier than before. “fuck baby,” he whines into your wet mouth, his lips cherry red and raw, all because of you. “feel what you do to me? so hard…already— for you…” there’s a flutter of pride in your chest, knowing that you’re the one that’s able to make the spider-man a mess like this after he puts on a brave face for the city. only you get to see the cocky, webbed hero hump you like a mangy dog, circling his hips and pushing his throbbing erection against your fat folds in desire— latex covered hands exploring every inch of you they can.

izuku’s lips fall to your shoulder, licking and sucking a trail of kisses up to your neck— nipping here and there, so that bruised blossom under your skin in a signature of off coloured love bites. “wanna fuck you,” he says between the wetter smooches, whispering the words into the junction between your jaw and neck. “gonna lemme, oh shit— fuck you, love?”

your body vibrates at deku’s promiscuous words— each far from the goodie two shoes persona he puts on for the world. he wants to make you feel that badly despite being beaten to shit, and knowing that is enough to spark a fire in your lower belly, the best shooting down to your pussy which flutters as you drag it back and forth across his hard-on through the blue and red suit.

running your fingers through his already mask-missed hair, you map out each little detail of izuku midoriya— his sun spotted cheeks, B-road shoulders and muscled arms, that slender waist of his hidden away by stretchy blue and red fabric. he’s yours, and he’s desperate for you, aching and leaky for you. “gonna let’cha fuck me, ‘zu, need you to take me.”

all of a sudden, he’s like a kid on Christmas unwrapping a present ( in a way you are, his gift after a fucked up day fighting crime ), padding up your spine until you shiver— drawing his name against your back until a finger hooks on the strap of your bra. you’re only wearing a t-shirt, the jagged letters of Spider-Man printed on and peeling off the front, but it’s not like either of you care. the loose fabric gives your boyfriend easy access, unhooking the material with ease and letting it fall down your front. you only part for a moment to let your arms slip through from under your shirt— tossing the sage green garment to the side shortly afterwards.

he can smell you, the salacious and honeyed scent of your sex hanging in the heated, vibrating particles in the air between you. “god baby, how do you always get this wet, this fast.” deku simpers in a tone of awe, two latex fingers pressed into your soaked core, watching you twitch, your body burning up with a new wave of heat. he squeezes your clit, admiring the way you pulse under his hold, tip of his finger then moving to run between your folds to build up the sensation of delightful pleasure inside you.

“don’t get distracted,” you manage to scold your boyfriend, words falling away into a breathy sigh when his mouth latches onto your clothed and budding nipple from under his shirt—he hums in content around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth, happy to toruture you like this. your hands ground yourself in his wild hair, pushing him back from your stimulated chest. “get naked, i think you promised me some dick, ‘zu,”

smiling, the green haired hero reaches up to peck you on the lips. “you’re right, you’re right…mind helping me get out of my suit?” he asks, pulling his working digits away from your cunt in awe, staring at the clear strings of essence that connect them while you nod. wrapping your arms around him, you catch the zipper on the spidey-suit and pull it down, moving back so izuku can shake off his sleeves.

but you’re impatient when you’re horny, frustration fogging your brain as midoriya struggles to get out of the costume he designed. he flails about, the sight only serving to turn you off even further, minute by minute. you love your boyfriend— you do, he’s sweet and nerdy, and you adore that he saves the world… but things like this happen a lot, and you only wished he would take some time out, putting it aside for you. to separate you from his save-the-world-bullshit.

“here, let me help,” you pout, hands on him once more— tugging and pulling at his arms and chest while izuku struggles against the latex with burning, bright red freckled cheeks. he whimpers at every cascade of your finger tips, breath hitching here and there as you work with each other to get it off.

until deku stills, green forest eyes screwing shut, a warmth flooding his lap.

“did you just—?”

“y-yeah?” he stutters, clearly embarrassed by cumming in his pants. “s-sorry, love, i’m sorry—“

with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, you back off of deku’s lap, shoulders sagging with relief as you look for your underwear in the mess of your room. “it’s whatever,” you shrug it off, not finding them before standing up and away from your boyfriend. “‘m gonna grab some snacks and we can watch some shitty cartoons, and pretend this didn’t happen.”

you leave the room before izuku can catch wind of how disappointed you really are— knowing he might struggle to get it up a second time. the stress of saving the world can do that to you apparently. usually he’ll make it up to you with that silver spider-man tongue of his, the same one that’s chatty with quips directed at villains…but tonight, that just won’t do.

tonight you’d really needed him.

“fuck me,” izuku sighs heavily, laying back on the floor— suit sticky and tight against the skin of his thighs after cumming in it prematurely. submerged in his own self pity— he fails to notice the telling tingle of his enhanced senses, and the sound of your bedroom window sliding up.

“after that shit show? nah, no thanks,” izuku jumps up, gaze shooting over to the window where deadpool pops his head through. “was pretty sad to watch.” the mercenary makes himself comfortable, sliding into the room before crossing one leg over the other as he sits on the window ledge.

you choose that exact moment to re-enter the room, a tray full of snacks and warm drinks to smooth over the awkward evening with your boyfriend. “‘zu, i made you some cocoa, how you like, i’m sorry for the way i reacted earlier i just—“ glancing up as you push through the door, your eyes dart between your boyfriend, Spider-Man, and the new red and black dressed figure— a scream ripping through your body as you drop the tray, deku’s webs catching it safely before the items hit the floor.

deadpool only screams back, covering his face with gloved hands as if to mock his own shock.

“who the fuck are you?” after you regain your bearings, you’re launching at the heavily armed stranger in your apartment; his feet swinging and the white eyes in his mask animatedly moving in a widening motion. you grab the nearest and closest thing you have to a weapon ( a butter knife used to spread pb on your boyfriend’s crackers ) and throw it at the intruder, lodging it into his shoulders just before deku trips you up with a few more webs. “how the fuck did you get into my house?”

“ah, well ya see. ‘m always pickin’ the locks whenever i visit spidey over here— but i must’ve gotten the wrong address this time round.” the intruder sings, peering down at you. you feel like he’s reading your soul through the mask and start to scramble again. “ya never told me how hot your girlfriend was, bugboy. if i look at her any longer Cupid might shoot my ass with a tiny, pointy arrow.”

“i-it was none of your business!” deku grunts, holding you down with webs, another horrified yell building up within you as deadpool pulls the knife from his shoulder and the wound hole closes up on its own. “baby— deadpool, aka kacchan. deadpool— my girlfriend.”

“well, pleasure to meet you, sweetheart,” deadpool…kacchan coos in response, stepping down to use a gloved hand, taking yours in his own and kissing the back of it.

you’d been warned about deadpool, the heinous crimes he committed in cold blood, his playful attitude towards life threatening situations with his dangerous anti-hero attitude, which was less than ideal to work with— all the forewarnings your pretty, goody two shoes neighbourhood hero boyfriend had fed you. but right now, gazing up at the red suited mercenary, you couldn’t find it within yourself to be scared because you hadn’t been warned about how hot he sounded with the gravel in his voice, how built he looked under layers of leather that had clearly been used in combat or war.

coughing, and ruining the moment that has your skin burning, deku clears his throat to ask. “what are you doing here, ‘pool?”

“came to invite you out for celebratory drinks, buddy! we kicked ass t’day, and that’s what friends do, right?” kacchan’s white masked eyes give you both the once over, forming somewhat of a grimace— from what you can tell. “but i see you’re kinda busy with…other, failed plans.”

“we didn’t fail! we were just hooking up, that’s what couples do!”

“barely counts as hooking up shitty spider, can barely keep yer fuckin’ dick up!

as the two super-enhanced dummies argue their way through the situation— you sit mortified, your sex life ( what of it ) sitting bare on the table for the two men to openly to discuss. “i-it’s not always like this!” you gasp, desperately trying to shut them both down.

they both look over to you, kacchan clearly amused. “that’s the sixth fuckin’ time this month!”

“you keep count?” deku squeaks, voice rising anoctave.

“only on tuesdays and fridays, and i gotta admit— your girlfriend has such pretty tits, i dunno how you can’t pop a stiffy just lookin’ at those things, so round…s’soft,” he sounds like his mouth is watering, words sloshed around the spit pooling on his tongue. “i bet they feel as soft as those puppies from the ryan reynolds puppy interview.” bakugou says, looking somewhere off that you can’t see, yours and deku’s eyes follow it to the wall but don’t spot anything.

“who the fuck are you talking to?”

“them, the readers. filthy sluts they are. hi gorgeous…we’ll get to the smutty parts in a bit, kay?” then, deadpool turns back to you. “any fuckin’ ways, i think i’d fuck you better, hah? i can be somewhat of a tender lover,” kacchan sings, the last of his words falling into a gentle whisper. you hear the protests of your boyfriend in the distance, but it does nothing to quell the overwhelming lust tingling at the tips of your fingers and toes, clinging to every crevice of your mind. you wonder if you’re a bad girlfriend for even considering the proposal. “oh come on spidey, you can’t tell me you’ve never imagined someone else fucking your girl?”

within an instant, the masked assassin, katsuki bakugou, ( better known as deadpool ), yanks you up from the floor and spins you into his chest— your back to it, bending you into midoriya’s view. he gives a single, calculated thrust from behind for demonstration, the weight of his cock beneath layers of tarnished red and black leather, bumping against your cunt; knowing what it’ll do to you— cloud your judgement, make you whimper and whine.

between your gasps and sighs of increasing wanton, bakugou let’s his clothed hands travel up your Spider-Man shirt—drawing goosebumps along your skin as they make their way up to your breasts. “i’ll make you a deal,” squeezing the warm fleshy mounds between killer fingers, he pinches your nipples until you arch your back away from his chest with parted lips. “you let me fuck your girlfriend’s cunt and i won’t leak it to the press that you’ve got erectile dysfunction!”

“that’s not true!” izuku whines as if he’s a kicked puppy, cheeks flaming hot and red underneath his sunspot freckles.

an evil, breathy chuckle leaves kacchan’s lips, emitted through his mask against the shell of your ear— sending your body into a fit of shivers, liquid gold gathering between your bare folds at the sound. “sure it’s not, but they don’t know that.” you feel like crying, all the anticipation built up from dry humping your boyfriend earlier coming to a head as soon as you feel deadpool’s fingers on your clit, tapping the tiny sensitive bud as if to see how much it controls your pleasure, how responsive you are to his touch.

the sight of your eyes rolling back from a simple motion over your clit makes blood rush from his heart right down to deku’s cock, bringing it to life again, aching with need. “i don’t… i dunno,” he mumbles, sitting up and leaning forward to watch deadpool play between your thighs, pull pretty moans from between your angel lips. “if this is such a good idea—“

“please ‘zu!” you beg, a quivering mess from just a few strokes to your pretty pussy. “please izuku… please!”

and it’s as if the two men come to a mutual understanding, your boyfriend nods eagerly and the mercenary laughs again in satisfaction. “perfect! now keep still sweetheart, wanna be careful not to cut you up too badly,” he murmurs into the back of your neck. “blood doesn’t wash out too easily, that’s why i use lemon juice ‘n seltzer water. and i wouldn’t want t’mess you up too bad.” your eyes widen in protest when you hear the clang of metal and feel a cool blade practically run up your spine. your stare locks with the trusting one of izuku, who’s hand is already making work rubbing oje off on his new erection beneath the seedy wet stain on his suit, and it takes you a second to realise the man had used the katana strapped to his back to slice through your sleep shirt, causing the fabric to fall way from your chest. “better.”

in the next moment, you’re manhandled face down and ass up onto the bed, izuku moving to sit opposite you against the pillows to watch the scene unfold. you feel bare, fully naked with your glistening cunt on display to the hungry leers of a stranger you don’t know. a man who kills for fun and for sport. “i-it’ll be okay, love,” spidey does his best to reassure you, tentatively taking your fingers in his and pressing a kiss to them— but you don’t miss the way his free hand squeezes his latex bound, weighty balls impatiently.

“so cute, it’s like ‘m watchin’ and aftercare scene straight outta my little pony!” kacchan rolls his eyes beneath his mask, ruining your gentle moment before he turns away to look into the distance again to address his audience. “who’s yer favourite, reader? mine’s the unicorn but between you and me? twilight’s a fuckin’ cock sucking bitch.” with the focus back on you both, bakugou takes a hold of the globes of your ass— pulling them wide apart to get a wiff of your sweet arousal, a glorious view of how they stay connected by strings of your growing slick. “thatsa pretty view,”

squeezing deku’s fingers, and katsuki wastes no time easing one thick digit into your eager hole— pushing whatever leaks from your pussy back into you. your mouth falls open as he curls it, searching for that gummy spot inside you that midoriya knows by heart and hums behind the mask when you spasm around him— locking the finger inside your sweet cunt. “‘nother, c-can i have another?” the way you rasp out your words is like an aphrodisiac to both men, deku’s dick twitching as if you’ve called out for him while his anti-hero coworker groans, clapping his free hand against your ass, watching it jiggle and your juices glue them together again. “p-please, ‘zuku— please, i’ll be good— s-so good,”

spiderman has always been someone to help those in need, and you’re his pathetic little baby— who needs him, needs izuku to feel good and to cum. he can always do that. “i know love,” he inhales sharply, green eyes clouding over like a forest suffocated in a black smog of fiery lust. deku pervertedly looks between your perfectly arched ass, deadpool scissoring another finger into you, and your adorable face— lips between your teeth, eyes fluttering and he can’t help but soothe the pulse in his drooling cock by palming it once more while watching you. “k-kacchan, let’s add another finger, yeah? make her—“

“shut the fuck up, would’ya pretty boy?” katsuki snarls, twisting his fingers along the insatiable, streaming cavern of your core until you choke on a moan. “let’s not forget who’s doin’ the fucking here.” he tells both you and your boyfriend, reminding you of your places. “we had a deal, bug boy,” he punctuates each of his words with a ravishing thrust of his digits past your sluice entrance, making you claw at the sheets and sink your nails into deku’s hand. “and if you want somethin’ pretty girl, you gotta ask for it.”

“d-deadpool,” you plead wetly, lightheaded from the heated excitement of finally being fucked in the way you deserve. “please…”

“it’s katsuki, baby,” there’s movement behind you again, and before you can ask what’s happening—katsuki bakugou is between your trembling thighs from behind, aggressively pulling his mask up and over his chin and nose as if he’s just as needy for this as you are. “‘m gonnna tongue fuck ya,” he says like it’s a statement, his husky voice wavering wwith an appetite for sex. katsuki sounds so much better without the mask, the sound of the deep chocolate octaves of his voice only making you gush around his fingers that plug you full. “and you’re gonna watch, spidey-fuck. god you’re so much more fuckin’ pathetic here than in the comics.”

red eyes behind the white of the mask swill up the way your mound shines under the night and clenches around his gloved fingers that stuff you nice and full. deadpool’s nose nestles itself between your swollen, wet folds— breathing in deep in the nastiest way possible while his cock throbs at the scent of your arousal. it’s then that he juts his head upwards, nudging against your clit that grows even more prominent with each wave of sex hormone laden blood that rushes to it.

“oi underoos, c’mere— lay down on the bed ‘n kiss her while i make out with this little cunt like a horny teenager on prom night.” deadpool sounds excited, happy to be the reason that heat sparks under your skin like being pricked with hot metal— his tongue darts out from his sinful mouth to trace over the length of your slit, humming in content at your honeyed taste. “fuck me, it must be christmas.” bakugou kicks his feet, deku crawling to be flat on his stomach before you. “web her down, she keeps squirmin’.” he adds, practically bouncing for joy when deku uses his web slingers to tie your waist to the bed.

just as your hero boyfriend saves you from letting out a pornographic moan, slotting his own mouth against yours, your uninvited guest does the same— pressing his own to the entirety of aroused sex, sucking greedily at the dribble of slick coming from you like a broken tap. you feel so overwhelmed, two tongues licking at you in two different places. izuku’s tongue slides lazily over yours, head tilting to swallow your voracious, agonised deplores.

“baby y’sound so pretty,” izuku whines, already rutting his hips onto the bed in the same pace that kacchan eats you out, dragging his tongue in circles over your tight hole, faster and faster the louder you get, struggling to keep quiet even as deku kisses you sloppily. hormones breach the air between the three of you, rattling around like crazed particles only served to make you feel dizzy, controlling every movement of your body as you buck your hips back onto the masked face of the man controlling your pleasure, riding out everything on the tip of his tongue. “s’wet down there too…does she taste good kacchan?”

the sounds of katsuki slurping and sucking every drop of your essence from your mound before it can drip onto the sheets below. reluctantly, he pulls away from your slit— connected to your sticky pussy by ropes of your creamy arousal. “like fuckin’ heaven,” he looks up to the ceiling. “sorry big guy,” right before digging back in, the mercenary spitting onto your cunt and watching as the frothy mixture slides down the length of you. in his next movements, he grabs your hips and yanks you back onto his mouth until his tongue is all the way inside of you, the pink muscle writing against ribbed, souse walls. “yer such a mess down here sweetheart, you gettin’ off to this? being used by someone who ain’t your man?”

there’s a guttural rasp in bakugou’s words spoken against the rising temperature between your thighs, marred skin of his chin shining with your viscous arousal. he makes you a mess, ruins you for better or for worse— you can’t tell. you can’t even tell what’s up or down. izuku is in no better shape than you, shamelessly bucking his hips into the sheets below just from watching your expressions as katsuki fucks you with his tongue like it’s his cock.

the bed creaks lowly beneath the weight of your ministrations, every lick and suck, perhaps bite from the anti-hero against your pathetically soaked pussy has your entire body in mind-numbing shivers and shakes, legs threatening to give out on you at any moment. “c-can i cum?” you stutter out, tensing when gloved fingers are once more slipped past the frothing white ring of your entrance— it’s a tight fit, has your eyes bulging and your fingers clawing at anything to hold onto, your boyfriend the victim.

he senses the pain of your death grip before he feels it, supernatural senses causing the feeling to mix into a delightful sting, pulling deku under and stealing his breath from his lungs watching you unravel for another man. it bricks up his length, his seedy precum covered tip catching on the ridges of fabric wrinkling in your bedsheets. everything only intensifies when the mercenary draws a knife from his holster, daring to drag the material against the curve of your ass, smiling wickedly at your attempts to move away from the cold blade despite craving the digits currently plunged inside of you.

he might cum in his suit again, mouth falling open with your own— your moans mingling in unison for a sweet song like a harmony to deadpool’s ears.

“whaddya say spidey, should i let ‘er cum?” deadpool goads, fingers fucking into you at a godspeed pace, tongue tracing his chicken scratch signature into your puffy, overworked clit— keeping you on a tilted ledge familiar to you, right before your high. “should i make your girl cum?”

fat, weighty tears build up in your eyes, the decision sitting in the sex tainted air as your boyfriend holds back his own orgasm. “yes, g-god yes, please let her cum kacchan.”

you feel it creeping up at you, ready to drown you out in endorphins— but as soon as the twisting feeling in your gut comes, it’s quickly ripped away from you, katsuki’s fingers pulling from your sex only to grip at your waist and hoist you how he wants you, despite your whines and begs to feel release.

“nah,” he says simply. “she won’t get t’cum till you do, and you won’t until i do, now isn’t that a plot twist.” he adds addressing you the reader this time, hardly breathing as he yanks down the leather of his pants to grab hold of his dick, thrusting it back and forth between your pussy lips as if they’re welcoming him home— met with resistant only when pushing into, despite how much he’d stretched out your little hole. “didn’t i open ya up enough sweetheart? you’re still so fuckin’ tight…or maybe spidey doesn’t get his cock in you enough to make a difference.”

deku sits up at the change in position, a superhero strength taking over him as he rips through his latex suit— finally bringing some relief to his erection. your boyfriend’s cock feels and looks different to deadpool’s… he’s longer where katsuki is thick, pale with a pretty pink tip covered in white from how turned on he is from watching you get ruined by someone he’s worked with. your own mouth waters, watching izuku take hold of his curved shaft that pulses with the mean words his colleague spits at him— precum clings to each vein, adding a sinful shine to the length of him, guiding the steady movements of his fist that cups his cock…enjoying the show.

“she gets a little tighter right before you push in,” the green haired hero beefs from deep within his throat, the glow of his eyes trained on the way bakugou’s fat cockhead brushes against the beginnings of your soft walls, trying to push into your little abused cunt. your eyes water at the delightful sting, tears streaking a path down the apples of your cheeks as your body breaks into a sheet of goosebumps. “gotta keep tryin’ s-she’ll take you eventually.”

they talk about you like you’re not even there, using you in one way or another to get off but katsuki tries again, peeling his leather covered chest from your sweat slicked back and shoving his knee between your soaked thighs to part them even wider. deku groans as even more of your pulsating pussy stretching around the masked man is revealed to him. “it…h-hurts,” you hiccups, muscles in your hips locked despite how badly you want it. “y-you’re bigger than ‘zuku, katsuki,” and even though there is a twinge of pain every time the anti-hero fucks an inch of his length into you, you rock your hips back onto him— smiling to yourself as more of his girth sinks into you.

“ya hear that, shitty bug. your girlfriend thinks my cock is worth more than yours,” a contended, deep sigh lays wet on bakugou’s lips— teasing in tone as he ploughs onwards, his voice making your cunt shudder and grip onto his mushroomed, oozing tip, letting your cunt catch onto every ridge and bump and burned imperfection decorating his shaft. “tellin’ me how to fuck this pussy when he’s barely been in it himself, pathetic, hah sweetheart?” you should feel bad for agreeing, nodding your head feverently, but there’s hardly time to think what you say over. bakugou’s fingers, calloused from whatever birthed deadpool dance over your soft tummy, your hip bone to pacify the bite of your pain by fumbling with your pleasure bud, writing praise against it so you open him up like a flower in bloom— sweet nectar painting his entire hand, and again the skin of your thighs.

“you gonna let him take you, love?” deku manages to ask over the drool filling his mouth and flooding the palette of his tongue. “i know you can, you’ve always been so good at doing what you’re told.” the rising temperature of the room turns his face as red as the suit cutting deliciously into your skin from behind, kacchan’s mask tough against your back and ass as he grinds his meaty cock into you.

you shake your head yes for what feels like the millionth time, head lolling back to rest against deadpool’s shoulder— too weak to hold himself up since the added stimulation between your legs as you selfishly sucking more of the man in, letting his girth nestle itself against your warmth, churning you up just right. the more attention he pays to your clit, the more of himself he fucks into you until he’s able to bottom out, balls snug against your iron hot cunt. every movement, each twitch in the room comes to a standstill so everyone can adjust, your core rippling around katsuki and izuku beginning to cup his dick, waiting for his friend’s command to touch himself.

bakugou sets a steady rhythm to his hips, calculatedly making sure each one hits deep enough to smear his thick precum against your g-spot, his hips fluidly flowing into you like a rushing river— skin on skin echoing throughout the room. slick sounds accompany the tune of sex, izuku wrapping a firm hand around his own shaft, jerking himself off in tune with the speed at which katsuki passionately ruts into you— shameful and creamy as you swallow him up. deku fucks his fist like it’s your greedy little entrance, if he closes his eyes tight enough it feels just like you. sweat beads on his hairline like humiliation builds up in his bloodstream, carried about his body and straight to his arousal bleeding tip that his thumb circles over, pushing through the beads of precum at the slit.

you feel everything, the slow stroke of deadpool’s creamed tip into your sluice and gooey insides, drowned in what feels like gallons of your essence— weakly rocking your hips down onto his, with tiny mewls that send both men into a frenzy. “couldn’t get your dick out for your girl but could for me fucking her? pathetic.” he sneers to your goody two shoes boyfriend, making him feel like even more of a pervert.

perhaps this does make him one, it’s been so long since izuku gave you the time of day and the attention that you needed— hanging his duty of Spider-Man just one peg above you always. he couldn’t even begin to imagine the amount of nights he’d left you, his loyal and sweet girlfriend unattended to because being the friendly neighbourhood hero garnered all of his focus. maybe being a little debauched was what your sex life needed, for izuku to take a seat and really learn how to make you see stars. to have his lover ravaged and pounded into like a bitch needing to be fucked in heat.

that’s what he needed to wake up— see how much his baby needed him. “‘m sorry,” he hiccups, emerald gem eyes filled with crystalline tears that catch in his waterline, from pleasure or regret, your boyfriend can’t even tell. clear precum guides his movements, hips rising from the bed needily while his palm slides up and down his lengthy and chubby shaft, white caught in the fuzz of his pubic hair. “‘m sorry i’m no good at f-fucking her— shit, that i can’t keep it up. love, god…”

“fuck me, yer whiney,” deadpool laughs between heaves of his chest, concentrated on taking you to cloud nine— letting you know that he fucks you better than anyone who has before. “aren’t you embarrassed that a man like me has both you and your girl a mess? c’mon spidey, at least act like you hate me doing your job.” izuku howls at the degradation, and though your eyes are hazy, you swear that he’s swollen with an impending orgasm— the shredded latex that covers his hands squeezing at his weighty balls that look just about to burst. “still don’t know how a wet wimp like you managed to bag such a pretty lady, s’almost like she’s paid to be here,”

licking a stripe up your neck, bakugou goes on, hands exploring every dip and curve in your body— pinching your sides and your clit and your nipples, nibbling on your shoulder and leaving marks where izuku would. “you know that right, that you’re fucking gorgeous,” his praise sends a shiver down your spine and butterflies in a frenzy within your lower tummy, leaving you gasping for air and a clenching mess. “moans sound so perfect, pussy swallowin’ me down… never met such a good girl, even when you’re crying like this.”

“i-i’m a good girl?” you manage over the balls tapping your pearl at the centre of your viscous honeyed cunt, wet slaps bouncing off the wall.

“so fucking good, sweetheart, love how you wrap around me, how you take this cock— you like it, i know you do,” he goes on, cupping your breasts as they bounce along with the rapid lunges of his hips, choking on a deep gripe of your name. “you like bein’ fucked while your boyfriend watches, you like that it’s me, don’t you? let’s play a game sweetheart, let’s pretend i’m your boyfriend who knows how to fuck you just right? yeah? get you all loved up and cockdrunk.”

one second he’s balls deep, the early signs of katsuki’s release painting your guts as he churns them up, the next he’s got you flipped onto your back— your head by izuku’s lap and your thighs hiked over the latter’s broad, muscular shoulders. the whole world tilts on its axis, your head swimming and ears filled with cotton at the new angle, deadpool ramming into you missionary style and fucking you like he means it, like he loves you.

“h-hah, k-katsuki…need more. need you!” you squeal, his tip grinding roughly against your g-spot over and over until it makes your vision shake. his pelvis is smooshed agonisingly against your swollen clit, stimulating you beyond belief, ripping you to shreds while every push and pull of his slender hips pieces you back together again.

seeing him smirk above you as he cages you in against the soiled sheets with one hand above your head, has you a sweating, wet mess— heavy tears clumped in your lashes at the view. deadpool’s…katsuki’s got to be attractive, you just know it. though his skin seems littered with rough, harsh scars, it glows golden under the artificial yellow lighting in your bedroom— tufts of blonde peek out from below the mask and you feel yourself grow woozy at his bright, white toothy grin. your hands, curious and needy, run from his slender and slutty waist up to his bulking arms and toned chest— mapping out his body built to kill, to fight, and when your arms wrap around his neck, you whimper with frustration, perhaps desperation— greedy eyes and cunt wanting more.

“take off your mask,” you beg between hiccuped cries, mouth hanging open when the mercenary’s speed picks up mercilessly. “wanna see your face… wanna know who’s f-fucking me this good.”

cocking his head to the side, a rough thumb presses into your clit between your joined bodies. “ask me nice ‘n pretty, gorgeous. r’member who you’re talking to.”

you keen into his touch, back arching off the bed and ankles locking just above his ass. you hear izuku above you, groaning at the sight before him— while his friend moulds you into the shape of his cock. “go on baby, know you can be good…use your manners,” he heaves, shifting so that his knees are either side of your head, fisting his cock rapidly over your tear soaked face.

“please,” you repeat to both of them, pout on your face, voice hoarse.“t-take off your mask, please.” it’s only fair he does as you ask, since both yourself and deku are practically naked— himself almost fully clothed.

pulling the hand locking you against him, bakugou uses it to rip off his mask— tossing it back into the room somewhere only to lean down close, squishing your cheeks between his rough fingers. “like what’cha see gorgeous?” his voice is thick with ecstasy, filtering through your ears like warm honey and filling you with a similar sense of heat. katsuki is a fucking god. where your boyfriend, deku, is pretty, adorable and sure does have his moments, deadpool is another kind of attractive— a scar from his battles running down the length of his chiselled face as if he’s been carved from the same marble used to make statues of gods. his eyes remind you of molten lava, red pools bubbling over with such intensity you might pass out. “‘cause i do, love how you look right now, pussy chokin’ my cock like you wanna milk it, clingin’ onto me. love it, sweetheart.”

“love you,” you mewl in response, the world around you beginning to fall away— cease to exist, where the only feelings you know are katsuki’s shaft pressing up against your inner most sensitive spots and izuku tapping is leaky cock against your cheeks, wet moans of your name, tight and broken clinging to the air. “i love you, love your cock, love this, love you ‘zuku…” the three of you are a mess of juices splashing about the place and hot-to-the-touch skin, waves of clear liquid spewing from your puckered hole, creating a wet pap every time katsuki plunges back into you at unthinkable speeds.

“you love me, hah? c’mere,” bakugou swoops down, a grip on the backs of your thighs as he pushes your knees towards your chest and connects his lips to your own. the new angle has all of his weight onto you, galaxies forming behind your eyes while he pounds into your foaming entrance with rhythmic claps. his tongue swipes over your bottom lip, delves into your mouth until you can feel him right in your throat and sucks on your lips until they’re swollen and raw. “gonna take care of you where the shitty bug can’t, keep this pretty body nice and full of my cock— fuck me baby, you’re so sweet.” he tells you like it’s a promise, fucks it right into that empty head of yours.

while you grasp at sunshine locks, deku pants weakly behind you, strings of his near release dripping onto your face— his voice rising in octave. he’s trying so hard not to cum, savouring the pretty show being put on just for you, a front row seat to your sex grinding slick and lewdly up against bakugou’s, a creamy ring frothing around his base. “kacchan,” he cries, squeezing the bottom of his own dick to stave off his orgasm. “‘m gonna cum.”

“no. you’re not. you wanna cum before your girlfriend does? no wonder why she’s so hungry for me cock you can barely last yourself,” although the blonde’s words are mean, evil enough to make your precious boyfriend hiccup with his own wave of tears, running low on stamina and hips rutting high into nothing, bakugou takes hold of deku’s chubby cock, guiding it before your lip locks and kisses. “suck, sweetheart. he cums, you get to cum, kay?”

“uhuh,” you agree, pacified by having both of your entrances filled and let your strawberry tongue glide over izuku’s salty tip just the way he likes— hollowing your cheeks to suck him in nice and deep.

between watching his girlfriend get her pussy destroyed by another man and having her swallow him down, tight throat constricting around him— there’s no way izuku can last any longer, especially when bakugou spits on to his shaft, rolling his balls too. he wants nothing more than to watch you both fall apart from him, switching his attention from your boyfriend to you, seemingly flipping a cold blade out of nowhere to press against your throat— knowing it’ll only get you wetter, sloppier and messier, messing with your mind.

it gets you to clench just right too.

“fuck…that’s it, fuckin’ shit…” katsuki seems to have no control over his body either, barely holding back but the sight of your throat bulging for deku and your creamed cunt is enough to send him over the edge. he chokes on a moan of relief, tip nudging your g-spot and hands shaking with the treat of cutting your pretty throat as he runs towards his orgasm. “g-god sweetheart, got me breedin’ you. fuck, you want it bad,” static nearly blinds the anti-hero, curses spilling from his lips like his gum that spills into you in hot white ropes. he hisses, pulling his cock from your spasming hole and jerks himself off through the rest of his high, cumming and cunning until it splatters up your soft, marked tummy and over your ruined pussy lips.

“can i cum now? c-can i? d-don’t think i can— oh baby… h-hold it!” your spider-man boyfriend comes next, thick and right down your throat until you choke on his heavy seed as it pours out by the corner of your swollen lips— he has to web your wrists together to stop you from pinching his freckled thighs so that he pulls out, the rest of his hot load shooting over your face, tangling in your eyelashes as his body convulses above your own.

with his breathing evening out, bakugou takes hold of his weighty length, smearing his seed into your skin and over your ravaged mound— knowing that you sit on the edge of your own release, a stunning mess of tears and cum and juices. “think it’s your turn, hah, pretty girl?” he grins wide at how you can barely manage to nod, and exhausted from the night’s activities. the blonde mercenary only tuts, slapping his cockhead against your clit, pushing it into your slit along with globs of his cum until the knot in your stomach twists, unravelling violently and all at once, release splattering out against his stomach, in a clear stream. “there you go, doin’ so well.”

“so well beautiful,” izuku parrots, mesmerised by the way your face contorts into an adorable pout while you cum, coated in his own release that spreads over his tongue as he leans down to kiss you slow, and encouragingly to swallow the scream you let out.

the three of you collapse a pile of over exerted limbs, with deku checking you over like the hero he truly is.

“so, same time next fuckin’ week?” deadpool asks, grinning when you agree hastily. “and oi, you lot. don’t go askin’ for a part two. it ain’t happenin’, it’s a private screening.”

deku hums in agreement too, but makes a mental note to ask iron man to make him a looser suit, for practical reasons of course— not so it’s easier for him to fuck you, or anything.

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peachsayshi · 7 months

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Hey, Peaches! For the "102 types of kisses"... May I request for 38 or 46 for Choso? 🥺👉👈 He's been rotting my thoughts and you always write him so deliciously.

➳ minors / ageless / blank blogs dni / this blog is 20+ for follows

38. Character A pressing Character B up against the wall and kissing them senseless (102 types of kisses)

⥽ notes: mavis, darling! thank you so much for requesting choso! <3 I hope you like this xo

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ tags: au; secret fwb relationship; jealous choso; hot and heavy kissing; dirty talk; implied that the reader isn't wearing a bra; nipple play

you taste like strawberries dipped in honey. the texture of your tacky lipgloss sticks to choso's lips, and he sighs dreamily as you part your eager mouth to slide your tongue along his. you paint your fingers in black ink when you tangle them between the strands of his hair, and moan shamelessly when he sneaks his hand underneath your top to tweak at your hard, sensitive nipple.

he isn't seeing red anymore. his anger easily withering away by your touch, and the unfiltered jealousy evaporates as he slides his other hand into the back pocket of your jeans to tug you even closer to his frame.

"mmph-cho..." you moan with a subtle grind of your hips, lashes fluttering when you rub over his bulge and you drop your hands down to his firm chest to squeeze the fabric of his black hoodie.

he slips his thigh between your legs, slotting himself perfectly into you like a puzzle and giving you something grind against. he pulls away to find the delicate curve of your neck, and sucks on the tender flesh with a hunger that sends a ripple down your spine.

is this what you wanted? he thinks. is this all part of some fun little game to play with my mind?

he had to stand their in silence watching the guys flock around you like incessant birds putting on a show for their mate. he clenched his jaw at geto, whose gaze never left your chest, listening to him spew sentence after sentence with all his smooth talking. he rolled his eyes at gojo, who upped his eccentric humor in order to garner a few pretty laughs out of you, and he nearly snapped at mahito for his inability to comprehend personal space when he would nonchalantly place an arm around your shoulder or waist.

yes, you were all friends, but choso had to deal with the brunt of their desire over you, while still remaining tight lipped about the truth behind your "friendship".

the guys continuously threw the term "friend-zoned" in his face on the belief that choso managed to keep his hands to himself after all these years.

"you've known each other since high school," he remembers geto mocking, "if you haven't fucked by now, then you probably never will"

"that's right," mahito egged on, "she's fair game"

little did they know that you have always been his; your first kiss belonged to him, your first experience with pleasure was done by his hand, he was the first man you've ever tasted on your tongue, his mouth the first to know the divine flavor of the space between your legs, and he was the first person to feel the way your body trembled when he fucked you tenderly against his bed sheets.

which is why he can't help but feel tested when you showed up at tonight's gathering wearing an outfit that had you looking like a delectable little treat and making the rest of the guys salivate over you.

choso adjusts his position, spinning on his heel quickly so your back was now pressed up against the cool, concrete wall of your hallway. he pinches the tip of your breast and squeezes your ass through your jeans. the stimulation only makes you cry out with pleasure as your lover smiles against your neck with approval.

idiots, he thinks, with your response fanning his ego in a way that nothing else in this world ever could.

"unh, choso you're makin' me wet..." you pant, but he simply captures your lips once more for a heated kiss and softly ruts his pelvis into you.

"m'hard too," he mumbles into the kiss, "you had me turned on since you walk in with these poking through your shirt..."

he lightly brushes his knuckles over the taut buds, and you exhale softly as you lift your arms while he tugs at fabric and pushes it above your chest.

he drops the material onto the ground, both hands now groping the pillow soft mounds as you lure him back in for another kiss.

if only the others could see him now, he scoffs. if only they knew what he was really up to when he excused himself to drive you back home.

he's so used to being underestimated by those around him, knowing full well that the guys would never believe that quiet, introverted choso could bag someone as beautiful and mesmerizing as yourself.

you pull away, cupping his jaw in the palm of your hands and swiping a glittering string of spit from his bottom lip.

"wanna sleepover?" you politely ask, with the same question that he's heard many times before, and the one that always makes the blood rush between his legs.

"yeah," he exhales, pressing a gentle kiss against the pad of your thumb. his hands drop to the waistband of your jeans. he unfastens the button, slowly releases each notch of the zip before slipping his hand to feel the source of your heat.

"I wasn't planning on going home anytime soon..." he murmurs as he closes the gap by pressing his mouth to yours.

years of this, of this off-and-on game, with lovers in between and periods where the benefits were off the table...and yet, you both always circle back to this very point of winding up tangled in each other's limbs and succumbing to the heaviness of sleep after another night of pleasure.

⥽ requests?

#choso x reader #choso x you #choso x female reader #choso x y/n #choso smut #choso fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #babygirl choso 🥰#requests.✍️

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waynes-multiverse · 6 days

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Plastic Hearts – Part 21

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut (p in v, dirty talk, spanking), fluff, angst, comfort

Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: It's finally happening! Get the Office gifs ready 👀😂 It's so good to bring this series back after such an unexpectedly long time away. We've got five more chapters left, so let's make 'em count with as much drama and ridiculousness as possible, shall we? Ready? And action! 🎬

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21. Rock You Like A Hurricane

Dean swallows the clot that has formed in the back of his throat as the first button of her white cotton blouse flies open. The air in the office feels dry, his mind hazy. Is he dreaming? Once again, he reminds himself to stop mixing booze and blow. It never ends well and barely ever helps.

Another step forward, another button, another swallow.

Y/N is a Fata Morgana, a mirage, slowly moving towards him through blurry lines and summer heat.

“Don’t you want me?”

The innocent lip bite that accompanies her question sends him downstairs, predestining him to burn in hellfire. He swallows again. Of course, he wants her. He always does.

The heels of his boots dig into the rotten floorboards as he pushes back on his office chair, enough to free his thighs from underneath the wooden desk and show off the bulging erection blooming in his jeans. It started to form as soon as she walked in and turned that damn lock behind her back.

The corners of her pink lips rise to a smile. She likes what she sees, and soon enough, she finds herself slotted between his bow legs with his greedy palms smoothing up her denim-clad thighs until they find a home on the juicy globes of her ass and squeeze tight. Green eyes darken as they wander up her frame before they meet two sparkling orbs that mirror his own lust back to him.

More buttons spring open, the blouse slipping off her shoulders and hitting the ground. A gray leotard becomes visible, two pointed peaks on luscious hills poking through the thin material, his mouth forming a ring around one of them, hot air igniting her skin and stealing her breath. Her arms weave around his neck, her head lolls back between her shoulder blades, her legs grow unsteady. Eyes close, fingers tangle in his hair and claw at his skin.

One large hand travels to the front, works the zipper of her jeans, and shimmies the denim fabric down two smooth thighs. His other arm snakes around her waist, holds her tight, and pulls her closer until she straddles his lap and lets their hips fuse into one.

Their eyes find each other. Gently, he brushes her hair out her face, tucks it behind her ears, strokes her flushed cheeks. She’s breathless and breathtaking, and then she dips her head and catches his lips, kissing him until he is, too.

“Wait, wait, wait…” He draws back in a drunk state of mind and gasps for air, hoping oxygen will help in clearing his head.

“What?” She pouts, her voice velvety soft and delirious.

“I just-… I have to ask you something first, make sure…” The air works wonders, the fog dissipates from his mind. Green eyes watch her closely. There’s something off, something wrong, something out of place. Y/N wouldn’t just stroll into his office and throw herself at him. As much as he enjoys this little dream sequence, it’s not who she is. “Why are you doing this? You’re not-, uhm…” He swallows harshly, his mind racing in circles. “You’re not fucking me, so I’ll stop being mad at you, right? ‘Cause that’s not what I want.”

God, the thought alone kills him. It’s his goddamn nightmare. What if he subconsciously manipulated her to do this? What if he’s taking advantage of her? What if he drove her so desperate that she sees this as her only option? What if she actually doesn’t want this?

But a gentle smile forms on her face instead. She pecks his lips, rests her forehead against his, and softly shakes her head. There’s amusement in her voice. “You already said you weren’t mad at me, remember?”

“Then why?”

Y/N shrugs and licks her ample lips. “I want to. I want you… You’re the best guy I know. I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more,” she assures him with a sweet smile and caresses the scruff on his cheeks, her hips grinding against his crotch. “It’s just-…” She bites down on her lower lip, cutting off her sentence.

“What? Tell me, sweetheart.” He clutches her chin and draws her gaze to meet his eyes.

“Even with the show being over, I don’t want the girls to find out,” she confesses nervously.

Dean nods in understanding and gifts her a smile. “Lucky for you, I’m good at keeping secrets. Have I ever let you down in that regard?”

She thinks for a beat, then shakes her head and matches his smile. “No.”

“See?” He grins, showing his pearly white teeth, and pulls her lips back to his for a searing kiss that seals their deal.

His hands begin to roam the curves they’re holding, her hips rocking against his in a needy rhythm, desperately searching for more friction to scratch the unbearable itch he seems to cause.

“Need you so bad, need this cock so bad…” she whispers between kisses and ragged breaths.

“Yeah? You think you can get off like that?” Dean lifts his thigh a little higher, shoves it right against her clothed cunt to give her a bit more friction, and listens to her whimpers in satisfaction. “Show me how much you want this… want me, baby girl. Wanna know how desperate you are for this cock, Y/N. Work for it.” His challenge is accompanied by a little smirk, which soon disappears and becomes stuck in his throat when Y/N accepts with eager nods.

Shit, he really needs to stop underestimating her. That’s already been his first mistake when he met her.

Her arms lock tighter around his neck for more balance as she rubs her pussy against the rough denim that covers his thick thigh. Her breathing grows so labored that kissing becomes an impossibility, the need for air in her lungs greater than the need to stay connected. The strong arm slung around her waist helps her move while his other hand tweaks, pinches, and gropes her tit, prying the gray cotton of her leotard over one shoulder to free the flesh and expose her nipple to the cool office air and his hot breath. He feels a wet patch forming on his leg, sees the stain on his jeans from her arousal as he peeks down between them.

“Dean, I’m–…”

Y/N doesn’t have to say it out loud. He can see it on her face that she’s damn close. “Such a good girl. Cum for me, huh? Let me finally fill and stretch this nice pussy with my cock, baby. Been waiting for you,” he coos. “Bet you’re so tight, yeah? How long’s it been?” His tongue licks the hardened bud before he pops her tit in his mouth and sucks, bites, tears.

“Fuck!”

She explodes, his name falling from her lips in prayer as she trembles and quivers in his arms. Her mouth parts, sucks in as much air as she can to fuel her lungs. Her arms cling to him, fingers denting the skin on his broad shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” Dean praises her, smiling as he lets her ride out her orgasm. “So, so pretty when you come. I missed that face.”

“Dean, please… Need you inside me now,” she purrs against his lips, swallowing his groans as they connect.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Uh-huh, please,” she begs breathily. “How d’you want me, boss?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” Hearing what a woman wants him to do to her or what she wants to do to him has always been one of the biggest turn-ons for him. “Tell me.”

“Want you to bend me over your desk, take me hard, punish me… Been a bad girl. Need you to punish me, please,” she whimpers and hungrily claims his lips, her nails digging into his jaw.

Now, Dean should probably be worried or at least stumped by her somewhat strange request. Not because it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard a woman ask for in the bedroom, but because it’s not necessarily something Y/N would say. However, she’s also an actress, and he’s about 99.9% sure she’s playing a role and following a script in her head. And well, hey, he likes playing too, so who would he be to deny her wishes? He’s been dreaming about spanking her ass and punishing his favorite Russian villain for weeks at this point.

“I think we can arrange that, baby girl,” he promises, a saucy smirk plastered on his lips. “But first – need to see your face when I break you in, yeah?”

Y/N grins and nods against his lips, her hand reaching down between their heated bodies and unbuckling his belt, pulling it from its loops, metal clinking before the sound of a zipper follows. Lifting her ass from his lap, he helps her strive off the denim, pushing it down his legs till it pools by his ankles, only leaving a thin barrier of cotton between them.

“Condom?”

Dean nods and motions for her to stand up, so he can reach into the bottom drawer of his desk. As he fishes out a foil packet, Y/N discards her leotard, nothing but naked skin and flesh left for his eyes to devour. Removing his own pair of boxers, his long cock bounces against his stomach and stretches to his belly button, fully erect, head swollen, and leaking at the tip. He tears the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex down his aching length before his hands drag her back into his lap.

Her arms settle on his muscular shoulders, her lips find and bruise his as he lines himself up with her entrance and threads his dickhead through her dripping folds. Her cunt is pink and glistening, hot and wet as he slowly slides inside, lets her feel every inch that fills her tight hole to the brim, her small body sinking down on him till they’re inseparable.

A moan escapes them both when he’s fully sheathed in her heat, and Dean knows lasting long would border on a miracle. Her mouth falls open as he stretches her tight walls, her eyes seeking his and not daring to look anywhere else. Unsurprisingly, Y/N takes direction well. She remains connected to him – mind, body, and soul.

“Fuck, Dean,” she breathes and swallows at the sheer thickness inside of her, her eyes finally falling closed as their foreheads meet.

Dean caresses her cheek and softly pecks her hairline. He then shuts his eyes as well and just focuses on the feeling of her wrapped around him for a blissful heartbeat. This is all he ever wanted.

Her. Here.

“You good?” he checks, his fingers trailing soothingly up and down her spine as she relaxes her muscles and adjusts to his size.

A gentle smile twitches and tugs on her lips. “Yeah, I’m great… You feel great.”

“You know, if you keep giving me compliments like that, it’s gonna be hard for me to smack your perky ass purple and blue,” he chuckles and watches a grin form.

“I like to make things hard for you,” she sasses and kisses his lips, her pussy purposely gripping his throbbing dick.

“There’s my bad girl.” Dean can’t fight the smile on his face. “Alright, you ready?”

Dean doesn’t have to wait for an answer as her hips begin to lift and rock against him, calming like the Pacific waves and soothing like the lullabies his mother used to sing when he was sick as a child.

“M-more,” Y/N whines, the needy desperation haunting her vocal chords.

“Beg for it,” Dean whispers, nuzzling his nose against her ear with a smirk.

“Please… Please fuck me, boss,” she rasps her pleas. “Need it hard and fast.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” Dean catches her lips, the kiss scorching and lasting before his hands smooth up her bare thighs and grab her ass tight, lifting them both from the chair.

Swiftly, her soles hit the ground as he swirls her in his hold and bends her over his desk. Her tits press flush against the wood, his palms finding her hips as he pulls her closer to him, ass up until it brushes against his solid length. With his knees, he spreads her legs wide and easily slots between them. He palms both asscheeks, caresses the skin before he administers his first slap, the sound echoing through his quiet office with her whimper as he watches the juicy flesh ricochet, completely entranced.

“You got a safe word, Y/N?” Dean asks as he soothes the red spot on her cheek.

“Hmmm,” she muses and bites her lower lip, and he can see the mischief twinkling in her orbs. She giggles, “What about ‘camera guy’?”

His palm strikes the other globe, making her yelp and jolt on the spot.

“Ow, fuck!” Y/N’s moan drowns in a laugh. “Jesus, Dean, I was just kidding.”

The director chuckles, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” With one harsh and fast thrust, he drives his cock back into her tight cunt, causing her to slam forward, her hips bruising against the desk. Her fingers curl tightly around the edge, knuckles white as she keeps herself pinned in place. He leans forward, his chest pressing against her back as his warm breath fans against the shell of her ear, his blunt fingernails denting the skin on her hips. Smirking, he demands, “Safe word. Now.”

“Fuck, uhm…” Breathlessly, her mind spirals, his cock slowly dragging in and out of her and not stopping to give her even a second to ponder. “Squirrel?”

“Squirrel it is,” he agrees amusedly, straightening as he picks up his pace and drives in deeper, watching as his dick gets swallowed by her soaking cunt, his swollen shaft glistening with her slick. “Shit, baby girl… Wish you could see how well you take me. Your needy little pussy sucks my fat cock right in,” he groans, listening in delight as his balls slap against her ass with each roll of his hips.

“Maybe you can bring your camera next time, boss,” Y/N mewls her suggestion as she falls apart underneath him.

“Yeah? Would you like that, huh? Would you like to see how fucking desperate you are for me, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh, would love that, boss. Wanna see how you fuck me and split me open,” she breathes hazily, her moans getting louder with each slam of his hips. “F-fuck, so close… Wanna come on your cock, please.”

“Oh, we can arrange that, sweetheart,” Dean chuckles, his breathing growing more labored as well as sweat starts to collect on his skin in sticky beads. He’s close, too, feels his cock throb and swell inside of her. His palm smacks her asscheek one last time. She cries out with pleasure as the sting burns her skin, her pussy clenching around his dick and gripping it tight.

But just as his hand sneaks to her front and finds the sensitive little nub, their ears both perk up as the big metal door of the gym flies open and a wave of female chatter floods inside.

“Oh, shit!” Y/N moans loudly at his last violent pound into her pussy before Dean’s palm covers her mouth and stops the rest from spilling out.

Pulling her up, her back straightens and presses flush against his body. He slows his thrusts but still pushes in deep enough to tickle her cervix and keeps the little circles on her clit alive, feeling her knees give in as her legs become putty. Her breathing is harsh and restricted against his palm, her lips straining and tightening to keep the screams inside.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh… you’re doing so, so good, baby,” Dean whispers his praises into her ear and chuckles as she clenches hard around his dick. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Trust me, they won’t hear us over their blabbering,” he chuckles. “Relax, okay? Let loose… little more,” he orders her, feeling the tension in her muscles shift to her head as she bites down on his fingers to keep it locked inside. “There you go… Gonna need you to come quietly, and I’ll be right behind you, alright? Can you do that?” Y/N nods against his hand. “Good girl,” he coos and pecks her temple quickly.

And then, he draws out till only the tip remains inside her drenched channel before he roughly slams back in. His thrusts become relentless in both speed and force as he fucks her, her screams of pleasure only muffled by his palm and the harsh bite of her lip. Tears sting her eyes and stream down her cheeks, trickling onto his fingers at the intense pressure as her walls tighten. One more thrust, and they begin to flutter, her body convulsing as she falls over the cliff and milks his cock for all he’s got, pulling him over the edge with her.

A primal grunt rumbles in his chest and crawls out of his throat, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips behind as he spills hot ropes of his seed into the condom, his cock throbbing in rhythm with her twitching cunt. His hand falls from her mouth as she braces her palms on the wooden surface in front of her.

Deliriously, they both gasp for air, every breath jagged before the storm within them calms. Dean brushes her hair from her sweat-covered neck and lovingly kisses the salty skin on her shoulder blade, a blissful smile gracing his lips.

The sun blinds her eyes as Y/N stands on the green, perfectly cut lawn of the Dusty Spur. The boys have called an emergency meeting at the motel this time, gathering all the women in front of the reception outside.

It’s been three days since she has fucked the director in his office. He was careful not to leave any marks on her throat behind or anywhere else where it might catch unwanted attention, no one batting eyelashes at the new bruises on her hips that joined some of the old ones from training.

Dean told her he wanted a repeat of their encounter, whispering the dirtiest and most sinful promises into her ear. However, they haven’t seen much of each other since then. Both of them have been quite busy after the news of their new time slot and impending cancelation broke. And while it certainly dampened the lighthearted mood in the gym for a day, hope was not entirely lost, though, and still thrived in everyone but Y/N and Jo.

Yet, the two of them played along with the illusion the show still could be saved for the sake of the team. She didn’t know why Jo was entertaining the farce, but Y/N did it for her friends and, well, Dean, who’d been pondering and working nonstop to try and figure out what went wrong in his well-oiled machinery.

Y/N hates that he blames himself, not having the guts to tell him it’s in reality all her fault. Even with his sunglasses on his freckle-dusted nose, she can see the bags under his green eyes from the lack of sleep in recent days and feels more guilt pooling in the pits of her stomach. She doesn’t want him to be mad at her again, which is why she’s glad she can use Billie’s new, harsh training regiment as a good excuse to avoid him.

“They gave a men’s wrestling show our slot! And you wanna know why, hm?” Cas throws his rhetorical question into the group. Y/N has never seen the producer so angry and swallows more shame down. “Truth is, they’re better! They fly higher and hit harder!

“They hit harder because they’re bigger. It’s physics,” Y/N points out and tries to keep her annoyance at bay. It’s a men’s world they’re living in, and she’s getting sick and tired of the comparisons.

“Oh, fuck physics, Y/N!” Cas yells, causing her to flinch at his tone. “I need you to take everything you got and push it all the way to the limit, okay?”

“I don’t know what else we can do. We’ve been training for hours almost every day. Sun up till sun down,” Donna says and sighs.

Maybe it’s not too late, and Y/N should request a private meeting with Dick at the network, try and smooth things over before they get any worse. Maybe a blowjob in the office is enough to get them their old slot back and save the show. Dean wouldn’t ever have to know, right?

Besides, would he even care? Maybe he’d be grateful. After all, she doesn’t have much worth beyond fucking someone if you asked anyone here.

“I don’t need to hear excuses. I need to hear results,” Cas huffs and places his hands on his squared-off hips, shaking his head.

“You want bigger moves? Fine, you’ll get ‘em,” Billie assures him with a biting fighter spirit.

Cas’ lips curve into an enthusiastic smile. “That’s what I wanna hear! Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but I believe in miracles, and we’re going to make this miracle happen!”

Jo heaves a sigh. “Right, so we break our bodies and wrestle harder and magically get our time slot back?” she asks wryly, but her sarcasm is sadly lost on Cas.

“Yes!” the producer agrees joyously. “Look, I have it from Richard Roman himself that this is what they’ve been missing.”

At that, Jo’s blaming eyes wander to Y/N as the two former friends share a look. Shamefully, Y/N averts her gaze to the green grass underneath her feet, and Jo clenches her jaw tightly and starts to grind her teeth. Ever since their heated conversation in the gym, things have went downhill between them. Nowadays, there are just judgmental looks and passive-aggressive comments passed between them.

“So you met with Richard Roman?” Jo turns her unresolved anger towards the guys.

Cas groans loudly and rolls his blue eyes back. “Jo, I’m sorry, okay? It was a guy thing. We had to storm the gates,” he explains.

“Yeah, don’t get back up on your feminist high horse, alright? We didn’t leave you out, okay?” Dean jumps to Cas’ defense and unsuccessfully smooths things over. “We just think your focus should be on performing this week, you know? You and Y/N have a big match coming up. The, uh, continuing tale of the bereaved mother and the insane Russian, right?”

Jo nods and clenches her jaw once more, biting back her surely fiery comments.

“Okay, enough talking! Let’s do it!” Cas announces eagerly and claps his palms together as the women scatter back to their rooms to get ready for today’s training.

“What time do you wanna rehearse today?” Y/N bitterly asks her blonde opponent, already expecting a bitchy answer.

“Oh, any time, really. I mean, we could rehearse all day and night. It won’t make a difference,” Jo replies in an annoyed tone as anticipated. “You of all people should know that.”

Y/N watches Jo leave, trying her hardest not to strangle her former friend. She gets it. She fucked up, but she still doesn’t agree with Jo. Would sleeping with Roman and sacrificing her dignity really have saved the show?

“Hey, everything alright?” Dean’s deep voice startles her. She was so preoccupied with killing Jo in her mind, she hasn’t even noticed the director sneak up on her. “I know Cas was a little intense today. Never seen the guy this riled up before. It’s like a puppy getting rabies.”

Y/N forces a chuckle from her throat and brushes him off. “Oh, uhm, yeah, wasn’t so bad. I get it.”

Dean’s brow creases, sensing something is off with her. Shit. She does not want the director to find out about what happened.

“You’re not mad at me, right? I know I’ve been a bit MIA the last few days. It’s just been crazy with everything going on,” he explains sincerely and shoots her a soft smile. “I meant to call you or at least talk to you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, no, like I said, I get it, Dean. Don’t worry about me, okay?” she assures him and compels another smile to her face before her curiosity takes over. “Did Roman really say our moves weren’t good enough?”

Her hope comes flooding back. Maybe it truly wasn’t her fault. Maybe the guy hits on so many actresses on a weekly basis that he doesn’t even care if one rejects him. Maybe it’s just all in her goddamn head, and it was just bad luck all around.

Dean shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but you girls are amazing. He’s gonna change his mind, and you’ll be back in your old slot in no time,” he promises her hopefully.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Fuck. It’s definitely about her.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean checks again, noticing her absentminded behavior. Y/N’s usually chipper, eager, talkative, and hard to keep contained. She’s a warrior. The woman in front of him right now is the complete opposite, however. He almost doesn’t recognize her, and it worries him a little.

Is it him? Did he break her?

“Uh-huh, yeah, just tired, you know? Billie’s been riding us pretty hard this week,” Y/N excuses her strange mood with a half-truth, and Dean seems to buy it.

“Yeah, I bet.” He nods understandingly, chuckling. “Well, uhm, I’ve got some free time tonight. You wanna come over for dinner and I don’t know maybe… stay? You could ride me pretty hard, too,” he suggests, making her snort. “Admittedly, that sounded better in my head. Sorry.”

“No, uhm, I’d love to,” she replies honestly, giggling at his bashfulness. “But I’m pretty beat. Probably gonna fall into bed around seven like a dead person. Raincheck?”

Truthfully, there’s nothing she’d rather do than spend her nights (and days) with Dean, but the guilt in her belly is eating her alive. She can barely look him in the eyes. As of right now, though, she can see even more disappointment shimmering in his green orbs.

“Sure, yeah. Open invitation, sweetheart,” he says and acts as if her rejection doesn’t bother him. “But still, if all you wanna do is sleep, then you’re welcome to do that at my place as well. I do have the better mattress than the motel. Maybe a good night’s rest and a hot bath is all you need to recover, you know?”

Hot bath. The words make her skin crawl and take her right back to that horrible night where it all went wrong. How could she have been so stupid?

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat and fights for words. “Oh, uhm… I don’t, uh…”

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? No explanation needed, sweetheart,” Dean says and lets her off the hook. “Just wanted to offer, you know?”

“Thanks, another time.” Y/N forces one last smile to her lips.

Dean hasn’t seen Y/N in a whole week. Well, that’s not entirely true. He sees her every day at training in the gym, rolling around with Jo in the ring. But he hasn’t seen her privately since their little naughty stint in his office.

By now, he’s sure she’s avoiding him for some reason, but he doesn’t have the guts nor the balls to ask her straight. He’s too afraid of her answer, scared she has changed her mind about them and their arrangement. He’d accept it, of course, but he still doesn’t want to find out if that’s the reason why she keeps her distance. It would most certainly break his heart.

A knock on his office door makes his head snap up with hope that it’s Y/N. Either she’s here for another booty call or to end it. He’s prepared for both. To his surprise, though, it’s Donna who’s stopping by for a visit.

“Dean? Can we talk?” the curvy blonde asks insecurely, concern etched into every crease of her face.

“Sure, uh, what’s up?” Dean knows Donna and Billie have given their all to train the girls over the last few weeks, and if production could afford it, he’d give them both a gigantic raise. Unfortunately, he can’t but hopes it’s the thought that still counts.

“It’s about Y/N and Jo,” she informs him, and his ears perk up at that.

He’s noticed some tension between those two as well, so he’s not as surprised as he should have been. But honestly, sometimes it’s hard to tell what those two are fighting about. If it’s something new or just the same old beef.

“Usually, they do a good job of keeping their weird friendship stuff out of the ring, but not in the last week. There’s something wrong with them,” Donna tells him.

No shit, Dean thinks. Those two having issues is not an entirely new thing.

“What d’you want me to do about it?” Dean asks. He knows Donna didn’t just stroll into his office to chat and gossip. She’s looking for direction. Like the rest of these women downstairs, the blonde expects him to solve their problems. In the end, that’s his job.

“Postpone the match,” Donna prompts, the worry deepening. “I don’t think they should fight. They’re not communicating properly. Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

Dean tries not laugh, but in reality, it’s just fucking funny. Do these women ever think things through? Y/N and Jo’s match is the main storyline, the two of them being the best fighters as well. If they’re not entering the ring, he might as well just throw in the towel now and quit. The show would never make it back on air.

“Donna, I can’t do that,” he tells her frustratedly and runs a palm over his face. “C’mon, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like they’re gonna kill each other.”

“Dean–” Donna is about to interject when he stops her.

“Fine, all right? I’ll talk to her,” the director assures the blonde.

Donna’s brow shoots up. “Her?”

“Them. I’ll talk to them,” Dean corrects quickly and watches her leave his office, clearly dissatisfied with his solution.

Dean hates West Hollywood like a mouse hates a cat. He can’t believe he fucking agreed to this thing in the first place. And the only reason he did agree was his stupid daughter, who’s not even here tonight because she’d rather spend time with her boyfriend than with her dad.

Fucking teenagers…

Honestly, Dean’s got no clue why he still came here without Claire. Maybe because he’s old-school and actually keeps his commitments, or maybe it’s because he’s got nothing better to do since neither his kid nor his not-girlfriend want to spend time with him. So, it was either getting drunk at home alone like he always does or do this.

As Dean enters the dark theater, he notices not a lot of seats are taken. Surprise, surprise! No one cares about him or his movies…

There’s a group of teenagers in the front row, though, who seem to be way to young to watch one of his films. But who is he to judge? He’s not their fucking parent. God knows he’s got his hands full with one teenager already.

He’s about to take a seat somewhere in the back when his green eyes spy a familiar head of hair. His heart skips a beat when he recognizes his favorite actress. Out of all the places in all the world, he’d never thought he’d meet her here.

“Hey,” he says as soon as he’s made it to her row. Her head darts up, but she doesn’t seem too surprised to see him here, which makes this coincidence even weirder. He assumed she strolled by this theater by accident and saw one of his movies was showing, deciding to check it out, which just so happens to flatter him and stroke his ego perfectly fine. “What are you doing here?”

Dammit. That sounded way too aggressive. He’s honestly happy she’s here; he just hasn’t expected it. Call it a ‘pleasant surprise.’

“Oh, uh, Claire invited me,” Y/N explains and gulps nervously. “But I can leave if you don’t want me here.”

Damn that kid. Of course, she meddled in his affair. Does she know he likes Y/N? Is it that obvious? Well, either way, someone’s getting a bigger allowance this week. Doesn’t he have the best kid?

“No, uh, stay. Please,” he says and sends Y/N his best smile. “Can I sit with you?”

Her face lights up. “Sure.”

Dean sits down on a red velvet seat next to her and feels like a goddamn teenager on a first date. His knees are shaking as he anxiously taps his boots on the sticky movie floor and drums his palms repeatedly on his thighs. Something inside of him urges him to hold her hand and interlace their fingers, or do one of those moves where he yawns and slings his arm around her shoulders.

In fact, he can barely concentrate on the movie until he takes her hand in his. But who cares? He wrote and directed this masterpiece, so it’s not like he’s missing out on anything important. He already knows the plot and every single shot.

Once their fingers touch, his heartbeat accelerates to light speed. She shoots him a look and raises her brow with a teasing smirk. He can catch it from his periphery but doesn’t dare to look straight at her. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat and glues his green eyes stubbornly to the silver screen, pretending it’s not a big deal.

When did holding hands become such a fucking thrill? He’s not goddamn sixteen anymore, for crying out loud.

Y/N takes note of his uncomfortableness and focuses back on the movie but still gives his hand a small squeeze, telling him everything is all right. They remain exactly like this till the end credits roll across the screen.

And then, to his greatest surprise, there are cheers and claps from everyone in the theater. Y/N lets go of his hand to clap as well and bites her lip to hide a smile once she sees him blush furiously at the attention and admiration.

The group of teenagers then approaches him and stops by his row as a young, scrawny boy speaks up, “You’re a genius, Mr. Winchester.”

Mister?! How old do they think he is? Well, granted, he probably shot that movie before those kids were even born. Talk about feeling old.

“Your disorientation factor is truly masterful,” the boy continues. “Claire told us we’d love it.”

His brow shoots up in surprise. “Claire? How do you know my kid?”

“Oh, we’re all in AV club together,” the boy replies and gestures to his peers before they filter out of the theater.

“Huh.” Dean is gobsmacked, truly. For one, he didn’t even know Claire was in AV club. And secondly, he’s goddamn proud of her. Who knew the kid would take after her old man?

“See?” Y/N pokes his arm with her elbow, a big grin adorning her face. “You have a whole fan club of teenagers who adore your movie that they are, for sure, too young to see.”

Dean chuckles softly and wishes he could hide his reddening cheeks from her.

“I liked your movie, too,” she says then and watches his reaction closely.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dean tries to brush her off. She’s probably just saying it to appeal to his ego. He knows she’s not the biggest fan of his work. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Y/N says enthusiastically. “Those kids were right. It was disorienting. You were doing your own thing.” But then she catches her mistake and corrects herself, “Are. Sorry! You still are doing–”

Dean, however, shakes his head at her correction. “Nope, you’re right,” he admits and scoffs. “That was me twenty years ago. My hands all over everything like the biggest control freak, driving everybody nuts. I mean, my operator actually became so frustrated with me that he quit the first day and threw his camera at me. I had to shoot the rest of it myself.”

“You shot that?” Y/N’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean sighs and pensively scratches his beard. Something’s been bothering him for a while now, and talking to Y/N usually helps him sort through his jumbled thoughts. After all, she’s his Alma. “You know, I’m accustomed to a certain level of failure. When a project usually goes wrong, I know exactly what happened. It’s just-… with our show… I have no idea what went wrong there. I don’t know why they shit-canned us. Not a fucking clue. None. It’s driving me insane.”

Y/N grows quiet next to him and fumbles with her fingers. She swallows deeply before she opens her mouth. “I have an idea. I know why,” she confesses.

The director’s brow furrows. As he looks at her, he recognizes her nervousness. It causes him to worry. “What d’you mean?”

“Richard Roman, the head of the network? He-, uhm, he invited me to dinner… at his hotel room,” Y/N begins, the uncomfortableness growing inside of her and expanding in her chest.

Dean, on the other hand, stays perfectly still and quiet. The calm before the storm, so to speak. Because as soon as she said those words, he could feel his heart stop and drop several feet into the depths of hell. There, he’s sure he’ll find some kind of weapon he can use to kill that motherfucker before he comes back topside. The director knows how that story ends before she has even finished it, and it makes him want to puke his guts out and burn this godforsaken city down.

“He came on to me. As in… he wanted to have sex with me,” Y/N continues and clarifies in case he didn’t catch on. She’s not entirely sure the director is getting the message since he hasn’t said a word yet. “But I left before anything could happen. Ran away, actually. Bolted right outta there.” Her little chuckle at the end is a futile attempt to lighten the mood.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Dean’s furious, his nostrils flaring. He wants to punch and kill someone, but most of all Dickhead Roman himself.

“No, I’m not,” Y/N replies meekly. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Bewildered, he frowns. “Mad?” That’s when he notices that she suddenly seems scared. Is she frightened… of him?!

“Maybe I can still fix it. Just call him and ask him if I can come by his office,” Y/N suggests, her voice laced with desperation. But not the good kind that usually turns him on. This time it’s just plain sad.

“To do what exactly?” Dean prompts grimly, already knowing her intentions. Over his dead body is she doing that!

“Well–”

“Fuck no!” Dean doesn’t even allow her to finish her sentence. In fact, he doesn’t want to hear it at all, or he might have to scratch his ears out afterward. God, he doesn’t even want to think about it. “You’re not fucking doing anything, alright?”

“But–”

“That stupid fucking son of a bitch,” Dean huffs and shakes his head. “What a goddamn prick!”

“So you’re not mad?” Y/N checks insecurely.

For a moment, Dean stops his rage to look at her, his heart almost breaking as he does. She deserves so much better in this life than all the shit she’s getting. How the fuck is any of this fair?

“At Dick cocksucking Roman, yeah. But not at you. Never at you, okay?” he emphasizes and sees her nod in relief. His heart shatters anew. How could she even think for a second he’d hold some sleazebag’s actions against her? But then his suspicions grow as he puzzles the pieces together. “When the fuck did this happen?”

“Uh, a little over a week ago,” Y/N answers quietly. “The night before they moved us to the nighttime slot.”

“That’s when you came to my office, and we–” Dean doesn’t finish his train of thought and cards a hand through his messy hair. Now, it makes sense. Her strange behavior, the inexplicable need for punishment, and everything in between.

‘You’re the best guy I know,’ he remembers her words. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more.’

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Was that why you were avoiding me?”

A part of him feels unbelievably relieved. It’s not him but literally someone else’s fault. For once, he’s done nothing wrong. For once, he hasn’t ruined everything. But another part of him, the bigger one, just wants to rip Dickbag Roman’s throat out with his goddamn teeth. What a pathetic fucking loser…

Dean wishes he could beat the guy black and blue and leave him bleeding on the highway till a truck runs over him. He wishes he could cut off that guy’s dick and put it through a meat grinder. His mind can’t stop imagining the most gruesome ways to make that asshat suffer and die. In fact, he wishes Manson was still roaming Spawn Ranch and would send his Family over to that Roman’s mansion and leave Sharon Tate the fuck alone.

“I’m sorry. I guess I was scared you’d react like Jo.” Y/N gulps and averts her eyes to her trembling hands in her lap.

His brow knits, Donna’s warning words echoing through his mind. “Jo knows? What did she say?” But before Y/N can answer him, the director stops her again. “No, wait… I can take a fucking guess,” he mutters bitterly. The blonde bimbo probably told her to blow the guy in his goddamn office. Typical…

“Well, she’s not entirely wrong, you know,” Y/N mumbles and bites down on her lip without looking at him.

“What d’you mean?”

“All I’m good for is a fuck,” she says with a wry smile and wipes away a small tear. Dean’s heart twinges and hurts for her, but that pain is nothing compared to the cool blade of a knife he feels soon instead. “I mean, you of all people know that…”

Dean’s quiet for a moment and bites his nails as he ponders. His mind is a maze, and he knows he has to pick and choose his words carefully in order to get out of it.

“No, I actually don’t know that,” he states and catches her attention.

He tries his best not to sound angry or offended, even though he is a little. Hasn’t he been building her confidence for weeks now? Hasn’t he been instilling in her that she’s his favorite – and not just among the cast but on this planet in general? He figured she knew how much she truly means to him, but maybe he hasn’t been clear enough yet. He knows Y/N’s self-worth issues could fill every damn swimming pool in California, so maybe he shouldn’t expect a miracle so soon.

Mostly, he’s angry at Dicksuck Roman and Barbie for ruining all his hard work with one asshole move and a few bitchy words.

Dean wets his lips and lets out a sharp exhale through his nose before he looks at her. “Y/N, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’re never just a quickie in the office to me. Do you understand that?”

She nods in slow reluctance. “I think so.”

“Good,” he says sternly. “Now believe it ‘cause it’s true.”

The green-eyed director cups her cheeks and pulls her to his lips, tongue meeting tongue in a searing kiss. The old seats creak when their weight shifts, Y/N leaning into his touch as she wrings for oxygen with heavy breaths. And where words fail, he tries his best to show her how he feels through his actions.

“Sorry,” Dean apologizes cheekily once he lets her get some air. “Couldn’t hold myself back any longer. That’s okay, right? We’re still on?”

Suddenly, it dawns on him that she might’ve still changed her mind about him. Has he just sexually harassed a woman right after she told him how she’s been sexually harassed by a superior? Jesus fucking Christ, he’s goddamn tone deaf, isn’t he?

To his luck, though, Y/N finds his stupidity amusing and giggles, placing another sweet kiss on his plump lips as she shakes her head. “We’re still on, boss,” she assures him and hears him heave a big sigh of relief.

“Awesome.” He grins from ear to ear and brushes a strand of rogue hair out of her face. “Are you and Jo okay? ‘Cause if you’re not, you gotta tell me. You wanna postpone the match?”

Now that Dean knows there’s no chance in hell the network’s going to let the show survive, he doesn’t even give a shit if the girls resort to doing the chicken dance in the ring or taking a dump on stage. No one truly gives a fuck anymore, least of all him. He never has.

The only thing he cares about is sitting right next to him.

Y/N, however, vehemently shakes her head. “No, we’re fine. I wanna fight. ‘Sides, I’m supposed to win this match, and I can’t wait to kick Jo’s bitchy ass.” She grins broadly.

“That’s my bad girl.” Dean smirks and pecks her lips. “You’re gonna stay over at my place tonight? Play a little Cold War in my bedroom?”

“Only if I can do my accent,” Y/N says, beaming.

The director playfully rolls his green eyes, even though he’s direly been waiting for that sort of role play. “Oh, you’ve got yourself a deal, Natasha.”

22. Girls, Girls, Girls – April 20

Hope you enjoyed this one! We came back with a literal bang 😂 Next up we deal with more drama and a hospital stay 👀

Don't forget I re-did the tag lists after the break, so pick your new place (everything, specific character, or series) and put your username in there ❤️

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33

Old Series Tags (only for this part): @jessjad @mrsjenniferwinchester @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @yeahmynameiscool06 @luci-wiggles @darkened-writer @mimaria420 @samanddeansannoyingsis @sarasolros

#plastic hearts #dean winchester #director!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x female reader #actress!reader #dean winchester au #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #director!dean winchester x actress!reader #glow au #supernatural au #supernatural fanfic #supernatural

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