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useless-bi-otch · 10 months

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Cookies'n Cream - Chapter 27

Last chapter / MasterList / art by @aneenasevla

Chapter 27 - Queens and Clowns

Note:��This chapter contains scenes only suitable for 18+ audiences (A.K.A. smut). You’ve been warned

Now that he and Tomori were together and knew each other a lot better, Okubo wondered how he hadn't noticed the signs before.

They've always been there, right under his nose. She had warned him about them herself, and he had chosen to ignore it long enough to be vulnerable. And now, he was in that situation, trapped between a rock and a hard place because of a promise.

All because she, in addition to being cute and sweet, was calculating, slightly manipulative and fully aware of the effects she had on him. If he had noticed these signs sooner, he would have set boundaries from the start. But now it was too late, and he was...

"... Wrapped around her little finger."

"Being held by the balls."

“Lassoed and ridden like the bald bull you are."

"You're good at thinking of synonyms, but not at helping me think of a way out, aren't you, you bastards?!," Okubo grunts, taking an angry bite of his pizza slice while watching Rihito, Himuro and Kaneda being complete assholes to each other during the most violent Mario Kart competition he had ever watched in his entire life. "I'm serious , that girl put me behind the eight ball!"

"Sorry to say that, Okubo, but you're the one who got yourself into this," Kaneda comments, ignoring the curse Rihito shouted in his ear when he throw him off the track with a red shell. "You shouldn’t have agreed to go out with her when you had a bruise too obvious to go unnoticed."

"Or you should've lied and said that it was one of us who did that to you during a sparring session- Rihito, you son of a bitch!," Himuro yells when Rihito throws a banana peel in front of him on the track and makes him spin. Rihito laughs out loud.

"Suck on that banana, you man-whore! And yeah, man, you should've said that. It was a lie, but it was for the greater good, right?"

"I thought about doing that, but I couldn't!," He gestures frustrated. "I don't know what's with her eyes, but I'm totally incapable of lying when I look into them! It's a mix between Puss in Boots from Shrek and a human version of Hello Kitty with the softest, most good smelling boobs in the world! It was a lost battle from the start..."

"You couldn't even put your foot down? Like, saying you won't take her to see a Kengan match and that's it, no more whining?," Himuro asks, grinding his teeth while trying to pass by Rihito without being hit by the green shells that surrounded him. Okubo shakes his head, shoving the rest of the pizza into his mouth at once.

“I wanted to do that, but I just couldn't. She was naked at the time, just out of the shower, all wet and smelling good," He can't hold back, smiling when he remembers, still chewing. "With her asking like that, there's no grown man who can resist."

"Holy shit, dude… now I understand why you took so long to fuck her."

"What do you mean?"

"You knew that your brain cells were all stored in your balls and that she would empty them without thinking twice."

"Fuck you, Rihito!"

"Too late, I'm doing just fine! Yes!," Rihito raises the joy-con in the air in celebration as he manages to pass Kaneda on the last corner and cross the finish line first. Kaneda moans, throwing his head back, while Himuro throws a small tantrum and throws the other joy-con onto a cushion. Good thing, because Okubo would beat his ass if he broke even one piece of his Nintendo Switch. "Gentlemen, I'm fuckin' unbeatable!"

"No way, this is just the first championship you've won tonight," Himuro snorts with a frown. "You were ahead of Kaneda by a measly four points."

"Which I intend to keep in the future. Now, go eat a pizza slice with Egghead, I have a lil' fucker to beat," Rihito dismisses him with hand gestures, to which Himuro gives him the middle finger before leaving the joy-con aside and walking away, sulking.

"Asshole... get his ass for me, Kaneda."

"Haha, I'll do my best. Anyway, Okubo...," Kaneda turned to Okubo while Rihito adjusted the game's settings. "Now that you promised her, there's no going back. Breaking the promise could be worse for you."

"I know…," Okubo scratches the back of his head, tired. "I wouldn't do that to her anyway. She's been honest with me, the least I can do is reciprocate."

"Yeah, but at what cost?," Himuro says while grabbing a pizza slice inside the box on the kitchen counter. "We already talked about the risks, remember?"

"I do...

"And you're still going to go ahead with that idea?"

"It's not because I want to, Himuro," He retorts angrily. "Don't you guys understand? She didn't give me a choice. It almost looks like an ultimatum," He sighs. "If I keep more things from her, she'll think I'm not being honest enough and conclude that it's not worth investing in our relationship. It's that thing about giving too much and getting too little in return... and I want to give as much as I get."

"Holy shit, that came out so wrong, hahaha!"

"Shut up, Rihito, I'm serious!"

"Okay, okay, you want to be serious, right? So let's be serious," Rihito forces himself to stop laughing, looking seriously at him while Kaneda chooses a cup. "You don't want her to know about the Kengan Association because it might be risky for her or is there more to it?"

Okubo immediately gets uncomfortable. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, you're focusing too much on something that can be easily solved," Rihito shrugs. "If your concern is with her safety, that's fine. She'll have you and us, if you're the one fighting, to protect her."

"Wow... would y'all really do that?"

"Of course. We like her too," Kaneda guarantees with a nod. "Not just because she's your girlfriend who isn't quite your girlfriend."

"Yeah. She's just a nice girl," Himuro shrugs.

"Yep! She's crazy and a little sarcastic and judgemental, but still cute," Rihito agrees. Okubo sniffs a little.

“Gee, guys… you really-”

"Not to mention that if I play bodyguard, she'll owe me one! Then I can ask for her friend's number as a payment without feeling guilty about it."

"Holy shit, you're the most self-serving jerks I've ever met in my entire fucking life," Okubo runs a hand over his face, grunting. "Okay, I'm glad you guys want to do this for her too. But continue your reasoning, Rihito."

"Alright," Rihito and Kaneda turned their attention to the match again, but the former kept talking. "If that was your only concern, you'd already know that it is very easy to solve. But there's more to it, right? Because when you mix Miss Uta and you, there's always something more. I've got your number..."

"Unf. Aren't you an observant motherfucker..."

"You're just that obvious, bro."

"Indeed," Kaneda and Himuro nod together, and Okubo glares at them indignantly.

"And you still agree with him! Ugh... okay, it's not just that," He finally admits. "It also has to do with moral issues."

"Moral issues?"

"Yeah, like... you're aware of how she's an avid martial arts fan, right? She's always watching the fights in the major leagues, even the lesser known ones," He takes another pizza slice from the box, eating it with a frown. "Only all those leagues are public, safe and full of rules. I don't know what she'd think of an underground league, let alone one like the one the Kengan Association maintains..."

"Look, I think she already guessed that you're involved with underground fighting, considering how you kept hammering this 'backstage league' thing," Himuro forms quotation marks with his fingers, to which Okubo shakes his head.

“But she doesn't know the full extent of the whole thing. It's something much more serious than a bunch of alley jesters getting together to beat each other to a pulp without much safety involved," He finishes chewing and swallowing, burping afterwards and continuing, "Rock bottom always has a basement. And I... I don't know, I'm worried that she might think this is wrong."

"But that's the thing, man… from a legal point of view, it's wrong ," Himuro arches an eyebrow, to which he snorts.

"Wrong to the point that she thinks our relationship isn't worth the effort! That she doesn't want anything to do with a guy who gets involved with that stuff. And the whole thing is very violent, much more than what she's used to seeing on television..."

"Oh... you're thinking she's one of those purist fans then... Damn it!," Rihito curses when a blue shell hits him, allowing Kaneda to pass him. "There'll be payback, mark my words!"

"I'm going to leave my change purse ready, haha ," Kaneda jokes.

“Either that or she became more adept at the concepts of right and wrong after she got over her delinquent phase,” Okubo muses, and Himuro frowns at him.

"Delinquent phase? What, just because of that tattoo?"

"No, she was absolutely deranged during her teens, according to herself. She almost got expelled from school once," He says, eyes wide; the fact still amazed him a little. Rihito lets out a mocking laugh.

"Give me a break! The tattoo thing I can believe in, but this?"

"If you're doubting it, ask her the next time you see each other. Anyway...," Okubo shakes his head. "She doesn't deny her past, but today she tries to distance herself from it. And if she concludes that I'm not following the same path, that the Kengan Association goes against the kind of life she's been trying to maintain... ugh, I don't know," He scratches his whole face with his hands, eyes squeezed shut. "I just don't want her to give up on us because of this!"

"Does that make you rethink your participation in the Kengan matches as a whole?," Kaneda asks, and Okubo needs to think a bit before answering.

"No… I mean, I'm just like you guys, I enjoy fighting without all the rules of the public leagues. Ultimate Fight has hardly offered me more challenges, I'm already at a much higher level-"

"If your ego inflates more, it'll replace your car's airbags."

"And the Kengan Association provides me with that," He continues, ignoring Rihito's comment. "I don't care about the businessmen's shenanigans, as long as I can fight strong guys. It's the same with you. I'm just worried that she won't accept it..."

There is a brief moment of silence while Himuro thinks and Kaneda and Rihito slaughter each other on screen. Himuro then asks the question he honestly didn't want any of them to ask.

"If she doesn't accept it, will you consider this a thing that's doomed to fail? If neither you nor she are willing to compromise..."

Okubo sighs heavily.

"I don't know, man. I don't want it at all. But if things get to that point..."

"If it gets to that point and you see that you are at an impasse, it means that she's not the right girl for you. It's that simple," Kaneda says. "And there's nothing wrong with that. Sometimes people just don't work together and it's no one's fault but circumstances'."

"I know. But it's been a while since I wanted something to work so much in my life," Okubo admits, a little embarrassed, but unable to contain himself. "You can say I sound like a sappy fagot and shit, but I don't think I'll find anyone like her anytime soon. And I don't want to. I just didn't want to have to give up one thing to have the other. It's so fucking unfair"!

"Maybe you don't have to!," Rihito says, leaning to the side when making a sharp turn. "If she really was that deranged like you're saying, maybe she won't think it's that wrong. Who knows, maybe she even likes it," He suddenly gives a mischievous laugh. "Maybe she'll get all excited with your performance in a match and wants to try some moves with you on the mattress, hehehe..."

"Rihito, what are you saying..."

“No, Iron Fingers might be right. This is an outright muscle eater we're talking about," Himuro says to Kaneda. "Like, I don't think she would like to see Okubo killing someone in the middle of a match-"

"I don't even intend to! I almost killed my first opponent in Ultimate Fight and I'm traumatized to this day...," Okubo shivers. Himuro nods.

"See? She wouldn't like it, but a fair, violent, bloody fight is something else. Some girls really get turned on with this stuff. If that's Miss Uta's case..."

Okubo blinks. And then he opens a huge stupid smile, even blushing a little.

"Jeez, gigolo, you really think so? Because man, if I win a Kengan match and it gets my Tomoh all horny for me, I'll be more than happy to crush other people's faces!"

"Fucking simp!"

"Fuck off, Rihito," He snorts while Himuro and Kaneda laugh. "The day you feel the softness of the right titties, I'm the one who's going to be laughing."

"Look, I don't know if they were the right ones, but I sure felt the softness of several titties a few days ago," Rihito opens the very same stupid smile. "There's no best way to celebrate Komada's first victory in months, dammit. .."

"Oh yeah, you went to celebrate at Ms. Rino's club on the same day as Okubo's Kengan match," Kaneda comments, and Rihito nods, his chest puffed out.

"We sure as hell did! The girls were so sweet with us. First time I went to celebrate with Komada and Ivan too, since my official brothel bro gave up on that life," He mutters in a sullen tone, to which Okubo smiles in the corner.

“Sorry for that, man. I liked the Golden Pleasure Club as much as you, but I wouldn't trade what I have now for anything."

"I know, bro. 'We're happy for you, you know that," Rihito nods. "And it's because we know how important this is to you that we're telling you not to expect the worst. Your chick is a martial arts lover. She's the type who knows that, sometimes, men only understand each other through violence," He laughs. "Just tell it like it is. If she knows you like she says she does, she won't be on your case."

Okubo smiles wider, his chest lightening considerably. He scratches the back of his head.

"Yeah, you're right. Thanks..."

"Yeah, you're so right I'm almost wondering if you're really Rihito," Himuro arches an eyebrow, to which Kaneda chuckles.

"Don't they say that even a broken clock is right twice a day? Well…"

"Why don't you go screw yourselves? Fuckin' bastards," Rihito grumbles, ignoring the laughter of the others. "You shouldn't even be surprised, I've been on a winning streak like no other lately. It's one win after the other!"

"You say that, but you're still behind me on that last lap..."

"Not for long. Go boomerang!," He screams, and laughs loudly when said boomerang hits Yoshi right in front of him. Kaneda lets out an indignant exclamation.

"Aaah! I could accept it if it was a shell, but a boomerang? It's too humiliating!"

"People do what they can with what they have, man! Hell yeah!," He celebrates when he crosses the finish line in first place, even getting up from the mat to do a little victory dance. "Another glorious victory for me, dammit! The other pizza is all mine!"

"Shit…," Himuro grunts, rolling his eyes while Kaneda scratches his headr tiredly. "Now we're going to have to put up with this bullshit… can I go smoke on your balcony, Okubo? I'll close the glass door so the smoke doesn't get in, I just need to put nicotine into my system to withstand this..."

“Sure, man, go kill your heartache with some cancerogenous smoke,” Okubo jokes as Rihito does a victory dance in the middle of the room. Kaneda sighs and puts down the joy-con as Himuro marches to the apartment's balcony, looking pissed, ignoring Rihito's mocking laughter as best he can.

"Who said Superman's winning streak would be short-lived, huh? I'm kicking some major ass!"

"Yeah, just be careful not to fuck it up to the point of fucking your business," Okubo hands him another pizza box, still unopened. "Yamashita is sending you messages about your employees’ licenses issues. Better get that outta the way before it comes back to bite you in the ass, man."

Rihito moans loudly, throwing his head back.

"Damn, I hate these bureaucracies."

"It's annoying, but necessary, since you're a CEO as well as a fighter," Kaneda comments while turning off the Switch. "The sooner you deal with this, the better."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop by his office on Friday and sort this thing out, I promise," Rihito nods before turning to Okubo. "And you! You better solve this mess with Miss Uta sooner than later too. We can't wait for this soap opera to end and for us to reap the fruits of it."

"Bro, I swear to God, if you talk about her friend's phone number one more time...!"

"Nah, this time I'll be quiet. Unless, of course, you mention to her that we were the ones who pushed you in the right direction, and if she wants to thank us by being generous..."

Kaneda ends up laughing, and even Himuro, from the balcony, lets out a low, husky chuckle. Okubo just rolls his eyes, but he does so while trying to hold a smile back.

He was already kind of indebted to his friends for everything they had done to help him sort things out with Tomori, Rihito in particular. If everything worked out between them and she accepted this unconventional aspect of his life, why not bring the subject up? At least Rihito would stop pestering them like that. And he would pay off his debt.

"I hope your friend likes inconvenient idiots as much as you do, Tomoh..."

* * *

"So, what do you think?," Okubo asks while closing the door behind him, his tone a bit playful to disguise his shyness. "Is it as you imagined or did the typical masculine carelessness exceed your expectations?"

"What exceeded my expectations was the size. Holy crap...," Tomori comments, sounding impressed, as she walks around the living room of his apartment, even walking backwards so she can contemplate the place as a whole. "So this is how the luxury apartments in Tokyo's upscale area are from the inside!

"Eh, there are much more luxurious buildings around here, to be honest. For a guy who lives alone, this is enough," He decrees, hands on hips, to which she smiles a little mockingly at him.

"A guy who lives alone and has lotta cash in the bank, right?"

"Hey, I'm no saudi prince, but I deserve to have some luxuries with the money I earn working, right?," He shrugs, taking it in stride. "You could also have some if you let me spend a little on you..."

"Nah-ah-ah! You can stop right there," She raises the palm of her right hand to him like a traffic cop. "I'm getting enough luxuries just to be able to spend one night here with you. You sure there's no problem?"

"None! I cleaned the whole place to be worthy of your presence," He jokes, going to her and hugging her around the waist. "I even went to the market and stocked the fridge, all with your teachings in mind. We'll be able to watch Seki's fight in style!"

"Really? Such consideration!," She returns the hug, smiling at him. "Unless, of course, this is a very well thought out scheme to make me cook."

"Would you rather eat food made by me then? The guy who couldn't even get the shape of rice balls right before you showed him how?"

"I would help you! It would be a nice thing for us to do together."

"I'm up for it, but right now I'm thinking of something else for us to do together...," He bends down to reach her, exchanging a peck with her before going to kiss and nibble her neck, to which she laughs and shivers with the tickling.

"Wow, I really spoiled you, didn't I? Leave it for tonight, after Mr. Seki's match," She murmurs against his mouth, after giving him a longer kiss. "Then the gratuitous violence on television will have put me in the perfect mood."

"You're such a weirdo, Tomoh."

"Pot, meet kettle. I've got your number, mr. 'I-Get-Sad-And-Pouty-When-The-Woman-I-Like-Doesn't-Let-Me-Spend-Stacks-Of-Money-On-Her'."

"That just makes you even weirder," He smiles more, lifting her off the ground and making her scream. "And it makes me like you more and more..."

He kisses her again, and even though she starts slapping his shoulders, she doesn't protest in the slightest. On the contrary, she manages to encircle his waist with her legs, and Okubo concludes that it would be very easy to take her to the bedroom (or to the sofa, in case they concluded that the distance between the bedroom and the living room was too great) and get busy with her. The could leave the tour on the whole apartment for after they've satisfied themselves. They would have all day, after all.

It was so good to have fallen in love with a woman who seemed to have the same sex drive as him, or at least enough that neither of them ended up frustrated. Another of the many things they had in common, and he couldn't get enough of discovering more and more of them every time they were together.

It was what made him not want to believe what Kaneda had said a few days ago. That speech about her not being the right girl for him, in case their opinions regarding his participation in an association that promoted underground fights were very discordant. Where else would he find someone as amazing as her? Someone he was so in tune with? Where else would he find that warmth, that joy, that feeling that everything in the world was in the right place when he was with her?

He didn't want to give that up if he could help it. He wanted to get those doubts out of the way so he could commit to her, and not hide anything else. The opportunity had arisen when Sekibayashi Jun's next performance had been announced to be broadcast on a pay-per-view channel, and Okubo had offered his own television, with the combat channels already included in its premium subscription package, to Tomori, so that she herself would not have to pay.

"Is everything all right for you, Naoh?," She had asked, surprised and a little hesitant, after he had made the offer during their date a few days before. He had nodded with a laidback smile. "It won't be any trouble?"

"Of course not! Why would having you at my place would be trouble?"

"No, that's not it. It's just that... now I know that you get a little jealous of seeing me kissing up to other fighters, so I don't want to push your goodwill..."

She had looked embarrassed, and Okubo had felt bad for making her think he was the kind of possessive idiot who was jealous of even the celebrities his girlfriend admired. He reached across the table where they were both eating, in a small pub.

"You won't, I promise. I'd never ask you to put aside your love for martial arts because of my insecurities, Tomori. It's that dedication that makes you who you are, and I'll never want to change that."

She had smiled when he had touched her face, lifting her fingers to touch his hand as well.

"Great. Thank you..."

"And there's no reason for me to be jealous of that old man Sekibayashi, who's more like a grandpa on a national scale than anything else, haha!"

"He's not even ten years older than you, so your national grandpa status shouldn't be more than a decade away either."

"Hey, hey, how long are you going to make fun of my age? That says more about you than me, you old man lover!"

She had laughed out loud, holding his hand up to her face and turning her head to the side to plant a kiss in the palm.

"I'm not an old man lover! I only like one in particular..."

He would have kissed her right there if the place had been more suitable. And now that they were there, in his apartment, away from judgmental eyes and safe behind all those walls, he just couldn't and didn't want to stop.

If being completely honest with her had been easier and potentially less painful, he already would have been. He would have taken her to watch a Kengan match live, even. But the fear of losing all that was still too much, so he preferred to test the waters before being more open. A good start would be to give her a fun day, back at his apartment, which she's been wanting to visit for a while. Combining business with pleasure, that's what they called it.

“And if I can tame the beast with some sexy times, even better!”

The thought makes him deepen the kiss, whereupon she moans softly against his mouth and grips his shoulders through the top of his shirt.

"Hnnn... man, you really don't waste time..."

"I'm no broken clock to waste time. I like to get straight to the point, you know..."

"I know that well now. But I still want to see the rest of your apartment, you know."

"Oh, we can take a tour right now," He suggests, pulling his lips away from hers just enough to be able to speak. "Starting with my room…"

"Oooh, that's right. Your room," Her eyes suddenly narrow. "It's the place I'm most curious to see, to be honest."

He smiles, all mischievous. "Heh, I can imagine why. I assure you, my bed is almost as big as the one in that love hotel's room-"

“I still haven't got even for that day."

Okubo's smile dies a little, giving way to bewilderment.

"Even...?"

"Yup. Put me down, please," She asks, and he, even more confused, obliges. She marches into the hallway, as Okubo follows. What the hell was she...?

His question is answered when she reaches a door at the end of the hall. She turns to him, arching an eyebrow.

"Is this your room?"

"Uh… yes, it is," He nods, his brow furrowed. "Why? What are you...?"

And instead of answering, she simply reaches out and grabs the doorknob, turning it and opening the door. Okubo can only stare, speechless, as she looks over her shoulder at him, gives him a petulant look as if daring him to protest, and enters the room without even asking permission.

Shit, he didn't know whether to be indignant or have a fit of laughter. He opts for a middle ground, chuckling softly as he rolls his eyes.

"Okay, I deserved that."

And he enters the room right behind her.

He watches her, from the doorway, walk around the room while inspecting everything with interest. He chuckles again when she places a hand over her chin, frowning.

"Disappointed?"

"Not at all. Your bed is really big, wow...," She comments, sitting on the huge mattress, and he smiles more.

"Now you can see why I want to get you there so badly. Just imagine how comfortable it is...," He pats one of the pillows, very pleased to demonstrate its softness. In general, his room was a bit plain, with the king size bed custom-made for him, the dressers flanking it, the closet and the bathroom with a huge bathtub that completed the suite. More personal things that denoted more of his personality and tastes were in his game and reading rooms, but banging her in those places wouldn't be nearly as comfortable as here. "And there's even a view of the city lights at night!"

He indicates the large window in the wall beside the bed, which gave them a view of the surrounding apartment complexes. Tomori smiles, lying on her side on the bed.

"Yeah, it must be very romantic..."

"That's because you haven't seen my lighting system yet! Check it out..."

He rushes to draw the curtains around the window, plunging the room into a soft gloom. And then he claps his hands twice, while throwing a mysterious smile at her.

"Open Sesame!"

Tomori lets out a sound that was a mix of laughter and excited gasp as soft lights come on behind the headboard and at strategic points on the ceiling, around the main source of light, giving the room a cozy atmosphere. She claps her hands as well as she sits back on the mattress.

"Beautiful! I'm going to love sleeping here tonight."

"Thank you, thank you very much," He gives a playful bow. "But you sure won't love it as much as I will!"

"We'll see about that... but look, Naoh, the correct phrase would be 'let there be light', right? ‘Open Sesame’ is for opening things, not turning on lights, haha.

"… If I say that what I wanted was to 'open your legs', will I be able to get away with being made fun of without sounding like a complete asshole?"

She laughs out loud, opening her arms to him.

"No, you won't. Now come here and kiss me before I change my mind and hit you."

And he goes, flushed but still as happy as he can be, climbing onto the bed and holding her close as he complies with her request with an excitement that has her giggling against his mouth. Soon they were lying on the bed, he propping himself up on his elbows so he wouldn't put too much weight on her, her hands touching his back over his shirt as her legs lifted, her feet brushing the sides of his hips.

“Hnnn… I kinda made a miscalculation,” she murmurs after they've both pulled back just enough to catch their breath. Okubo blinks.

"Miscalculation...?"

"Yeah. I should've explored the other rooms in your apartment before I decided to be petty and go into your room. I can see that we won't be able to get out of here anytime soon, haha..."

"And you think you won't have another opportunity to see everything?," He looks at her with a malicious smile. "Or to spend the night here more often?"

She smiles back, practically melting under him at those words.

"Now that I've heard it, I don't think so anymore."

And she then brings him for another kiss, already starting to try to take his shirt off by the hem. She loved to joke about how he was in a hurry, but he sure as hell wasn't the only one there who wasted no time...

He loved it when she didn't stall and showed ho much she wanted him. Promptly, Okubo removed the shirt she held by the hem, letting her help him, and promptly letting her caress his ego with her eyes. And her brown eyes, practically devouring him, made him feel like he was on fire.

"I really don't know how you can think you're ugly," She purrs, those avid eyes seeming to burn. "I think you're really hot, I always have…"

"I don't think men are hot, that must be why," he jokes back. "But you…," he kisses her neck, lifting her blouse.

She raises her arms to make his job easier, and soon, her breasts supported by her pale blue bra are visible to him in all their glory.

"I never get tired of hearing that, you know?," She murmurs, her tone desirous. "I used to get frustrated, thinking that you only thought I was cute. But now that I know you think I'm hot too... wow, that drives me crazy...," And she lifts her hips a little to rub herself between his legs, through the fabric of her skirt.

“Always and always,"” He pulls her bra over it this time, so as not to confuse where the clasp is, and he immediately buries his face between her breasts, purring contentedly with her softness, warmth, and scent. She giggled as she shivered at his breath on her skin.

"Your favorite pillow, right? Oooh...," She gasps softly with his kisses there in the middle. "Naoh..."

"More than that…," he laughs softly. "It’s closer to the heart of the one I love…"

The smile fades as her mouth opens in an O of astonishment, her brown eyes widening. He could see a very distinctive glow forming at the bottom of them, her cheeks staining with that shade of pink he loved.

"... Huh? Naoya, you...," She swallows hard, and when she speaks again; her voice seems almost choked. "It's- It's the first time you say that..."

He looks at her, big gray eyes peeking out between her breasts. "Hmm? Say what?"

"... You're really going to make me say it, aren't you?," She closes her mouth when her lower lip trembles a little. "It's the first time that you say you love me."

... Oh, fuck. Loudmouth was the perfect nickname for him, wasn't it?

He feels his face burning, his eyes widening, his stomach doing somersaults worthy of an acrobat. Holy shit, he had planned so much, rehearsed so many times in front of the mirror, had fantasized so much about the best ways to confess to her! But he had to blurt it out like that, on the spur of the moment!

“Well, there's nothing you can do about that now, dumbass! Just go with the flow and clear your doubts while you’re at it!"

"Oh..." he babbles, his face red. "Yeah… I said that. Do you like it?"

"… I do," She nods after hesitating, looking at him with an affection so intense it takes his breath away. "Because I feel the same way. I... I love you too, mountain. Uugh, you…!," She hides her face in her hands, as red as he is. "Making me act all sappy when I want to be naughty…!"

He blinks in astonishment, suddenly feeling all warm inside, smiling like an idiot, but not in a perverted way. It was almost as if his eyes had doubled in size, his breath hitching for a minute.

“Damn it, she loves me too!,” was all that ran through his head, like a wonderful movie that he would never get tired of replaying, over and over, until the idea sank in. He looks deep into her eyes, and in her flushed face, he sees no reason to doubt her words.

“She loves me too...”

Then his smile turns into something naughty. "And can't we be both? Here, I'll show you," he kisses her on the neck. "My beautiful, gorgeous, delicious brunette who fills me with hunger…!," and grunts against her skin between kisses. "Raaaawn!"

She squeals and laughs out loud, bucking all over beneath him, tears appearing in the corners of her eyes. He couldn't tell if they were from laughter, from happiness or both. All he knew was that she looked even more beautiful that way, damn it!

"Hahahaha! That's a low blohohohow...! My god...," She goes completely limp, throwing her head back, the smile seeming about to tear her face. "I'm so happy, I want you so much..."

"I want you too...," He lifts her skirt, kissing down to arouse her, and massaging her legs in the process, even kissing the inside of one of them to make her shiver with the proximity. And he succeeds, making her shudder all over as she bites her bottom lip.

"Hnnn… you really like kissing me there, don't you? Ever since that time at the love hotel..."

"A fruit like that is something I'll always want to eat," he surprises her by going straight to the middle of her legs, over her panties, biting the fabric. She arches her back into the bed, letting out a loud sound of astonishment and pleasure as she wraps her legs around his head automatically, making his face practically rub against it. Holy shit, that was a leg lock capable of knocking any motherfucker down, no matter how big he was!

"Aaaah...! Yeah, right there...," She support her hands on his head, her nails passing through his scalp, scratching lightly. He only gets a little space to run a finger and push aside her panties and kiss her, right there in the middle. And he opens her lips with his tongue to reach a very important part.

Her moan echoes in the room, her legs opening wider and letting him breathe as well as giving him more room to work. He sees her lift her head, staring at him from between her breasts rising and falling with her breath, her eyes almost black.

"Yes, I love your tongue, I love you, I- oooh, yes, yes...!," She closes her teary eyes tightly with his licks. If he wanted romance amongst the naughtiness, that's what he was going to get. He smiles and kisses her more languidly, loving the sounds she was making, squeezing her buttocks in his hands, lifting her a little higher to explore new areas.

Her toes twitch as she bites her mouth, hands cupping her breasts, her fingers playing with her own nipples. She thanked every deity that might exist that he learned so quickly, that tongue was devilish in every sense of the word. But the damn panties getting in the way were so annoying... she reaches out to cup his face, making him stop.

"Naoh, I wanna try something…"

He stops, looking at her and licking his lips. "What?"

She pulls away just enough so that she can take off her panties, dropping them on the bedroom floor. And then she pats the mattress with her hand, right beside her.

"Lie down for me, please…"

Okubo complies, smirking, curious as to what she's going to do. She notices that he was already quite excited under his pants. If he was like this with just tasting her… She really hoped he was only going to get even more excited about what she was going to do from then on. She smiles, climbing on top of him and kissing him, tasting herself on his tongue before stopping. And then she climbs higher, lifting her hips, until she's right on top of his face, her legs straddled and braced on either side of his head, her breathing faster with the urge.

“Wow, I've always wanted to try this… wanna try it too?"

He smiles. "Wow, if you always wanted to, then it's my dream," he pulls her to literally sit on his face, and sighs. "Nnnnh, thanks, ahahhah," and he laughs before kissing her again.

She can barely laugh along, already moaning with satisfaction and bracing her hands on the headboard for support, moving her hips back and forth slowly, following the path of his tongue.

"Hnnnn, you're- you're welcome... ooh, yeah, you're doing so great... I taught you well, didn't I? Hnnnn...!"

"Being hot is your natural talent…," he says while savoring, supporting her buttocks with his arms so that she can move more comfortably. And she gladly does, squirming in his face and loving it, shivering and throwing her head back every time his tongue goes over her clit, moaning loudly because she knew how much he loved to hear it.

"Oooh...! Naoh, this feels so good... I-I'm almost there, don't stop...!"

And he wouldn't be crazy to do that. He even sucked at her noisily, massaging her legs even more, taking a lick to catch her honey, and punishing her clit with his tongue.

The "punishment" proves too much for her, and soon he's tasting her, pure and concentrated, on his tongue, accompanied by those familiar pulsations and her moan that was almost a scream, filling his ears like erotic music.

"AaaAAAAH! Naoooh...," She bends forward, her legs shaking on either side of his head. "My- My god, you're too good for me, hnnnn..."

This softened his ego so much that if someone made a roast beef out of him right now, it would be the juiciest of dishes. He gave her one last kiss before making her come down and sit on his lap so he could appreciate her face, her messy hair, her rosy cheeks, her shuddering breath. She finds his semi-smug face.

"I'm just what you deserve me to be, Tomoh..."

She even shudders at the husky tone of his voice, as well as the place where she was sitting. The bulge brushing between her sensitive parts…she shivers all over as she bends down to kiss him, not caring that his mouth was all sticky.

"Hnnn... oh yeah? So you deserve me to be very good to you too..."

And she bends down to kiss and lick his broad chest, as he had done to her. He laughs a little, feeling a little ticklish, but still lets her kiss him, holding onto her waist, biting his lip as he feels her sway on top of him. He wanted to remove the rest of her clothes, but he let her play with him a little more. Things shouldn't be rushed, not when he wanted to enjoy every second.

Soon her hands were on the waistband of his pants, and apparently she didn't have much patience for teasing that day, because she was soon opening the button and unzipping his pants, licking her lips as she did so.

“Hnnn… you got that way just from licking me?," She asks hoarsely, getting rid of his pants and holding his cock by the base.

"And seeing you, smelling you… I have to control myself, you know? Hnm," he sighs when she holds him and starts massaging him. "And now, with you touching me, there's no other way I can be…"

"I can see that... what if I do this?," She looks at him as she licks the tip, circling it with her tongue before closing her lips around it and sucking. "Hnnn…"

He trembles, biting his lip and hissing. "I think… oh… I don’t think I need to answer, right…? Ooh…," he holds her hair, in a ponytail on top of her head, so as not to disturb either her job or the view. She responds by lowering her mouth further, circling it with her tongue and then moving up while applying pressure. And from there she said nothing more, letting her actions speak for herself, eyes closed as she moved her head up and down, her mouth making smacking sounds. Her enjoying doing it so much was something he was never going to get tired of, holy shit.

"Tomori... hmmmm…," he murmurs. "Ooh… and you still talk about me… oohh… I'm loving this… hmmm… yeah, babe, just like that, oohm…"

She looks at him, not stopping what she was doing, but changing tactics a little by releasing him and closing her mouth around his cock, goingo up and down while holding him with one hand, the other resting on his thigh. That mischievous face, those eyes staring shamelessly into his... how could he ever think she was the epitome of innocence?

He had never been so happy to be wrong. Wolf in sheep's clothing, indeed. And what a wolf!

"Hnnn… I really do," She murmurs after releasing him to breathe. "Because I know you're as naughty as I am," And she keeps going back and forth with her tongue, from base to tip. He doesn't deny it, because it was the purest truth, and because that hot pressure rising prevented him from being very coherent.

"Uuhh… hnmmm… Tomoh… oh," he trembles. "I'm… hmm… I'm almost…"

She retraces all the way to the tip at that, closing her mouth around him again and sucking hard, massaging what she couldn't quite swallow with her fingers, her tongue punishing the slit, as he had done to her. He loved it when she got vindictive like that, damn it!

"Hmmm! Oohh… Tomo-ohhh!," he arches his back at his climax, trembling at the base, and upon feeling that he's locked, she quickly feels him spurt into her mouth, hot and plentiful. She sucked some more to clean it all up, enjoying his dazed face. She then lets go of him, taking a deep breath and licking her lips before going up, kissing his body all the way until she reaches his mouth, which she kisses even harder.

"Hnnn, I love the way you taste..."

He doesn't respond right away this time, just reciprocating, hugging her tightly, massaging her back, hips and buttocks happily, and then letting go of her mouth.

"Hnn... I can't find anything I don't love about you, Tomori."

She smiles, and this time, it was a tender, cheerful, adorable smile like only the ones she knew how to give. She gives him a peck and hugs him back, her head snuggled into his shoulder.

"If you think about it a little bit, you should find something, but I won't ask you to do that. Right now I can't think of anything I don't love about you too..."

He smiles, stroking her hair. It was so soft… he even closed his eyes in satisfaction, stretching out on the bed. He could feel himself light-headed, carefree…

"Naoh...," She calls out suddenly, her voice low, hesitant. "Did you… did you mean it when you said that earlier? It... wasn't it on the spur of the moment?"

"Hm?," he looks at her. "I decided to be honest with you, didn't I? So, yeah, I'm serious...," He didn't want to say how much he wasn't willing to let go of her at any moment; he still feared that it could be used against him, somehow. He loved her and that was undeniable, but holy shit, if that story about true love not making you blind wasn't true. She curls up in his arms, sighing.

“It's just that sometimes it feels too good to be true, you know. I don't know if you feel the same or if it's just me..."

"I have no idea how to compare it, Tomoh…," he sighs. "But I just know that I really care and I'm willing to prove it."

"… Then say it again," She asks, swallowing a little. "Please. Now that our heads are a little clearer..."

She sounded fragile, for some reason. As if she was afraid of something and wanted to be reassured, comforted…he didn't know what had caused it, or if for some reason she had trouble believing it. But if that was a trap...

“Is that what you expect from the woman you swear you love? Maybe you don't love her that much then. And you keeps accusing her of always jumping to the worst conclusions.”

Guilt makes him cringe too. And it's the desire to prove to his conscience how wrong it was that impels him to say what she wanted to hear, and honestly, what he's wanted to say for so long.

"I love you, Tomori," he smiles, and speaks a little louder. "I love you, Shortie."

She lets out a loud, pig-like snort and quickly covers her mouth to stifle her ridiculous laughter. He, on the other hand, laughs out loud without trying to hide it.

"What the fuck was that noise?!

"Shut- Shut up, leave me alone! You're the one who started with this 'shortie' thing..."

"Which is what you are!"

“Anyone is short next to you, you freakin' Ent..."

"If you knew half of my social circle, you wouldn't say that. Now it's your turn!"

"Me? Oooh, now I don't want to..."

"No, now I want to hear it from you too, Piglet!"

She slaps his chest, trying to look angry and failing. There's a brief moment of silence before she looks up at him, her cheeks flushed, a smile lifting the corners of her lips.

"I love you too, Naoya."

He kisses her, as if to reward her, but also tickles her just as a joke, trapping her. It works, considering how she giggles against his lips and squirms, trying to escape his arms but soon giving up.

"Uugh, you take advantage of me just because I'm a 'shortie'…," She whimpers after returning the kiss. "I'm glad I found ways to knock you down, haha."

"I want you to knock me down, that's why I tease you," He smiles mischievously. "How are you going to do it now?"

Her lids droop, her brown eyes darkening again. She lifts her head enough to brush her lips against his neck, tracing his Adam's apple with her tongue and slowly sucking the skin there as she wraps her legs around his waist.

"I'll do it with words," She murmurs in a hoarse tone. "Let me ride you like a bull, c'mon."

"Ooohh," he smiles at her, after shivering with her words. "So you want me to be your bull… hehe, I like that…," he holds her breasts. "But only if you let me move like one and give you trouble."

"Even better. I'm going to love to tame this bull," She bites her lower lip with his hands on her breasts, giving him a quick peck "Do you have a condom? I brought one in my purse, but it's in the living room and I'm too lazy to get out of bed and go get it, hahaha."

"Yeah, I do," he reaches out to get his pants, and from there he removes his wallet, handing it to her. "Right here!"

"Thank you very much. Now if you excuse me...," She kisses him, and with her hands on his shoulders, she encourages him to lie down again. She goes back to holding his cock by the base, stroking it with her hand in that up and down movement that made him a little dizzy. She even went back to licking and kissing the tip to make it easier, dammit... he couldn't stay put in bed after that. Or, just that specific part. The rest lay flat, while another grew larger.

"Ohh… I really can't get enough of this, Tomoh."

"I know, that's why I can't either," She gives him a wink before covering him up and getting up, positioning herself on top of him and biting her bottom lip as she made him brush against her, threatening to fit and not doing so, just to tease him. "Are you enjoying the view?"

"Yeah... it's the best view," he smiles, keeping his hands away from her, but placing them under the torso, his eyes narrowing with the near-contact. "I love when you tease me, I can't get enough…"

She lifts her hips just enough to position herself, and then she moans softly as she sits back down, shuddering at the warm, luscious feel of him slowly entering her. "Ooh, I can't get enough of that either…!"

He hisses low at the contact, but doesn't hold her legs this time. He starts to move his hips with her on top of him. "Now… hmm… it's your turn to ride the bull, he's moving..."

She gasps when he thrusts deeper into her like that, hitting a spot that made her nearly lose her balance. She leans her hands on the headboard again, moaning and trying to keep up with the movements of his hips as she lowers and raises hers, squeezing herself in the process so it feels even better for him.

"Oooh... Let's- Let's see about that... hnnn, Naoh...!"

"Hnmmm… Tomoo ohh…," he groans, moving his hips with her. "Hmm… I can feel you taking me all the way in, oohhh…," He looked at her, his eyes seeming to devour her, while he hissed and gasped with her grips and thrusts.

“And you're going so deep, I love it so much…” She gasps, her expression a little dazed, and he watches her breasts bounce as she rides him hard, sweat trickling down her skin, her full and wavy hair disheveled, wild. Hell, what had he done to deserve such a wonderful view? He didn't know but he was loving it and he wanted her wild like that whenever she wanted to ride him.

"Ohhh… Tomori…," he bites his lip, moving his hips harder. "Hnmmmm… that's so fuckin' good… but… I want to see you…," and he takes a hand to the middle of her legs, rubbing her clit with his thumb. "I wanna see you coming for me…"

"Aaaah! I- I will, I'm almost there, almost...! Na- NaooOOH!," And she collapses on top of him, shivering all over as she squeezed him hard in those rhythmic pulses, and it was so good that she was so much smaller than him, because it felt even better that way, holy shit...!

"Ooohhh… me- me too- hhnnNNNn!," he trembles as he collapses onto the mattress with her on top of him, instinctively holding her hips as he reaches his climax, panting heavily, even rolling his eyes back in delight. He hears, from somewhere in the distance, her breathless giggle. He feels her soft, warm, sweaty body lie over his, and soon, her lips are attacking his in a hungry kiss, her chest rising and falling quickly with his.

"Hnnn... there- there we go... a duly tamed bull..."

"Moooow!," he bellows playfully, laughing out loud along with her afterwards. She gives him one more kiss before lifting her hips, pulling him out of her, and pulling out the condom for him. And she even gives one more lick and a suck on the tip to emphasize, that miniature devil. He shudders and gasps, and she smirks at him.

"You clown... lucky for you that was so good..."

"You're invited to do it more often with me," he smiles, rolling over on the bed to face down. "Come on, let's see the bathroom and then we'll take a shower so we can watch Seki's match."

“If we fit in your bathtub together, I'm up for it. Carry me?," She asks, reaching her arms to him. "My legs are still wobbly, riding you demands a lot from me."

"Don't even ask twice," he picks her up and carries her, taking her to the bathroom. "hohoho, I'm carrying you like a princess! I love it."

"I'm the King of Combat's princess then?" I love it too," She giggles, resting her head on his chest and closing her eyes, smiling satisfied. "I accept the title with all the honors that come with it. Being carried is one of them."

"No, no, princesses are too cute for what you really are," He laughs. "If I'm the King, then you have to be the Queen."

She flushed with happiness, even swinging her legs as she hugged him back.

“Okay, a Queen, then. Your queen…”

He had to stop himself from bouncing with happiness as he carried her into the bathroom. He still wanted to retain a shred of goddamn dignity!

* * *

"Damn, Naoh… your bathtub is a dream come true!," Tomori sighs while she and Okubo leave the bathroom, steam following them through the door left open. He smiles as he closes it behind him.

"Did you like it?"

"I loved it! It was like walking into a private bath house where no one makes a fuss about my tattoo,” She smiles at him over her shoulder, finishing wrapping herself in the fluffy towel. His expression becomes insinuating.

"And where we won't be kicked out if we decide to play in there a little. All pros and no cons," He approaches and bends down, moving her wet hair away to smell the nape of her neck, making her shiver. "You can bathe in it whenever you want."

"Hnnn… and what is the fee?"

"Your cookies, your kisses... and whatever else you want to give me," And he takes a bite on her warm and fragrant skin, making her shudder and laugh, moving away from him by slapping his hand.

"You're very easy to please, aren't you?"

"Yeah, that's how lucky you are! Almost as much as I am..."

"Stop it, you...," She laughs and gasps when he grabs her by the hips, pulling her to smell and kiss her neck. "That way we'll end up in an endless sex-bath cycle, again and again..".

“You say it like it's a bad thing."

"It's not, but I really don't want to lose Mr. Seki's match. C'mon, don't make that face," She asks when he frowns. "I already told you that you have no reason to be jealous..."

"What? ... Oh no, that's not it," He shakes his head after a few seconds of confusion. "I was just remembering something and I got thoughtful..."

"Can I know what it is or is this another one of your secrets?"

"No…," He scratches the back of his head, looking to the side in sudden embarrassment. "I can talk about it, but it's just… it's kinda ridiculous, to be honest."

"Look, I think we've already reached the intimacy stage where ridiculous situations are part of the package," She argues. "We've moved on from there. I promise I won't make fun of it... too much."

He rolls his eyes, trying not to smile too much when she laughs.

"I would be worried about you if you didn't make fun of it. Anyway...," He shakes his head. "Remember that time when I was trying to win you back after my fuck-up? With the gifts and everything..."

She raises her eyebrows a little, nodding slowly.

"Kinda hard to forget. First the chocolate box, then half a flower shop's stock..."

"And you liked it, you can stop with the exasperated tone," He snorts. "But anyway, the chocolate and the flowers… they weren't the first gifts I bought for you. There's another one... and you can use one of them if you like. They're comfortable..."

"Huh?," She blinks, momentarily confused. And then her eyes widen a little when she understands. "Wait, you – you bought me clothes?"

“Uh… yes?," It was supposed to come out as a statement, but it came out more like a question, given the slight nervousness.

"In plural?"

"Yeaaaah...?"

"Aah… oh, Naoh…," She blushes a bit, scratching an arm. "I… oh, damn, I don't want to sound ungrateful, I swear I'm happy about it, but… how much did they cost?"

He frowns, a little sullen.

“Hey, hey, you don't ask the price of a gift given from the heart."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, I...," She ends up sighing. "Anyway, why didn't you give them to me before, in that case?"

"Well… I was going to, but the guys warned me that it might be… inappropriate," He gestures uncertainly. "Under the circumstances, at least."

She blinks again. And then her eyes widened even more, her checks blushing even harder, and this time it wasn't hard for Okubo to read her expression.

"It's not lingerie or anything like that!," he exclaims, alarmed, and she immediately relaxes, taking a deep breath in relief.

"Oooh, good… but what else would be considered inappropriate, in that case?," She asks, and it's his turn to blush. He wets his lips and turns to his closet.

"Yeah, I think you'd better see for yourself..."

He opens the door, allowing her a brief glimpse of the various shelves drawers, the hangers and the items of clothing they hold, the shoes, the baseball caps and various boxes containing sporting equipment before he closes the door behind him. He leaves about half a minute later, carrying a pile of T-shirts, looking a little mortified.

"Okay... first of all, promise you won't get mad at me?"

“I… I don't know if I can promise something like that, so I'll just promise I'll try,” She says after hesitating, to which he sighs.

"Fair enough... here, they're all the same size, so if they don't fit... oh no, the refund deadline has already expired, so it doesn't even matter," He sighs again, more dramatically, and Tomori just can't contain herself.

"Damn, now I'm more curious than worried! Let me see this..."

She picks up the top T-shirt from the pile and unfolds it. She is expressionless for about a second. Then her jaw drops.

"Oh, God..."

"Yeah…," he pouted. "I bought some shirts printed with my face from the store, because well, you're my fan, and I thought if I gave you some… but the guys said…," and he stopped, looking at her. "What's with that face, Tomoh?"

“… It's- It's just that I…,” She starts to say, not seeming to know how to continue. She turns the T-shirt over, checking the back of it and showing him his own face, in profile and smiling, stamped there in a scale of white and gray. She clenches her mouth, holding back a farting sound. "I… I kinda already have one of these, hahaha!"

"... Oh," he sighs. "Okay, I didn't see that coming. So does that mean you like it?"

"Of course!," She exclaims, clearly more relaxed, and that was a tremendous relief. "I mean, if you'd given me that back then, I would've found you very audacious," She admits, but without stopping smiling. "But now… damn, why I wouldn't like it? You gave me the entire collection!," She leaves the shirt aside and goes to inspect the others, excited. "Do you want me to wear one of them, then?"

"Well, they are kind of tailored for you, I think," he says, without much idea in his head. "I hope I got the size right and it's not too tight."

"Let me see…," She removes the towel, allowing him to have his favorite view for a few seconds before putting on one of the shirts. She opens her arms, smiling, showing his own face on her chest. "Yeah, it fits! How do I look?"

"Just like Donald Duck," he laughs. "Wearing a shirt and nothing else."

“Uh… aaah, you jerk!," She hides the middle of her legs with her hands, turning red again, while he bursts out laughing. "If I knew how to make a Donald Duck impression, I'd tell you everything you deserve to hear in his voice!"

"Hahahah, and who said I didn't like it?," Okubo smiles. "You look great in it. If it was up to me, you'd watch the match like this. It would make my job easier later..."

She puffs out her cheeks, still flushed.

"Pervert... I'll wear at least one pair of pajama shorts. Can you imagine me jumping up and down and screaming while my lady bits are ventilated? No, thanks!," She lets him have one more fit of laughter before continuing, smiling knowingly. "But you sure don't play around, huh. Wanting me to watch another one of my idols fight while wearing your face on my chest... they call it 'marking territory', right?"

"Oh, come on," he laughs again. "It's not like you're making a fool of yourself for wearing my face on your clothes… except if it was in front of an audience."

"I know I'm not. But I'd only wear it in front of an audience if you were also wearing something like that, so we can even it out," She jokes.

"Hmmm…," He has an idea. "I think I know exactly what I can do! Wait a minute," he walks into the closet and closes the door. About a minute later, he speaks from inside. "Ready, Tomoh?"

“I have no idea what for, but sure,” She nods, looking curiously at the door.

"Okay, there you go!," he walks out the door, and there he is, dressed from head to toe as a clown. "Ta-daaaa," he waves his gloved hands, smiling, joking around.

"Uh- Ooooh, my God!," She scratches like a crow, laughing and then pointing. "It's a Kuidaore Taro costume! I can't believe you have something like this, hahahaha!"

"Well, this is a new version, but yes, I do," he scratches the back of his neck. "I wore it in the last tournament I participated in, the guys even encouraged me… but nobody recognized me and that sucked," He sighs. "But it's fine, at least my number one fan recognized it and that's enough for me."

"How could I not recognize it? I baked a whole batch of cookies with his face the second time you visited the bakery, remember? Oh, my Gohohohod...," She bends over herself, still laughing. "All that's missing is the little drum and the drumsticks! Oooh man, I have to take a picture, wait!," And she runs out of the room, with her ass still out.

"Okay, now I'm feeling kinda weird watching you run with your ass out like a nutcase. I want to see more, but I'm dressed as a clown and it's distracting me from my cosplay! My God, that's so fucking perverted, ahahhahaha," He stifles a laugh.

"Dude, control yourself, you have to maintain the character! Come here, the lighting in the living room is better," She calls, and when he goes, she's wearing tiny silk shorts, her phone already in her hand. "Okay, can you concentrate better now?"

"Awwww…," he pouted, and in that costume, it looked like someone had hurt the clown's feelings. "Now I'm bummed, I wanted to keep this mental image of you being cute and sexy in my living room…"

"Naoya, look at the size of these pajama shorts! Only the complete set can be sexier than that," She slaps her own ass, laughing. "You'll see for yourself later. Come on, you don't want to appear in the photo with your 'circus tarp' all set up, do you? Hehehahaha!"

"Damn, that'd be one hell of a weird porn… but I'm not going to do that. Okay, if you're taking a pic, what pose should I do?"

"The classic 'playing drums' pose would be perfect, but I don't think you have the drum or the sticks... Oooh, I know, do a super sentai pose, it'll look funny!," She puts the phone horizontally. And relax, I won't" show it to anyone, it'll just be for me to keep as a souvenir. You look so cute, my God...!," she coos, and it didn't sound mocking. Hell, what had he done to deserve that woman?

He smiles. "Okay then, how about Ultraman's pose, like this?," he raises one arm and flexes the other, leaving his legs apart. "Then I'll open my best Kuidaore smile, just like this…," he smiles.

She laughs out loud and snaps the photo. And then another one hits. And other. And yet another, all of it non stop laughing, varying angles, herself seeming to strike poses in her excitement.

"That's perfect! Now flex your muscles... yes, just like that!," She was approving, and then she runs to him, hugging him from the side. "Wow, I can even see 'em through the costume! Lookin' gooood..."

"And it's all yours," He smiles. "Well, how about if I do this…?," He flexes his arms downwards, making them appear under the costume, and still looking smiling like an idiot, to Tomori's delight. "Yeah, now how about a-," He cuts himself off when he hears the doorbell ring "Oh".

She stops laughing, looking a little startled at the door.

"Oh, are- are you expecting someone? Who is that-"

"HEEEY, IS ANYBODY HOME?!," A thundering voice is heard from the other side of the door. "Is this where someone ordered a half margherita, half Florentine pizza, to match the owner's egg head?"

Tomori's eyes widen. "Rihito?"

"What the…!," he blinks. "I didn't invite him over…," He goes to the door and answers it. "Hey, Rihito, you could've told me you were coming, man!," He stops halfway to open the door when he sees Himuro and Kaneda. "Oh, you guys came too…," and he opens his mouth in astonishment when he notices the seven feet tall man right behind them. "Agito?!"

"Huh?," Tomori frowns, approaching to try to see behind Okubo's body. She could see Rihito, Himuro, Kaneda and... holy crap, who was that giant man right behind them?!

"Can you believe it, dude? Rihito ran into him when he was leaving Yamashita's office and…," Himuro was about to say, but he was interrupted as he looked him up and down, making a slightly perplexed expression. "What's with the costume?"

"And… Miss Uta? You're here?!," Kaneda widens his eyes when he notices Tomori, right behind Okubo. Rihito widens his eyes too, looking from her to the bald man, stopping to analyze the situation... and then making a face that was a mixture of horror and disgust.

"Holy shit, what the hell were you two doing in here?!"

The couple turns extremely red. An awkward silence falls over the group for a few moments. And that's when the huge man right behind the other three idiots, with slicked back dark hair, sunken eyes without eyebrows and wearing biker attire, finally speaks.

"Hnnn… is this what Narushima Koga calls 'bad timing'?"

NEXT CHAPTER

#Kengan Ashura #Kengan Omega #kenganverse #fanfiction #Okubo Naoya #Naoya Okubo #okubo x oc #kengan oc #Rihito #Himuro Ryo #Kaneda Suekichi #Kanoh Agito #cookies'n cream #the heavy bakery series

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seasurfacefullofclouds1 · 1 year

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Hi Sea! I've been following your blog for a while and I know you're very vocally anti-harry / anti-harries and I never really understood why.. until today. I made the mistake of going to a Harry concert and wow. The contrast between the crowd there and the crowd at Louis' concert was staggering. Sorry to trauma dump on you but holy shit I need you to know how right you are and how fucking dumb and vain Harry's fans are.

I swear 90% of the people there spent more time preparing their outfits than they did learning the songs lyrics.

I distinctively remember the crowd at Louis concert screaming back at him every word of the songs. I remember all the fan projects and us moving our phone lights on sync to the music, and how without knowing anyone there I felt safe surrounded by people who cared about Louis' art as much as I did...

Meanwhile, they had to stop today's concert for 20 minutes because so many people were fainting on the floor that Harry HIMSELF asked the fans several times to take a step back to ensure everyone could breathe. They didn't. The people who were on the stands started chanting "move back" and they still refused to move, just so they could be closer to their beloved 🙄 Talk about fucking entitled pieces of shit. They love to preach that TPWK bs but the *second* they are asked (BY THEIR IDOL, no less!) to do something nice for others they're like "nah, fuck 'em actually". Only when Harry and the whole band left the stage did they move.

Also, whenever Harry asked the crowd to sing, all you could hear was a whole stadium mumbling. It was depressing. Speaking of which, do you know that thing artists do where they say goodbye and fake leave so that people will chant and they'll come back for the encore? Well. Today's was pathetic. I mean it. Harry and the band left and instead of chanting his name or clapping in unison to get him to come back, people just stood there like 🧍🏻‍♀️🧍‍♂️🧍 istfg it was a whole 10 minutes of nothing, and then the band had to come back out again to a silent crowd. It was so lame.

Oh. But they all looked gorgeous on their leather pants and pink sunglasses and feather boa scarfs (that btw, left the entire stadium floor covered with plastic feathers for the cleaning crew to deal with) 🙄

It was horrible, bestie, you can't even begin to imagine. Anyway. Harries are trash but what else is new. Can't wait for The FITF tour to come to South America so I can be surrounded by louies again 💙💙💙

Hello!

Thanks for the message! I’m sorry you spent money to have a mediocre experience at a concert.

To be fair, people pushed at Louis’ concerts too, especially near the barricade when he came down. There were also some people who felt unwell and he and the band had to leave the stage. Unfortunately that happens in a GA pit.

The thing about LTWT2022 was that we had all waited so long for the tour that we knew the lyrics like the back of our hands. We had seen the livestream and AFHF2021, and we were so excited to take part in it! But this is the thing about Louis’ concerts: Louis LOVES loud crowd singing, no matter what the quality. He says so in interviews. So even in Milan, people sang the Bigger Than Me lyrics back to him, even though it had only been out for a few days. Fans know every word. I bet when Louis starts performing in December, fans will know every word.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think in Latam Harry is touring a mixture of Fine Line and Harry’s House? That’s a big setlist to remember, and maybe people just don’t bother because his lyrics aren’t meaningful to them. From the few clips I’ve seen, Harry’s performances are less about music and more about him striking poses on stage and occasionally cracking jokes. So whether the audience participates or not makes no difference. A lot of people have commented that Harry’s shows are about “being seen” at a Harry Styles show and posting it to social media. Harry’s music doesn’t exactly inspire empathy or camaraderie or friendship, and neither does Harry himself.

Last, I don’t dislike Harry only because of his fans; a few Harries can be repugnant but most are just normal people. I dislike Harry Styles for the person he is.

I also think the plastic boas and fast fashion that Harry encourages are an environmental disaster. Maybe his next fashion phase will be more climate conscious.

Can’t wait for FITFWT!

#harry styles

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mallaichte · 4 months

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🎆 reflecting on 2023, a weird (but actually very good) year

happy hogmanay!! it's the end of 2023 already huh! feels like it just got started, but i guess that happens every year. 2023 was Quite A Year for me, so i'd like to look back on these past 12 months and remind myself how far i've come 🌠

i say 12 months but actually i had a fairly quiet year up until august/september lol. so this year i had a big major life change - in september, i quit my job as an artist at a games studio, a role i'd been employed in for just over 5 years. there were a number of reasons for this, but to be honest the main thing was that i felt like i had stopped making art. technically i was (it was my job title!), but i'd become pretty severely disillusioned with the process of making assets to go into games that were being made just so a company could sell them, rather than working on games because i thought that they'd turn out good or interesting, or that people would like them, or that i'd enjoy the creative process, or even that someone else i was working with cared about the thing we were making. probably the worst part was that feeling like this sapped any energy i could have used for making art outside of work. i felt stagnant to the absolute core of my being. did you know the average career length of someone working in the games industry in the uk is 5 years? i understand why.

i quit my job! aaaahhhhh!! that was scary, mostly because i didn't have another job lined up to take its place! i went freelance instead, something that i'd done a few years ago while i was in university and shortly after graduating, but never as like my full-time gig. i was lucky enough to get some contract work in almost immediately, and am also blessed with the most supportive partner i think probably in the world, so it's been pretty smooth sailing so far! phew!

while i've been taking on freelance games artist jobs, i've also been taking some much-needed time to just make art for myself over the past few months, which has been so necessary and so healing, my skin is clear crops are flourishing etc etc. art for games can be hard and honestly kinda boring/repetitive for me sometimes, but painting and illustration feel like breathing - it's like my lungs are full of fresh air again. it's been slow and not particularly easy to sort of…let myself start just making art again, but i'm getting there, and it feels extremely good.

my roots are very much in online art communities (yes, unfortunately; deviantart), and when i went into art as a career that was something i left behind - inadvertently, but i found i just couldn't regularly build up the energy or time needed to make and post art online on top of making art as a 9-5. i uhhh picked a bad year to get back into posting art on the internet. holy shit. but. as much as things are on fire, i have really truly loved getting back to sharing my art and meeting other artists 💛

i would like to say an immense thank you to everyone who has supported my work over the past few months. leaving a permanent full-time job in favour of freelancing is a scary thing to do and it took me a long time to work up the courage to bite the bullet and do it, but the response that i've been getting when posting my art has been unbelievably lovely!! i feel sincerely reassured that i'm following the right path and i'm so excited for everything i'm gonna get to work on in 2024!

thank you for reading! love y'all let's make 2024 a banger!!! 💃🎉

#speaks words #this turned out ramble-y lol but i am being v earnest rn!

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digital-dhampirs · 2 years

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a somewhat coherent breakdown of VnC 55 (part 1): The Teacher

VnC 55 is a short chapter.

But holy shit, so much happens in it. We get so much information and the art is so pretty and I’m very very scared and I Need To Know More and when is January again.

So much stuff happens in this chapter that while I was writing this breakdown I realized I was going to have to split it into two parts just for my own sanity (and also for readability reasons). Part 1 will primarily focus on the Teacher, and then we’ll get into the other characters, along with a few predictions for upcoming chapters, in Part 2.

Before we start, three warnings! : 1) this post contains many spoilers for vnc chapter 55; 2) i will refer to the teacher as “teacher” and “comte” interchangeably during this post; annnnd 3) this post is very long. even for me. i… the teacher is my new Ruthven and the fact that his story intertwines with Luna’s makes my already meager ability to control my rambling even worse.

With that, let’s jump into the wild world of…

Mur— I mean, The Teacher

Let’s start by breaking down our first Teacher Fun Fact: his face reveal. The Teacher’s left eye is copper sulphate blue, the same color as Vanitas’s. His right eye is some unspecified other color but (judging from the fact that the way his eyes are colored matches up pretty much perfectly with Human! Murr’s eyes in the volume 8 cat cafe omake) is very very likely to be magenta/ purple.

This isn’t quiiiiite confirmation yet, but the matching eye colors plus the Teacher’s line about meeting Vanitas in a different form makes it incredibly likely that the Teacher is indeed Murr. And this. Uh. I. /stares at various panels of Murr eating cat food, playing with cat toys, cuddling up to Amelia, and having a crush on a cat./ I will once again generously refer to him as a method actor.

Of course, there’s always a chance that this could be a red herring and Murr is a separate entity from the Teacher in some way, but there’s a lot of evidence pointing to them being one and the same.

The Teacher and Names

The next massive piece of information we get on the Teacher is the name he’s currently going by— the Comte de Saint Germain. After some very brief googling, it turns out the Comte de Saint Germain was a philosopher and adventurer who lived during the 18th century. And this guy was an oddball. Nobody truly knows who he was or where he came from (although there are various theories going around). The Comte constantly lied about his true identity, switching names and personas at the drop of a hat. He made absolutely insane claims about himself, one of which was that he was multiple centuries old; and had strong ties to alchemy, stating he could melt diamonds and create gemstones. Despite his constant lying, people frequently found themselves drawn to the Comte, and thought he was fascinating rather than just a run of the mill charlatan (pun somewhat intended).

And that? That name sounds kinda perfect for the Teacher. Nobody knows where he came from, he changes his name and form at the drop of the hat, he’s centuries old, and he has strong ties to alchemy.

It follows to ask, though— in the universe of VnC, did the Teacher meet the Comte, find him interesting, and take on his name after he died? Or was he actually running around as the Comte throughout the 1700s, just a version of him reimagined as a vampire (similar to the characters we meet in the Gévaudan arc)? If the latter is the case, he’s likely been using this name for over a century by 1889, when VnC is set— does he cycle through a specific set of names/ identities?

Another odd thing to note is that so far, all of the names Teacher has used haven’t really been…. names. “Grandfather” and “Teacher” aren’t really names, they’re more like titles, and “Comte” just means “count”.

And wait. That’s weird too. Didn’t the Teacher already turn down the title of “count” and give it to his kid, Count de Sade? Why would he toss his own title away only to name himself “count” again later?

I think this is an indication of yet another detail on Teacher we see displayed throughout this chapter— he has a Thing with names. I don’t quite know what to call it— a preoccupation? An obsession? Either way, there is absolutely something going on with the Teacher and names.

Chapter 55 shows us that Ruthven’s line way back in Chapter 19– “if anyone calls him by the wrong name, he beats them within an inch of their life on the spot…”— was absolutely not an exaggeration. The Teacher’s grin turns from cheery to absolutely horrifying when Vanitas refers to him as “Shapeless One”, and he threateningly tells Vanitas to not get it wrong the next time.

The Teacher, despite insisting Vanitas call him by the right name, seems to completely refuse to use Vanitas’s name— as a matter of fact, throughout this whole chapter, he never actually refers to another character by their own name. He calls Noé and Dominique “mes chatons”, refers to Jeanne as “hellfire witch”, and calls Vanitas “kin of the blue moon” and “heir to ‘blue’” [more on that second one later].

This insistence on not using anyone else’s name starts to paint a lot of the Teacher’s previous actions in a very different light. In chapter 14, Ruthven says that the Teacher “hated even saying [his] name”, to the point of crossing Ruthven’s name out of every book in his castle. Ruthven seems to take this as a sign of the Teacher hating him, but what if this is just normal behavior for our dear buddy Comte? We do see the Teacher occasionally call Noé “Noé”, but whenever he refers to someone by their actual name he seems to almost always speak in a possessive sense— “my dear Louis”, “my darling grandchildren”. His cute pet name for Domi and Noé is similarly possessive— “mes chatons”, my kittens. The Teacher seems to have an intense preoccupation with naming others— and not allowing others to name him.

This is (I think) why the Teacher refused to accept a title and then contrarily chose to include that same exact title as part of his current name. If the Teacher had accepted a title, that would mean someone else was allowed to “name” him— and to the Teacher, that’s completely unacceptable. But if the Teacher is the one who chooses that title, he’s the one naming himself, and that’s ok.

Weirdly, the Teacher only applies this rule to himself and doesn’t extend the same courtesy to anybody else— he’s furious when anyone refers to him by a name someone else gave him, “shapeless one”, but proceeds to almost exclusively refer to others by names he (or someone else) made up for them. “Hellfire Witch”, “Kin of the Blue Moon”, and “Shapeless One” are all quite similar, as they’re all sort of colloquial street names for Jeanne, Vanitas, and the Teacher, but for some reason the Teacher has massive objections to one and is totally fine with using the other two.

Why might this be?

My first thought is that it could be some kind of power/ respect thing. The Teacher sees calling someone their proper name as a sign of respect, and since he seems to solipsistically see himself as above others, he refuses to allow other characters to disrespect him while constantly disrespecting them. But that doesn’t seem quite right to me. The Teacher refers to Noé by his name during the chapter 9 flashback— why would he call Noé “Noé” and then call Luna (whom he seems to like a lot) “Blue”?

Maybe it’s something to do with the Teacher seeing others as possessions/ not quite the same as him? Maybe he sees others as inherently below him, as sentient items he can control? But that feels a bit off too… hmm….

Unfortunately, I can’t really think of another explanation for the Teacher’s preoccupation with names at the moment. I’m sure I’ll have more theories in the future, but for now I think I’m gonna have to leave it as a very weird character quirk we’ll likely learn more about in the future.

With that…. /cracks knuckles/… let’s get into that whole “Blue” thing.

The Teacher and Luna

First and foremost! Comte here might be a very bad horrifying manipulative murderer who psychologically tortures all of our beloved protagonists on the daily, but his take here is based as fuck. Luna is 100% the most beautiful being in this world and I love them and if the Teacher manages to actually bring them back from the dead I will be very very happy (even though they will probably Not Be) and Luna is super pretty and I could talk about how pretty they are for multiple days—

So. There’s definitely something going on with Luna and the Teacher.

Ever since the very first chapter of VnC, the Teacher has shown a strong interest in the Blue Moon. He grins widely when a young Noé tells him that he thinks the blue moon is beautiful, even reaching over to pat his shoulder in a way that seems almost proud. He laughs delightedly when he sees Noé cheerfully tell Domi she shouldn’t be scared of the blue moon. All of the Teacher’s experiments seem to revolve around either Luna or Faustina (who, according to Noé, looks very similar to Luna. ngl I don’t see it but if Noé says so it’s probably relevant).

And, oddly enough, Luna, Faustina, and Comte all have a preoccupation with names.

Let’s put Faustina/Naenia and her interest in hunting for true names aside for now, and just focus on Luna and Comte.

For a while now, I’ve been kinda lowkey wondering if these two character act as foils for each other. They’re both parental figures to our dual protagonists and they’re both exceptionally powerful to the point of being legends in and of themselves. Luna is initially seen as dangerous and cruel, but seems to have been a truly kind and cheerful person. The Teacher, meanwhile, seems to act kind and cheerful but is actually incredibly dangerous and cruel beneath that exterior.

This change in readers’ perception of the Teacher and Luna follows a similar timeframe— in chapter 1 we’re introduced to the Teacher as benevolent and Vanitas of the Blue Moon as evil, we slowly learn more about both parties and how their true natures don’t line up with these initial impressions, and then during the exposition universalle arc we finally get to see both of them as they truly are/ once were for the first time.

The Names Thing just further solidifies Comte and Luna as foils for me.

They both seem to have started out nameless/ without a name they were satisfied with. Comte frequently refuses to refer to others by the names they prefer; while Luna immediately calls people by whatever they want to be called, referring to Mikhail as “Misha” when he tells them the nickname. Comte insists on not accepting any name someone else gives him, to the point of turning down a title only to give himself that title years later as part of one of his names. Luna, meanwhile, seems to accept any name they’re given— “Vanitas”, “Vampire of the Blue Moon”, “Father”. The name Luna ultimately finds satisfying and chooses to keep is a name someone else accidentally gave them.

This now brings us back to that same question from before. Why do these specific characters have such an interest in names? Why are their approaches to names so completely different? Is it something to do with respect? With how one sees themselves in relation to others? With the very first line of the manga, where the Teacher tells Noé that his “true name” is his very being?

If I was gonna pull a wild guess out of a hat, my current guess would be that Luna and the Teacher don’t actually have true names. Maybe Comte is indeed exactly what he’s called by other vampires— a shapeless being, without a true name or known nature. Maybe this is why the two of them are so closely tied to the concept of names— they’re both searching for a metaphorical formula that shapes who they are. Maybe this is why Comte is so upset by the name “shapeless one”, maybe this is why Luna tries on any name others give them.

But that’s just a theory, a manga theory!! Let’s drag my levitating theorist self back on to solid ground and talk a lil more about the Teacher and Luna and what’s going on between them. (*winks in shipper*)

SO. We’ve established that Comte has some sort of connection with Luna. It’s very possible he gave his current form one blue eye just because he liked the color, but considering he also gave Murr this type of heterochromia, I can’t help but feel like it goes deeper than that. I think there’s a very real possibility that Luna and the Teacher have met before, and may have even worked together at some point.

Firstly, there’s the fact that the Teacher’s obsession with Luna feels like it goes a liiiiittle bit beyond the scope of “oh I saw this really pretty vampire from afar one day so I decided to spend the rest of my life studying them and working to bring them back from the dead”. Assuming his line in Chapter 55 is about Luna and not just him… liking the color blue… or talking about some other entity, it sounds like he probably spent a nonzero amount of time with Luna at some point in the past.

For a little while now I’ve had a running theory that the Teacher was the one who gave Moreau the Books of Vanitas, along with Luna’s blood. Comte and Luna working together in the past could explain why he managed to acquire those items. In a chapter 51 flashback, Luna states that they once tried to find out what they truly were, but now deeply regret it. Could they potentially be referring to a time when they worked together with Comte?

With that, I think we can start piecing some puzzle pieces together about Luna and Comte and their past relationship. They likely worked together at some point, but Luna came to regret doing so. Luna never seems to have mentioned Comte to their adoptive kids, but the Teacher often told Noé the story of Vanitas of the Blue Moon and praised him when he said the blue moon was pretty. Luna died, and now the Teacher is trying to revive them.

Suffice to say, Comte seems absolutely infatuated with Luna.

The question is… does he actually feel any love or attachment to them? Or does he just want to possess them?

This is where we once again return to that delightful running theme throughout this post— names. Comte refers to Luna as “Blue”, probably a nickname stemming from “Vanitas of the Blue Moon”. But Comte’s probably been stalking Luna for a long while, watching them from afar while they traveled with the boys— does he really not know about their new chosen name? Not to mention, even if he doesn’t know about the name “Luna” for some reason, why does he have to be contrary and call them “Blue” rather than the usual “Vanitas”?

I doubt Luna minded this name, just like they didn’t mind “Vanitas” or “Father”, but it starts to raise red flags in my brain when it comes out of the mouth of the guy who constantly refuses to call others by their actual names and frequently refers to people in a possessive sense. It could be an affectionate nickname, but it could also be yet another sort of power/ respect/ possession thing. He also doesn’t refer to Luna as a person or a being or a vampire, he calls them the most beautiful “creature” in the world. It’s sus. It’s all very sus.

In addition to this! Even if Comte truly does feel something resembling “love” for Luna, there’s another interesting little knot to this tangled sort of love. Comte’s actions towards Luna feel remarkably and amusingly similar to the way his protégée acts around Luna’s adoptive kid.

(We’ve seen something else like this before, haven’t we? A protégée taking on a lot of the qualities of the vampire that raised them?)

Throughout VnC, Noé and Vanitas both have a bad habit of sacrificing themselves to save each other without putting any thought into how this will affect the other party. In Vanitas’s case, this is largely driven by his own self hatred and belief that he is inferior to or worth less than others.

And in Noé’s case, this is primarily driven by selfishness.

Noé is a selfish character. He loves Vanitas (whether this is platonic or romantic is largely irrelevant to this post so take it either way), and he doesn’t want Vanitas to get hurt. Seeing Vanitas upset makes Noé angry. And since Noé is selfish, if he has to do something to protect Vanitas that goes against what Vanitas wants (@/ slashing Mikhail in the previous chapter), he will do it. “I will never set you free” is, in context, a very moving statement, but looking at the line itself on its lonesome it’s practically scary.

I think, just like Jean-Jacques’s jealousy was learned from Chloé, Noé’s selfishness is something he learned from Comte.

With this I think we can start to parse out a little bit of what’s going on with Comte and Luna. I highly doubt Luna wants to be brought back from the dead— especially not if that process involves Comte manipulating and torturing a group of innocent randos and Luna’s adoptive kids. But Comte wants to bring Luna back anyways, and he’ll do whatever he needs to do to make it happen— because Comte, like Noé, is selfish.

a few more assorted notes

This is the section for fun observations that don’t really fit anywhere else in this meta!

Firstly, the Teacher seems to have to reveal his true “face” in order to manipulate the world formula. The image of his eyes changing color as he slips out of his ordinary form and into his monstrous one is horrifying and I love it, as is his insane amount of power— he seems to literally tear open a portal in the world and walk through it, something on a completely different scale from what we’ve seen so far in the manga.

Interestingly, though, the tendrils surrounding Teacher’s eldritch horror form look completely different from the ones we saw back in chapter 9. They’re actually eerily similar to Ruthven’s black flames, which is… very concerning, but I’m convincing myself it’s just something he taught himself how to do and not an indication of anything else nope nope nope noep—

I do indeed have more things to say about the Teacher, but!!! Those thoughts will be left for part two of this post. With that I think we’ve finally reached…

not the end! (but in conclusion,)

It’s Christmas Eve. I just spent the past three hours losing my mind over a manga character.

I have no regrets.

If you made it this far, holy shit thank you so much for reading this post. Please take everything here with a massive grain of salt— this is all just my interpretation of the manga so far and will likely be proven completely wrong as we learn more about Comte and Luna in the future. If you’d like, please tune in for Part 2, coming soon to a vnc tag near you (hopefully I can get it written today but uhh…. hmm…. various preexisting conditions may get in the way of that), which will include my thoughts on Vanitas, Noé, and basically any part of the chapter I didn’t go over in this post (including, rather upsettingly, yet more Teacher).

Thanks again for reading, and happy holidays!

update: here’s a link to part 2..!

#vanitas no carte #vnc #the case study of vanitas #vnc spoilers #vnc 55 #vanitas no shuki #meta-ish #the teacher #comte de saint germain #i know I should be calling him The comte and not just comte but i prefer the latter ngl #happy holidays; i say; at the end of a post all about a murderous monster who beheaded his own grandson #will link part 2 once it’s up #also I’m very sorry for constantly switching between ‘teacher’ and ‘comte’#there’s no logic to the switching beyond ‘brain wants to call him comte/ teacher in this sentence’

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cower-before-power · 3 years

Text

Naked Attraction

Summary: A typical day in your art class turn into anything but when you’re introduced to your nude model for the week- a devastatingly gorgeous man named Levi.

Pairing: Modern AU Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

TW: Nudity, swearing, suggestive content, age gap (reader is 20, Levi is 30), dick jokes, reader is thirsty and lewds Levi hard, perhaps poorly written stuff about art and drawing because I literally know nothing haha

(minors please do not interact, just to be safe)

Link to A03 here

A/N: Hello all! This is my entry for @ghost-party’s Meet Cute Collab with my darling husband Levi. I’ve never written for him before so I was a little nervous haha, I hope I did him justice! Thank you to everyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs- you are all wonderful and I appreciate your support! I hope you enjoy, my sweet potatoes!

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“Morning,” Jean greets you with a crooked smile and a steaming cup of coffee. It’s the good stuff from the café by his apartment, your favourite thing to help your brain shift into creative mode. “You’re later than usual.”

You grab the cup from him, sighing as you feel the warmth bleed into your hands. “Overslept. Barely had time to get dressed and brush my teeth.”

Jean’s eyes rove over you as you sink into your chair, humming to yourself as you sip on your drink. “I can see. Do you know you’re wearing two different shoes? And I think your sweater is on inside out. Why do you still even have that ugly thing anyways?”

“Thank you for your comments,” you roll your eyes. “I know I look like a hot mess and I don’t need any words from you, Mr. I Asked The Nude Model Out And Got Shot Down.”

Jean’s ears turn red, and he shoots you a dirty look before busying himself with arranging his pencils. “Shut up.”

You snicker to yourself as you set up your own area. Last week’s model had been a soft, pretty brunette that had instantly made Jean all starry-eyed, like a teenage boy with his first crush. It was generally considered a bit taboo to ask out the nude models, but he’d thrown that aside and gone for the kill after she’d slid back into her clothes. She’d laughed and patted his cheek like he was a naughty child asking for candy before dinner. Then proceeded to walk out and climb onto the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle (but not before making out with said boyfriend for a good 5 minutes, minimum).

Jean had been left with red cheeks and no date, and you’d been left with great blackmail material.

“I wonder who will be our victim today,” you decide to take mercy on your poor friend and change the subject. “Most likely a guy, since we had a woman last week.”

“We’ll know in about 5 minutes,” Jean looks up at the clock on the wall. “Old Cueball is never late.”

Sure enough, in exactly 5 minutes your very bald and very punctual professor casually strolls through the door. A short man in a green coat is following him, presumably your newest subject. You crane your neck, trying to get a better look at his face, but all you can see is dark hair falling like a curtain over pale skin.

“Good morning class,” Professor Pyxis greets you, tossing his briefcase down on his desk with his usual nonchalant air. “I see you are all ready, so let’s get right to it.” He gestures to the person beside him. “This is Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’s your model for the week.”

The class murmurs in curiosity as the mentioned Levi Ackerman turns to face the room.

You swear your heart actually skips a beat.

Steel gray eyes observe the room from a face that practically begs to be immortalized through art. Every line is hard and strong, covered in clear skin that looks like it would slide under your fingers like the smoothest silk. Your eyes drink in his features greedily, from the regal bridge of his nose to the proud edge of his jaw. You decide your favorite thing though, is his cheeks. They are utterly cherubic, round and full and dusted ever so lightly with the lightest shade of pink.

He’s possibly the prettiest man you have ever seen.

“Hey, I know him,” Jean whispers, cutting off your entranced thoughts. “That’s Mikasa’s distant cousin, the one I told you she found on Ancestry.com last year. I’ve met him once, he’s got a stick so far up his butt, he’d need surgery to remove it. Never would have pegged him for the type to do this sort of thing.”

You vaguely remember a previous conversation involving Jean’s childhood friend and some long lost relatives.

“He doesn’t look that uptight,” you muse, too busy admiring the way his lips glint temptingly under the fluorescents to really process Jean’s words. “He’s beautiful, like something out of a Renaissance painting.”

Jean opens his mouth to reply, but Pyxis begins to speak.

“As usual, draw whichever side of him is facing you, all angles will be graded equally,” your professor plops himself down in his chair, already scrolling through his phone to find the playlist for the day. “Completed drawings to be submitted to me by the end of class on Friday. Please remember be respectful and courteous to our guest. Mr. Ackerman, whenever you’re ready.”

The man nods to your professor, already slipping out of his coat as he steps up onto the platform in the center of the room. You watch, mesmerized, as he proceeds to shed himself of his clothes. It’s rigid and methodical (he folds his clothes like he’s worked his whole life in a department store), but somehow oddly endearing. Every inch of his body that is revealed is consumed eagerly by your shameless stare, and you sincerely hope you don’t start drooling. By the time he carefully removes his final items, you feel like you are vibrating in your seat.

Holy fucking shit, he’s built like a god. Like Michelangelo himself carved him out of a block of the most pristine marble. You trace your gaze down the column of his throat, over the strong shoulders and sinewy arms, the impressive set of abs, the thighs that look like they could crush your head and you’d be nothing but happy about it. It takes a minute before you’re able to make yourself look between his thighs, and when you finally do, you have to looks away immediately. Good grief, even that is stupidly handsome. You can’t help but wonder if it would feel as nice as it looks.

Your face heats from your lewd thoughts, and you grip your pencil so hard it almost snaps. Beside you, Jean snickers.

“You okay over there? It looks like you’re about to explode.”

“Can it,” you hiss, glad that the ambient music Pyxis chose will probably keep your conversation private. “I can’t help it that I’m looking at the most gorgeous dick attached to the most gorgeous man I think I’ve ever seen.”

“You haven’t seen mine.”

“I don’t own a microscope.”

“Ooooh, see if I buy you coffee tomorrow, bitch.”

You stick your tongue out at him before turning back to your easel. As you move, you catch the gaze of Levi, his expression unreadable. Warmth creeps up the back of you neck, and you duck behind your sketchpad in embarrassment. You seriously hope he didn’t hear you, he’d probably report you to Pyxis for being creepy. You decide to lock all your stupid horny thoughts deep within the recesses of your mind, and take a few deep breaths to clear your head.

It works, and as you touch pencil to paper, the desire to create overflows inside of you.

Unsurprisingly, you become utterly engrossed in your work, your pencil sweeping over the pad with almost a mind of it’s own. Levi is the perfect model; you swear he’s not even breathing as he majestically hold his pose without even a quiver. The contours of his body spring to life on the page, and you can’t stop the joyful smile that blooms on your lips as you work. It’s times like these, when everything is so perfect, that you truly realize just how much you love making art.

Before you know it, Pyxis announces class is over, and you’ll resume with Levi tomorrow. The man of the hour begins to re-dress as your fellow classmates pack up their supplies and file out. You absent mindedly wave to Jean, who is practically sprinting out the door so he can make his next class all the way across campus. You’re still engrossed in your drawing, staring at it with critical eyes. It good, one of the best starts you’ve had all year, but now that the high of creating has worn off, you can see where you need to improve.

“You’re very good.”

You gasp and jump, whirling around to find Levi standing behind you, eyes fixed on your sketch. How did he even get there? You hadn’t seen him or heard him.

“Oh, uh, Mr Ackerman!” You squeak, your heart racing like you’ve just run a marathon. “T-that’s very nice, I mean, thank- thank you very much!”

“It’s Levi,” your muse says, seemingly unbothered by your stammering. “Yours is going to be the best one here.”

You blink stupidly at his bold statement. “Did you look at all of them?”

“No,” Levi’s voice is firm, a tone that brokers no argument. “But you had the most joy on your face while you worked. That much passion doesn’t churn out stuff that looks like shit.”

“Oh, that’s only because you are such a great model,” you gush, insides turning warm at his praise. “You stayed so still and you looked so damn regal and you’re just so pretty and-” Your eyes go wide as you realize the absolute words vomit leaving your mouth, mortification slithering up your spine.

“I’m pretty?” Levi raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m pretty?”

“No!” You shout, and the man’s other eyebrow joins the first. “No wait, yes! I mean, fuck, I mean you are probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen!”

Levi’s eyebrows have now practically become one with his hairline. You wring your hands, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow you. “I-well- come on, people must tell you how good looking you are! I can’t be the first.”

“No, but you certainly are the most enthusiastic about it,” Levi deadpans.

Oh, someone just put you out of your misery now.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, cringing internally at your complete ineptitude to hold a conversation with an attractive man. “I....get carried away sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Levi’s stoic expression softens just a little. “It’s kind of nice to hear, actually. Usually I’m told I’m good looking, but ‘far too short’.”

“That’s bullshit.” you say vehemently, honestly shocked people would deny this man his godhood over something as trivial as height. “Who cares if you’re shorter? It doesn’t detract from you. What’s that phrase again? Good things come in small packages? Well, not that you’re small, I’m not saying that, I just meant-”

“Yes, you did seem to find my package....good,” Levi interrupts, and you swear you see the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as your brain replays your hushed conversation with Jean. “You heard that?!”

“I’m told I have exceptionally good hearing.”

“Oh fuck me,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “I am literally so, so, sorry. That was completely out of line. I have no excuse other than it’s clearly been too long since I’ve gotten some, but that’s no reason to make you uncomfortable. Please, if there’s anything I can do to to make it up to you, I’ll do it!”

“Have tea with me.””

Your head shoots up, surprise coloring your features. “What?”

“Tch, you heard me,” Levi tuts, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. “I haven’t got free time till Saturday-stupid Shitty Glasses wanting to trade shifts-but if you want to go out, give me your number and we can work out the details.”

You stare at him with your mouth open, unsure if this is really happening or you’re vividly daydreaming again.

“Umm, are you sure?” You ask, wondering if you should pinch yourself to see if you are indeed imagining things. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m wearing two different shoes and my sweater is inside out. Believe me when I say these sorts of fashion statements happen more often than not. Plus, I practically salivated over you like some sort of horny middle aged suburban housewife who hasn’t been laid in years.” You pause to take a breath, once again unable to stop the words from spewing forth like a fountain. “And I’m so awkward! I mean, are you comfortable in this conversation? And I can’t stop talking once I’ve gotten going, and I say the weirdest shit, and, and-”

“I like you,” he says simply, as if he’s just declared something as obvious as 1+1=2. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about all the stuff you just said, you’re just... you, and I like it. So, do you want to go on a date or not?”

“O-oh,” you suddenly feel shy, your tummy filling with butterflies at the look of sincerity on his handsome face. You’d never met anyone quite like Levi Ackerman before, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get to know the man behind the drool-worthy muscles. “Uh, yes, please, I would like that. Very much.”

An almost relieved expression crosses Levi’s face, and he hands you his phone to type in your number. You notice the time as you do so, and sigh sadly as you hand him his device back.

“Well I better go,” you say reluctantly, suddenly fervently wishing it was Saturday already. “I’ve got another class in 15 minutes.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Levi says briskly, slipping his phone back into his coat. “To make sure you get there safely. Someone might murder you on account of their eyes being assaulted by that garish sweater. ” The corners of his lips twitch upwards once again, and you grow warm all over, from both his gentle teasing and the knowledge he isn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet either.

“Excuse me, I thought you said you didn’t give a ‘flying fuck’ about my attire,” you huff, but you’re grinning as you quickly pack up your bag.

“I don’t care it’s inside out, but you have to know that is the ugliest fucking color know to man,” Levi says, holding out his hand. Your brain malfunctions slightly for a moment, until you realize he’s offering to carry your bag for you. The butterflies inside you whip themselves into a frenzy as you pass him your stuff, your hand just grazing over his. Handsome, funny, honest, and sweet? How is this guy even real?

“I’ll have you know, this sweater is an absolute delight. When it’s inside right,” you stick up your nose, but unable to stop he laugh that slips past your lips.

Levi rolls his eyes in an almost playful manner. “Doubtful .”

You’re not sure where it comes from, but a sudden rush of confidence fills you. “If you’re so offended by it, maybe you should just rip it off of me.”

The tips of Levi’s ears turn a delightful shade of pink. You’re sure your own skin is hot enough to cook an egg on.

“Wear it Saturday then,” Levi’s ears may be flushed, but his eyes flash with something that makes your spine tingle. The insinuation of his words has your gut clenching and your mind whispering fervent prayers to please please please make Saturday get here faster, I don’t ask for much, please!

“Only if you wear your modeling outfit,” you manage to say, trying your best to sound coy when you feel like you might combust into a pile of lust and giddiness. “I’ve never seen someone wear it so well, and I want a closer look.”

If possible, Levi’s eyes grow even darker, and you just know Saturday is going to be one of the best damn days of your entire life.

“Deal.”

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Taglist: @clovertitan @millenialfanfictionaddiction @stigandr-the-cat @axoxtxhxh @bowandcurtsey @chaotic-nick @manjiroarchiviste

#meet cute collab #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman imagine #levi x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader

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redhoodieone · 3 years

Text

You’re so Lucky!

A/N: Hey y’all! Here’s another sexy story that was a request from the amazing @jasontoddslut! Enjoy my peeps!

Warnings: Language, Bad Relationship with Ex-Boyfriend, Smut, Voyeurism, and Jason’s Goddamn Dirty Mouth!!!!!

It was bound to happen. She couldn’t deny this was going to happen sooner rather than later. If she believed they that they could get through their issues and be happy like they once were, then she’s a real fucking idiot.

Gabi still couldn’t believe it though. One minute she was trying to calm Bobby down and the next, he’s screaming at her and telling her to get the fuck out of his apartment. He was in a bad mood to begin with. He’s a mechanic and he’s always tired when he gets home. He was expecting dinner to be ready and maybe have his loving girlfriend of three years rub his back since his shoulder pain is getting worse.

But no. Gabi made the mistake of asking Bobby where he was tonight as soon as he got home.

What set him off was her telling him to calm down. She should have known though.

You should NEVER. EVER. Tell an easily angry guy to calm down.

Because that’s like telling fire to not burn people. Or telling a baby to not cry.

She should have known better though. It’s no surprise Bobby’s into some serious shady shit that the low life Gothamites meet up sometimes at night in casinos or nightclubs. She knows they do illegal shit like selling drugs, ordering weapons from other countries, and maybe even kidnapping young women and children.

And Bobby had participated in the ordering weapons category.

How Gabi found out is another story: she knows for damn sure that Bobby once brought home fifteen state of the art total militia AK-47 guns. Bobby had foolishly asked Gabi to go get some important documents from his huge safe; totally forgetting the weapons were in there about five months prior.

Why would a normal mechanic need such weapons?

Gabi had decided to never bring it up. Bobby would either deny or lie about it. His temper had been getting worse right about then and she knew better.

But he wasn’t always like this. Oh, no. Bobby was a funny, laid back, and loving type who worshipped the ground Gabi walked on before they even started dating. But after two years of living with each other, things changed.

Simple as that. Things changed.

Gabi always wondered how things could just...change. So easily. The fact that it could happen in the blink of an eye frightens her sometimes.

Just like Bobby’s hidden anger. She never knew a hilarious and sweet guy could have the rage of a bull.

Bobby never hit her though. He always made sure to slam his fist against the wall beside her head, though. He was the type to yell and belittle Gabi as if she was a little girl.

But she wasn’t a little girl. She was a 23-year-old woman who moved in with her boyfriend so fast that she began to understand why her parents and friends disapproved of her choices and relationship.

I just had to learn the hard way, Gabi thought to herself.

She doesn’t know why she’s trying to think of sayings that relate to this experience. The point is, Gabi knows she seriously fucked. With Bobby only giving her ten minutes to pack whatever truly mattered to her, she had to hurry the fuck up.

The moment she made it outside the apartment building, all Gabi could do is replay her questions that she asked Bobby.

Where were you tonight?

Were you with someone?

What did you do?

Why can’t you tell me what you did?

Are you hiding something from me?

Are you getting into dangerous things?

No wonder Bobby kicked her out. Gabi should have never put her nose in his business. And now, she’s practically homeless. She knows it would be embarrassing as hell to go back to her parents’ house because of what they told her before getting involved with Bobby. She also knows her friends would treat her horribly, with the “I told you so” stares and lectures. Gabi was certainly running out of options just as the rain began to fall.

There was one person she could go to, who would never turn her away.

However, Gabi hasn’t spoken to this person in about a year because of her relationship with Bobby as well as this person’s own relationship with their significant other.

But Gabi knew Y/N was a good person, a good friend. She was a sweet person, with a big warm heart and she would never turn her away.

With nowhere else to go, Gabi walked alone in the rain all the way down to high class side of Gotham.

By the time Gabi gets to the high-class penthouses, she has to call Y/N to let her inside. Of course, Y/N excitedly tells her to come up, and Gabi immediately starts to feel somehow relieved that Y/N hasn’t changed at all.

As Gabi finally makes it to the correct floor, she sees Y/N waiting by the door, where Gabi assumes is where Y/N lives. Y/N is wearing a red and black flannel pajama pants and a thin black tank top. Gabi also notices Y/N’s barefoot, and her hair’s in a messy bun.

She must have just woken up. I’m so sorry, Y/N, Gabi thinks to herself.

But none of that matters when Y/N meets Gabi halfway in the hall where they collide in a tight, warm-hearted embrace. Y/N smells like a woodsy, musky cologne, most likely from whoever she’s seeing with now. Maybe they were snuggling up against with each other until Gabi had called and asked if she could come over.

“Come inside. You must be freezing!” Y/N says, releasing Gabi from her hug and pulling her arm towards the front door.

Gabi follows on shaky legs, completely overwhelmed by seeing her longtime best friend. Y/N giggles and leads Gabi inside the penthouse. Gabi instantly is hit by the aroma of vanilla and musk, the smell of intimacy and seduction. Her eyes take in the red and black walls and décor, some exquisite art pieces, and the big space that is more comfortable and warmer than most homes she’s ever seen.

“Welcome, mi casa es tu casa! Seriously Gabi, babe, make yourself at home. There’s absolutely no rush to leave. You leave when you’re ready, okay?” Y/N says seriously.

“Are you absolutely sure? I really don’t want to impose or put you and your boyfriend out,” Gabi confesses.

Y/N leads Gabi to the long, cherry red couch that is facing a huge flat screen TV. Gabi sets down her duffle bag and takes a seat next to Y/N on the couch.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Jay and I insist you stay here until you figure out what you want to do, okay?” Y/N says, before she turns around to get comfortable to face Gabi.

A vanilla candle is lit on the coffee table. Gabi’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I didn’t...interrupt something, did I?”

“Oh, no, you didn’t! I was just setting the mood in the living room to be more...comfy,” Y/N admits, with a chuckle. “Jason just got home a few minutes ago and is taking a shower. He should be done by now.”

As if on cue, they hear someone walking down the hall and towards the living room. He stops near the couch. There in all his glory, well half-naked glory, stands Jason Todd, God’s greatest creation of man...at least that’s what both girls were thinking.

“Gabi, this is Jason, my boyfriend,” Y/N proudly introduces Jason to Gabi. “Jay, this is Gabi, my best friend in the whole wide world.”

Still dripping wet and fresh out of the shower, Jason at least has a white towel wrapped around his waist; hiding his goods that Gabi wanted to see so desperately. He’s really tall, must be 6’2 or something close to that. She takes note that Jason is all man: there’s absolutely nothing that screams “boy”. Gabi inhales hard when she watches his large hand run through his soaked dark hair. The other hand holds the towel tightly around his hips.

“Hi,” Jason smirks at Gabi. She notices his eyes are green, almost like emeralds. He smiles at her, even his white teeth are perfect. “So, you’re Gabi. Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

“She-she has?” Gabi chokes out. Why is it so hot in here? Why can’t she speak?

Her eyes zero in on the droplets of water running down his strong as fuck built chiseled chest and perfectly sculpted abs that she really wants to lick and bite his skin.

Holy fuck...

Gabi scolds herself for thinking such inappropriate thoughts about her best friend’s boyfriend. Even though Gabi’s never fantasized Bobby this kind of way, she realizes Y/N’s lucked out. Bobby wasn’t in shape or even remotely attractive like Jason.

“Of course, she has. You’re one of her best friends, and I’m happy to finally meet you. I would go over there to shake your hand and properly greet you, but I’m uh...not exactly dressed yet,” Jason chuckles, and almost seems shy now. “I’m gonna go get dressed real quick so we can talk.”

You don’t have to. You can stay the way you are. You can even drop the towel, Gabi thinks improperly.

Y/N smiles softly at Jason as they watch him leave. True to his word, Jason returned in a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt and took a seat next to Y/N. Throughout their comfortable and pleasant conversation, Gabi truly sees the way Jason cares about her best friend. Midway through their talk about what happened to Bobby, Jason clearly was paying attention and rubbed caressed Y/N’s thigh when Gabi recounted the latest scary fight with Bobby. Whenever Y/N looked shocked or worried, Jason made sure to calm her down through touches, forehead kisses, and whispers words along the lines of love, probably.

It almost makes Gabi jealous. Y/N’s life is clearly so much better than what Gabi had going on for herself. Jason seems like the perfect gentleman; always does and says the right thing. Gabi’s never seen a man pay so much attention to a woman before. Not only did he offer Gabi his advice and opinions on getting a better and more affordable apartment on their street, but Jason even voiced his hatred for Bobby, and even went on to criticize the man for treating women so poorly. He even made a joke about finding the man and breaking his legs; making Gabi and Y/N laugh their asses off and making the energy around them fun again.

But for some reason, Gabi couldn’t help but notice that Jason wasn’t laughing as hard as she and Y/N were. It almost seemed like Jason was serious about breaking Bobby’s legs, but Jason wouldn’t do that. She was sure of it.

He wouldn’t, would he?

By the time midnight came, the three of them stood up and decided to go to bed. Jason even surprised Gabi by giving her a hug and telling her that she can stay in their guest bedroom for however long as she wants and needs.

“I’m serious, kid. Don’t even worry about it. You mean so much to Y/N, and so therefore, you mean a lot to me, too,” Jason had said as he pulled back from their hug.

Gabi was speechless to say the least. She didn’t want the hug to end. He felt so good in her arms and he smelled so fucking good.

But it was bedtime now, and once Y/N and Jason had shown Gabi the guest bedroom, they went off to bed to let Gabi get comfortable. It wasn’t long for Gabi to quickly clean herself up and put on some plain pajama shorts with a tank top. As soon as she turned off the light, she was amazed by how big and comfortable the bed was. She figured it must be new and is probably the first person to sleep in here. In just a few minutes, exhaustion took over and Gabi fell into a deep sleep.

Her throat was dry. That’s what awoke Gabi at two in the morning and made her climb out of bed and go search for a bottle of water. She made sure to tiptoe out of the room and walk slowly and quietly to the kitchen.

As soon as Gabi made it to the end of the hallway, she stops dead in her tracks when she hears moaning. A woman moaning.

Her mind registers that it’s Y/N moaning. But why is she moaning in the living room?

Curiosity forces Gabi to peek out into the living room and see what’s going on, despite the logical part in her mind is screaming at her to have some respect for her best friend and her boyfriend.

But being a pervert outweighs being a prude.

Gabi is utterly shocked to her core when she sees her best friend straddling Jason’s lap. On the red couch where they sat a couple of hours ago, Gabi sees Y/N and Jason making out heavily. She couldn’t unsee it; she wants to keep watching them.

Gabi even sees the vanilla candle is lit again, after Jason had blown it out before they all went to bed.

But all Gabi could see is Jason’s fingertips digging hard into Y/N’s exposed flesh from where her tank top is pushed up above her bare tits. Y/N shamelessly moans in between the evident delicious kisses, and grinds against Jason’s apparent bulge.

Gabi quickly notices an isolated leather recliner that’s against the wall near the hallway. She throws herself down, sinks into the chair and watches the practically live porno show in front of her.

Jason pulls back from the deep kiss, revealing his red, swollen lips from where Y/N’s been biting and sucking since the beginning. He rests his head back against the couch and looks up with hazy, lustful eyes as Y/N grins down at him. She bites her bottom lip and pulls up her tank top, removing her top completely from her body.

“Fuck...what the hell are you doing to me, sweetheart?” Jason asks breathlessly. He runs his hands up Y/N’s back and moves them to her front where he reaches for both her tits.

“I’m slowly...and softly killing you,” Y/N says, closing her eyes and moans when Jason gently grabs both her tits in his hands; her breasts fill his hands perfectly.

“I’d say...” he says, before sighing contently when switches from pinching her nipples to squeezing her tits before he sits up straighter and pulls Y/N’s body closer to lick and suck her sensitive nipples.

“Oh, fuck...oh Jay...feels so good,” Y/N moans louder than before. She whimpers and continues to rub herself against him. “I need to cum...please make me cum, Jay...”

Jason pulls back from her chest and gazes into Y/N’s eyes. “You wanna cum, doll? Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, please...I need you so bad!”

“No, I don’t think you need to cum,” Jason teases, before he pulls off his own t-shirt. “Now, I’m going to take off the rest of your clothes, but if you touch your pussy, I ain’t going to fuck you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Y/N snaps. Her cheeks are flushed from being aroused.

Jason smirks at Y/N’s frustration.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, sweetheart. I’m going to check how wet you are,” Jason explains, as he raises Y/N off his lap to pull down her pajama pants and panties; leaving her completely bare on his lap. “If you’re soaking wet, then I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be feeling me for days. But if I have to make you wet, then that means I get to do whatever I want to this pussy.”

“But-”

Jason runs his hand up Y/N’s thigh until his fingers glide over her bare pussy. His fingers gently push inside her, he can feel the wetness, but wants to see it for himself.

“Stand up and put your pussy in my face,” he demands.

“What?”

“I want to taste your delicious pussy right now. Don’t make me get up and literally put you on my shoulders to eat you out,” Jason threatens.

Y/N slowly moves to stand up carefully on the couch. Her legs are shaking, but Jason quickly grabs her to hold her steady. He doesn’t waste any time, and he dives into her pussy as if he’s a starving man.

“Oh fuck!” Y/N cries out.

Jason’s tongue on her clit is what she wants the most right now. He squeezes her thigh and flicks his tongue side to side until Y/N fears she’s either going to fall back or fall over him.

Y/N notices one of Jason’s pull up bars is above her. How convenient.

She grabs a hold of the bar to hold herself up just as he decides to slip a finger inside her. Holding herself up allows him to remove a hand from her thigh. He takes the opportunity to slip another finger inside and pumps them in and out fast.

Y/N’s body trembles when Jason curls his fingers and strokes the sensitive wall that he’s mastered so well. He can tell she’s close. She must have been excited earlier when they planned to stay in last minute. He manages to look up at her and he can see she’s barely holding on.

“You’re so close aren’t you, babe? You taste so fucking good that I want you to cum on my face. I want you to be my dirty girl tonight,” Jason says as he finger-fucks her harder and faster than before. “Are you going to be my dirty girl tonight?

“Yes! Fuck yes! Just-just make me cum, please!” Y/N cries out desperately, needing the push that Jason could only give her.

“You are my dirty girl. You love it when I make you cum with just my fingers and mouth. But I bet you want my cock right after, huh?” Jason asks, chuckling darkly when Y/N’s eyes roll back when he speeds up his fingers inside her. “You wanna ride me, don’t you?”

“Yes-yes I do...” she’s panting now.

“Okay, I want you to cum in my face and then quickly get on my lap and ride me. Fast, slow, hard, whatever, you pick. I just want to feel your warm, tight pussy around my dick, okay?” Jason says, quickly shoving his sweatpants and boxers down to his feet. “Fuck...give me your pretty, tasty pussy, sweetheart!”

And then Jason finally gives in. He pulls both her thighs to bring her pussy to his face. Y/N whimpers when he licks all around her wetness, and he hums in approval when he feels her hand stroking his scalp and pulling his hair, while she continues holding herself up with only one hand now.

The vibration from his humming helps her reach her release. He continues to thrust his fingers inside her and sucks her clit until she gushes in his face.

Y/N manages to silent most of her orgasm, but it didn’t help when Jason continued to lick and suck at her clit to swallow most of her juices. Once her body relaxes, she lets go of the pull up bar and drops down to the couch. Y/N quickly straddles Jason’s lap until her pussy is hovering above his hard cock.

“Spit on my cock, doll. Get it nice and wet,” Jason says, as he watches Y/N spit in her hand and stroke his thick cock until he’s nice and ready for her. “How are you going to ride me, sweetheart?”

Y/N slowly looks up into Jason’s dilated, misty eyes. “Deep. Hard. And fast,” she says.

Jason swallows hard but is able to quickly smirk up at Y/N before she takes full control. “Then ride me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on my cock like the dirty girl you really are.”

Y/N finally lowers herself onto Jason’s cock, all logic and common sense flies out the window. Whenever his cock was deep inside her, they both tend to lose themselves and the world around them. Because whenever they were connected emotionally and physically in their bubble, nothing else fucking matters in the world.

When Jason fills her up completely, they both release a content sigh. They usually take their time in the beginning, mostly because of their fears whenever Jason leaves to work as Red Hood. But since they’re both so horny and want to cum sooner, they’ll have to just take their time during round two.

“Fuck me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself silly on my dick,” Jason moans, but he and Y/N laugh at the “silly” part, when he realizes that’s not very sexy.

But Y/N understands and slowly lifts herself up his lap until just the tip of Jason’s cock is inside her. She keeps a steady pace, lifting herself and lowering herself, until their rhythm flows. Within seconds, Jason helps her by holding her hips tightly and thrusting his hips in time with hers.

“Your cock is so big inside me, Jay. You fill me up so good,” Y/N moans and rides him a little faster; wanting the head of his cock to rub hard and relentlessly against her g-spot. She guides one of his hands off her waist to move towards her pussy, encouraging him to rub her clit. “I wanna cum again, Jay.”

“Yeah? You like ridin’ my big cock, you dirty girl? You want me to fill your pussy with my cum?” Jason asks, watching Y/N’s tits bounce while she rides his cock faster than before. He can’t help himself, he uses a free hand to pinch her nipple and leans in to bite and suck her breasts, until he puts his hand back to her hip to guide her thrusts. “You want me to fill you up with my cum?”

“Yes! Yes, please!” Y/N begs.

“Okay, my dirty girl. I’ll give you what you want.”

Well, Jason knows now that this is going to end fast, but he refuses to let it end without Y/N cumming hard again. He squeezes her hip with one hand and the other hand rubs her clit fast in messy circles. He begins to pull her down to meet his thrusts, fucking her harder and faster with everything he’s got. The squelching sound from his cock fucking up into her wet pussy becomes more noticeable, especially when their skin-on-skin slapping gets louder and harsher that echoes in the living room.

“Fuck...Y/N, you’re getting so tight. You feel so fucking good baby,” Jason pants hard, completely sweating and keeping his fast and erratic pace to get them to their releases. “Fuckin’ cum on my big cock, sweetheart. I wanna feel you cum so bad. Please cum for me, again.”

Y/N keeps her eyes on Jason just as her orgasm hits her hard; she squeezes and gushes around his cock, she calls out his name. Jason thrusts harder in her three more times, as he finally cums hard inside Y/N, calls out her name as quietly as he could. Y/N collapses against Jason’s chest, despite being hot and sweaty, but he doesn’t mind. He wraps both arms around her and holds her while they regain their breaths and can function normal again.

Y/N doesn’t see the loving smile Jason gives her as he kisses her forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, and hugs her tighter.

She looks up at him and smiles. “I love you, too.”

Before Y/N can lie her head against Jason’s chest again, she notices Gabi sitting and watching them. Y/N jumps up and covers her breasts with her arms, causing Jason to jump in panic and turn around to see what’s going on.

“Gabi! What-what the hell are you doing there?!” Y/N cries out in embarrassment. She can feel her cheeks are getting red again.

Gabi slowly gets up from the chair and makes her wave into the kitchen. She finds bottled water in the refrigerator, takes one, and goes back into the living room where Jason and Y/N are still frozen in fear.

“I-I was thirsty,” Gabi answers, even though she knows it sounds like a lame answer. She walks backwards until she reaches the hall. “And-and then I saw you guys, and then I couldn’t stop watching. I’m sorry, Y/N...Jason...”

But before Gabi leaves, she points a finger at Jason and smiles. She even chuckles. “But-but in my defense...he’s really sexy! He’s fucking gorgeous, Y/N, and you’re one lucky bitch! You’re so lucky!”

But Gabi is right about that.

Y/N is lucky...because she has Jason.

#dc comics #dc comics batman #jason todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x y/n smut #red hood #red hood smut #dc comics red hood #dc comics jason todd

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90stvshowgoth · 3 years

Text

—BREAKING & ENTERING

—ch.1 —ch.2

summary: after dabi was seen leaving your apartment complex last week, the commission has sent a lesser known hero to help guard the building until new cameras are installed. however, no security measures in the world could keep dabi out.

w/c: 5064

tags: dubcon, cuckolding, creampie, voyeurism, humiliation, exhibitionism, arson

a/n: this is the final chapter to this little duology, and the reason why its so much shorter is because the first one was really supposed to stand on its own, but i got so many requests for a sequel i couldn’t help it. so i just took the kinks i didn’t get to use last time and pay off some setup and voila. however, just ‘cause this is the last chapter of this story doesn’t mean i’m not gonna write a fuck ton of other stuff for him. ily burn man. plus i’m working on a huge, multi-chapter fic for him while i post smaller one-shots >:) that being said, enjoy.

The impact Dabi left on your life was far bigger than you thought it would’ve been on the night you snuck him away from the law. As he was running from the cops someone saw him climb through your window, and a different person also saw him climb down the fire escape. With witnesses like that, the other tenants were downright furious.

You almost felt bad for the landlord, it wasn’t his fault you were insane enough to willingly let a villain come inside both you and your apartment.

Your landlord and the police department came up with a solution. The apartment complex would be installing new state-of-the-art locks on all fire-escape adjacent windows free of charge. This wasn’t exactly an issue with seeing Dabi again, since all you had to do was purposefully leave yours unlocked.

It would take two weeks to install all the cameras, but until then, a community-assigned hero would be stationed to guard the complex.

His name was Kao, a middle-ranked hero with bright orange hair and a winning smile framed with dimples. At first you thought he might’ve been one of the better heroes, waving you off to work and walking you there the other day, but recently he’d begun to creep you out. The friendly conversations about a tv show you both enjoyed began to turn into invasive questions about your love life.

A week of lingering glances and uncomfortable prying culminated that Friday as he had flat out asked you to dinner moments prior.

“C’mon, I just— I said that wrong, lemme try again,” He stuttered, keeping pace with you as you marched towards the building.

“No, Kao, look, you’re cool and all, but I’m really not looking to date anyone right now.” You huffed, striding into the doorway and towards the elevator. That might not’ve been the whole truth but you obviously couldn’t tell him that you had the hots for a terrorist.

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, “Well you just got off work, right? I remember which room you stay in, maybe I can swing by tonight?”

You whirled on him, your jaw slack in shock at the insensitivity of his words. The reminder that he knew where you lived sending a shiver down your spine, “Kao, this conversation is done. I don’t want you following me around anymore, hero,”

Deep down, your words sounded familiar. If they were raspier and said behind a thin veil of indifference, you might’ve realized that you were talking like Dabi.

“What is that supposed to mean? We’re the good guys!” You slammed your fist down on the close-door button, your mouth a thin line, daring Kao to make a move and stop the doors. He didn’t, and soon the reassuring pull of the elevator set your shaking body at ease.

‘Who does he think he is?’ You were bitter, rightfully so, you think.

You were so frustrated that you had difficulty inserting your keys into the lock, twisting it with a growl and throwing open the door, ready to collapse onto your pillow and vent to whoever was online about your heroic stalker.

When you noticed the scent of cigarettes in the air.

“Hey, doll,” Warmth surged through your chest at the sight of him, the villain’s feet kicked up onto the coffee table.

You were hanging your coat on the hook before moving beside him to the couch, “What took you so long?”

“Not happy to see me? You seem a lot bitchier than I remember,” The crude edge of his humor was a breath of fresh air compared to the stifling niceties of work, and you smiled for what felt like the first time that day.

Shaking your head, you toed out of your boots and made your way to the frayed couch, “I’ll tell you all about him,”

That got his attention, “Him?”

“A hero,” Dabi’s frown worsened, an accusatory look in his eyes, “before you ask, no, you idiot, I hate this guy, there’s not a chance I’d sleep with him.”

The tensity in his shoulders relaxed, bring the half-finished Newport to his lips as you continued, “Since you broke in last week all my neighbors lost their shit. They threatened to sue if my landlord didn’t assign a hero to watch the building for a bit. I thought he was cool, but I’ve just decided that he’s a total prick.”

He hummed, nodding understandingly, “Want me to kill him?”

You gaped, hitting him on the chest, “Wha—No, Dabi, what the hell?”

He just shrugged, the intensity of his words almost funny to you, and as you recounted the last twenty minutes the ashes of Dabi’s cigarette fell to the floor. The dying lights of the sun streamed through your window, the smoke oddly beautiful in the glow as he handed you the last hit of his cheap cigar.

“You know why heroes are like that?” You shook your head, enjoying the numbing calm of tobacco, “It’s cause they’re spoiled. They go their entire lives being praised for everything they do so they don’t know how to take no for a fuckin’ answer,”

Apparently your smoking buddy was feeling talkative, much to your delight. His words made you pause, remembering the relieved faces of your neighbors whenever they’d see the gaudy costume Kao wore as he strode by.

“Shit... guess you’re right,” You mumbled into his side, not minding the ever-present aroma of burnt skin and smoke that clung to Dabi’s coat.

He scoffed, “I’m always right, baby,” His words earning him a pinch on the arm.

“No, you ass, just about the hero stuff,” He grinned, the staples on his dimples taut against his skin as he pulled you closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Careful, doll, you’re starting to sound like a villain,” The drop in your stomach sent heat down your skin, yet somehow you were still shivering under his predatory gaze.

You shook your head, trying to will away the red that dusted your cheeks, “No way, my quirk isn’t strong enough to be a villain,”

He raised his eyebrow expectantly, broadly gesturing for you to go on.

“Well...” God, why is this embarrassing? “I can give people headaches.”

You didn’t know if he would laugh at you or belittle you for your meaningless quirk, but he did neither.

“Think you could practice it more? Get better at it?” He was serious, staring at you and expecting an answer.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze, “I mean, maybe? It’s not hard to do, I guess,”

Dabi smirked, pulling you onto his lap. It felt as if the week hadn’t happened at all and you were right back where you started, your face flushing at the memories of that night. He dragged you close, eyes dark as he whispered something into your ear...

“Think you could split someone’s head open with a migraine?”

Your gut wrenched, flinching at the gory idea and making you sit up in Dabi’s lap. The atmosphere in the room hadn’t changed, his stare as menacing as before.

That is, until he started to crack up. Louder than you’d ever heard before, his fit filled the apartment until he had to cup his stomach from laughing too hard; the wheeze in his rough throat echoing around the room as your blush spread all the way down your neck.

“Oh, you asshole!” If anything, your shove against his chest only made him more giddy. The panic-fueled adrenaline was still surging through your body, unwillingly making the wetness between your thighs spread, even as you tried to wrap your head around the fact that Dabi had been fucking with you.

Your legs shook as he held on to you for balance, his cackling dying down but the shit-eating grin never leaving his face, “You were so freaked out, huh?”

“Yeah, no shit!”

He hummed, running a hand through your hair and suddenly yanking you forward, basking in the sharp yelp it brought from you, “You’re cute when you’re scared,”

You’d missed the way his scabbed lips felt on yours more than you’d ever admit. There was something about him that left you breathless, eager and questioning your life choices. Groaning into his mouth before pulling back and laving your slick tongue along his disfigured lower lip, you rolled your aching heat against him to force a truly pornographic moan from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck—” One of his hands slid down your back, grabbing your ass through your jeans, “Fucking hell, you missed me that much?”

You nodded dumbly into his shoulder, pressing chaste kisses along the ragged skin as he slid his finger past the band of your jeans, cupping your dripping sex with wide eyes.

“Goddamn, s’no way you’re this wet for me already,” His eyes were scrutinizing, trying to figure out why you were hiding into his neck, “What’s got you so worked up, doll?”

You couldn’t come up with a good excuse in time, Dabi thinking back to how your thighs had tightened up when he asked if you could kill someone, your eyes were frightened back then, yes, but there was something else. Something you wouldn’t tell him.

When the realization hit him, it hit hard.

“Holy shit, you get off on being scared?” He couldn’t believe his luck, the embarrassed groan you buried into his shoulder confirming his suspicions.

Dabi ran a hand through his hair, a childish wonder over his features, “Aren’t I fuckin’ lucky?” He sneered, pulling you back til you were at eye-level again.

“I’m gonna try something, baby,” there was an edge to his voice as he settled one hand on the small of your back, pressing your tits against his chest as he held your bra strap back with the other.

“What are you… Dabi, what are you doing?” The scent of fire and burning fabric filled the air, the ends of your bralette smoking between his fingertips, embers turning to ash and sprinkling down the couch until it was flimsy enough for Dabi to rip free, teeth sinking into your neck as he held you still to keep your skin safe.

It was jarring and a bit terrifying to be restrained against someone like Dabi without knowing his intentions. But nothing in you could deny the blinding rush of pleasure it ripped down your spine.

“It’s all starting to make sense, doll-face, I guess I was right the first time,” His hands tossed the smoking bra into hallway, reaching between you and torturously pinching and pulling on the rosy blush of your tits, “you do have a thing for villains,”

“Can’t wait to fuck that tight pussy again, doll,” Without warning he shoved your torso forward, your body bouncing against the couch, his hands flying to the button of your jeans.

“—Didn’t have time to take you right last time, didn’t get to taste you,” his words made you whimper in his grasp, keeping your legs somewhat raised as tugged down the tight denim.

You fully expected him to take you rough like before, make you choke on his cock before having his fill, but as he tugged off your black panties he crawled down the trembling body beneath him, slowly moving over your ribs, your stomach, and finally your drooling cunt.

He never broke eye contact with you as he pulled your thighs closer, keeping them spread wide as the hot fan of his breath on your pussy sent a thrill through your neglected nerves.

“I want you to scream my name,” It was an order, not a request. The unhinged tremor in his hands was unsettling, an unspoken threat hanging in the air.

Dabi’s tongue immediately found your clit, mouth wrapping around the glistening bead and sucking all at once, the moan it drew from your lips unholy. He moaned at the taste, hiking up your hips onto his shoulders.

“Christ, you’re sweet, doll, like fuckin’ candy...” He muttered in disbelief, more to himself that to you, licking a wide stripe along your drenched lips, diving into you deep enough to have your limbs spasming around him.

On instinct your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the sharp cry that the villain drew. He didn’t warn you before bringing his hand up high and slapping it into the bare skin of your thigh, a scream echoing through the living room. Distantly, you wondered if your neighbors could hear...

“Don’t you dare hide a single sound from me, slut, or this ends now,” his ultimatum was scary but the insult felt heavy in a way you’d never felt before, and you nodded without a second thought, breathlessly bunching one hand into the arm of the couch above you and the other into the ashy black of his hair.

You nodded down to him, silently saying to continue; the villain fixed on watching as your chest swelled in time with your breathing, a rush of blood going to the heat of his cock.

His pace was hungry, nipping at your thighs whenever he thought you were too comfortable, spinning circles into your clit with his tongue and chuckling at the noises it brought, “You gonna cum, princess?” You could only respond with a scream of his name, the plea music to his ears, but he needed you to be louder if he was to get what he wanted.

“Louder,” Dabi called your name like a prayer, moaning into your cunt as you practically suffocated him between your thighs, “Fuck—Louder, baby, scream it,”

“Dabi!!” Your orgasm was hot against his tongue and he drank in every last drop of your climax until you were wrenching away his greedy mouth, your pussy swollen and red from his care.

Just as you started to compose yourself, a frantic banging sounded on the door. Someone from the hallway was slamming down their fist, screaming your name.

“Hey! Did you just say Dabi?! Are you okay in there?” It was Kao.

Horror clawed away any kind of afterglow as you cupped your hand to your mouth, leaning up on your elbow and whispering, “What do I say?”

Dabi’s voice was just low enough to hide behind the pounding of Kao’s fists, “Do you trust me?”

Before you could answer the hero behind the wall called your name again.

“If you don’t answer me in five seconds I’m breaking this door down!”

Your gaze flickered from the front door to the villain that was wiping your slick from his chin.

“Yes,”

Dabi grinned, grabbing your wrists and holding you against his shirt, one hand wrapped painfully around your tits and the other erupting with blue fire in his palm.

“Come and get her, hero!” You made a confused squeal, thrashing around in his grasp, eyes wide and afraid as Dabi shushed into your ear, trying to calm you down.

‘Like hell if you’d calm down, he’d practically just signed your death sentence!’ you heaved against the fugitive, trying to shake yourself free to no avail.

All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and imagine you were somewhere else as door was jolted in its hinges, the doorknob falling with a distant clang, and before you could beg Dabi to stop whatever stupid game he was playing, Kao ran into the room, eyes furrowed and fists raised as the door squeaked on the loose hinges behind him, blissfully unaware.

“Where are y—“ Kao’s voice paused mid-sentence, you flinched in Dabi’s hold, the heat of the redhead’s stare washing over you, naked and wet, making you tilt your head down, trying to hide yourself from the world.

“Isn’t she cute, hero?” Dabi rasped against you, the heat of his fire illuminated against the sweaty sheen of your trembling body. Kao didn’t know what to do, flustered and struggling to hide the tent in his latex costume.

You knew fighting back against the villain was pointless, falling limp in the strength of his arms as he chuckled into your neck, looking over at the bump in his pants, “You were right, babe, I think he likes you,”

“Get your filthy hands off of her!” Kao screamed, diving towards the couch with his fist raised back.

Dabi simply grinned, carefully hovering his flame ever closer to your now bare tits, you couldn’t help but scream at the proximity, and whatever plan Kao had in his mind died before his fist could make impact.

His novocaine laced voice spoke calmly beside your ear, “Any closer and she’s dead,” The hot rush down your legs wasn’t due to his flames, as one hand took to rubbing your sensitive sex, the sounds it elicited from you unintentional and mortifying under the presence of Kao in the room.

“What... what do you want, you bastard?” Dabi laughed at that one, tweaking your clit between his fingers and conducting the most beautiful notes from your pillowy lips.

“I think It’s pretty obvious what I want, don’t you think?” Your name on his lips sent you keening against him despite the inferno roaring inches away from your skin. He couldn’t move without Dabi’s flames hovering ever closer to your heaving chest, and to Kao, you were very clearly about to die. Although you didn’t believe Dabi would hurt you, he had asked you to trust him before he got Kao’s attention, after all, the line between foreplay and conflagration was becoming blurry.

Kao backed up into the half wall that separated the living room from the kitchen, barely making an effort to try and hide his erection anymore, “I’ll send you to fucking Tartarus for this, Dabi.”

“Oooo, scary,” His unlit hand trailed down your jawline, tilting you to his side until he could slide his tongue into your open lips, humming into your mouth, “What do you think, doll?

“Dabi, please... wait,“ The strength in your voice wasn’t as heated as before, and even you had to admit it sounded half-assed.

Kao’s quirk must be no good for long range because all he could do was stand there, trying to avert his eyes from your drooling cunt in favor of glaring daggers at the coy villain pulling soft mewls from your lips, “I swear... I’ll see you rot in prison for this. You’ll be fucking executed, you rapist—“

“—woah, woah, that stings, hero. Doll, is that really what I’m doin’?” You groaned, not exactly answering because you couldn’t hear the question, your eyes still shut tight in embarrassment.

The growl in his voice sent another soaking rush towards your pussy, as his hand grabbed you jaw, pulling you up, “Look at me,” Your eyes widened at the sight of Dabi so close to you, his chest warm against your back, the aches of your last orgasm fading into something new.

“Tell me to stop, princess, your call,” Time stood still as Dabi kissed a soft pathway along your neck, weirdly gentle as he listened for your response, his clothed hard-on pressed firmly against your ass.

Too flustered to speak, you merely wrenched your arm free from his grasp, carding you hand through his hair and pulling him to your desperate lips. You could feel him tug into a smirk against you as your hips eagerly ground themselves on him despite the audience.

Kao choked on his own spit, stepping backwards, but stopped when Dabi aimed his ignited hand towards the hero who was having difficulty piecing together your actions in his head. “What,” His voice cracked when he called out your name, “are you...?”

Dabi pulled away, a feral glint in the blue hidden beneath his hair as he licked a disgustingly wet stripe along your cheek, chest rumbling behind you as you squirmed at the gross feeling, “I’m still gonna need you to beg, sweetheart.”

Your dignity was hanging by a thread, hinging on whether or not you followed his lead, but the insane buzz your anxiety had stirred up under Kao’s confused stare and Dabi’s aching cock was impossible to ignore. He rut himself into the dripping curve of your ass, his jeans soaked with your slick as you found the courage to speak.

“Fuh...” Carefully, Dabi pressed a loving kiss to your temple, his stare fixated on Kao’s as you strung the syllables together, “Fuck me, Dabi,”

The hero couldn’t believe his ears. She’d turned him down countless times despite his pursuits, yet she was somehow fine with this? Kao briefly thought that perhaps his crush was a villain this whole time, but that couldn’t make sense with her weak quirk.

You felt Dabi twitch beneath you, the shameless way you showed yourself off was as humiliating as it was hot, and he laughed in lightheaded disbelief against the back of your neck, taking your ass in one hand and slipping the other down his pants, tugging off the painful metal zipper until his boxers were pulled down just enough for his cock to finally be met with the soft warmth of your cunt.

“As the lady commands,” Dabi grinned, reaching around your waist to take his pierced dick in his hand, rubbing and tapping his swollen head deliberately against your clit, pre-cum drenching your pussy as you felt boneless in his arms.

“Ah-! St..S-top tea-sing, Dabi!” You babbled, squirming to try and find an escape from his grasp or maybe trying to force him inside you, but all your struggling did was make him harder. But before you could beg, you froze at the sight of Kao a few feet away, his legs bending into a sprinter’s pose. He was going to run?

Dabi was having none of it, a controlled jet of flame grazing Kao’s knee, scalding the skin beneath the latex. The hero cried out into the bite of his fist, collapsing into the wall a few feet away.

“Nah, hero. You’re not leaving just yet,” The villain rearranged you on his lap, “See, the thought of you jerking off to my girl? It kinda pisses me off, actually,”

The color in Kao’s face drained as he had no choice but to sit and watch as Dabi slowly sunk you down on top of him, one hand drawing soft circles into your stomach as you reveled in the feeling of his piercings hot against every part of you.

“Though, I’m wondering, what did you think about, huh?” Kao sputtered, unable to form words just like you, formless noises falling from your lips.

His scarred hands grasped at the flesh of your thighs, raising you up only to shove you back onto his cock, the flames that still extended to threaten Kao suddenly flared up in time with his thrusts, the weight of him felt so much deeper at this angle and it was hard to breathe, let alone speak.

“I... nothing! I didn’t—“ Another whip of fire cut through the room from Dabi’s fingertips, a cast of blue leaving bubbling skin in its wake, pain flashing across Kao’s face.

“Fuckin’ liar,” You yelped as Dabi shoved you down, moaning into your ear as you squeezed against him, sobbing his name into his chest as he picked up a steady pace in your guts.

Kao cried out, stuttering and gripping along the inflamed line of skin, “I-I thought— thought about her... fuck— I just wanted her to suck me off, alright? There, I said it! Are you happy now?”

He must’ve realized the mistake in his words as soon as he said them, squeezing your eyes shut but having no choice but to smell the stench of burning flesh and hear the sound of muffled screaming as it filled your apartment, “Can’t blame you though, her mouth is God,”

Your hands scrambled for balance against Dabi as the screaming of his victim made him downright feral, filling your tight heat so well it had you crying.

“Damn, you’re soaked for me, doll, I just knew you were a kinky fuck deep down. You’re a slutty little girl for me, aren’t ya?”

As much as it hurt to admit it, he was right. He was painfully right, and you told him so. The unhinged, unstoppable force that was Dabi ignited a passion in you that’d never been fed before. He was torturing the hero you hated all while taking your cunt in deep, harsh thrusts, the metal imbedded into his cock and his chest behind you were blisteringly hot against your skin.

“Tell him, baby,” His question fell on deaf ears, your tongue lolling from your mouth a bit at the pleasure.

It caught you off guard when he drew his hand back and slapped you across the cheek, a blistering red handprint in its wake, saying your name so softly, turning off his quirk to run his hands through your hair, he whispered, “Tell that fucking hero who you belong to,”

The world tipped over as Dabi gripped your shoulders, pushing you onto the wooden coffee table so your ass stuck in the air. In an instant he was on you again, pounding into your cunt with a glazed fervor, your words downright biblical in his ears.

“On-ly... Dabi ca—Ngh, Only Dabi can fuck me this good,” You forced the words from your throat, thankful for the table serving as an impartial shoulder to cry on as Dabi lined himself up with your cunt.

“More, princess,” The snap of his hips had you drooling onto the table, catching sight of Kao’s slumped body in the corner as Dabi’s breath sounded much louder than before.

“Fuck, baby—” You cried, craning your neck back to look at him. Sweat glistened at the crown of his dark hair, steam shading his breath as he took you hard, “Your cock is— shit its so deep in me,”

Your nerves were spent from exhaustion as he railed you, being more vocal than before as he choked at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, his fingernails digging future bruises into your hip dips, “Wanna feel you cum in me, want you to fill me up— Dabi, wanna make you feel good,”

“Fuck, doll, I can’t...” He ground his teeth together, making you squeal as he mounted you from behind, spreading your legs out wide so you had no way to hide yourself, “Gonna fuck’n cum-gonna cum in you- fuck, fuck, fuck—!“

You both hit your highs at the same time, Dabi accidentally digging your face into the wood as he held you as tightly to him as possible, his cum running hot due to his quirk as he pumped you full, that broken cry of yours like music to his ears, humping you a few times to ride out his climax.

You felt warm and safe, Dabi’s weight a comfortable blanket even with your shivering skin pressed naked into the coffee table. However, the quietly groaning hero in the corner made you quickly come back down to earth.

“Dabi... did you kill him?” Your voice was small beneath him, but he just shrugged.

“Nah, not yet, don’t worry,” He kissed your neck one more time, his thumb rubbing circles into your indented stomach, pulling you off the table and back into his arms.

He pulled out of you and grinned at the sight of his release spilling down your thighs, “Damn...” he whispered, taking in the sight with a satisfied whistle, “C’mon Doll, forget about him.”

You were grateful he carried you bridal style to your bedroom, your legs gelatin at this point, and as he laid you down to rest he grabbed one of your discarded shirts that hadn’t made it to the hamper and wiped down the remains of sex from your twitching cunt before leaving the cum-stained top ignored on the ground.

“You doing good, baby? Didn’t go too hard, did I?” His concern was diminished somewhat by the grin on his face, satisfied with the mumbling, love-drunk form he’d reduced you to.

Shaking your head, you burrowed into the warm blankets, peeking your eyes out from beyond the covers in a way that even Dabi couldn’t deny was pretty cute, “No, just... what are you gonna do with Kao?”

His face was unreadable as he leaned closer, “Do you really want to know?”

Truth be told, no, you didn’t, you were just a civilian, far removed from the complex fight between heroes and villains. You were only in this situation because you’d grown to care about Dabi. In some small, sarcastic way, he’d wormed his way into your life, and he hadn’t hurt you so far, only going as close as possible to bring you over the edge again and again.

“No...”

“Good answer,” he stood up, tucking himself back into his jeans as he went back into the living room. You heard a muffled thud and what sounded like Dabi cursing before he reappeared in your bedroom, Kao’s unconscious body slung over his shoulder. For such a wiry guy, Dabi was pretty strong. Moving to the open window he basically threw Kao’s body onto the outside metal grating, his lungs uneven after carrying him.

Just as he swung his leg onto the windowsill you shot up in your bed, hand outstretched, “Wait!”

He turned back to look at you, genuinely confused as to what you could want.

“Kiss me before you go?”

He froze, then grinned, scoffing at the innocent gesture you gave so openly to a murderer like him. There had to be something wrong with his little villain-in-training to make her okay with it, just like him. Dabi ignored that thought for another day, striding forward and finally giving you the goodbye kiss you’d been denied last time, his tongue trying to map out every detail in case he could ever forget before pulling away with a warm softness to his ocean eyes.

“I think I might be starting to like you, Doll,” A feint rush of color fell on his unmarred skin and you’re sure your heart stopped beating for a good three seconds.

His words were a worn record being played over and over in your head long after he crawled down your fire escape, the teasing, sated haze in his voice hidden beneath a rasp of smoke. You weren’t sure how much he meant what he said, but you’re sure that the first thing you said in return was exactly what he wanted to hear; at least judging from the boyish smile that lit up his face when you said it.

“Come back soon, okay?”

“Okay,”

@effmigentlywithachainsaw @touyasfatcock @thicchaikyuuboys @awritersometimes @chey-the-simp

#dabi x reader #dabi #dabi x reader smut #dubcon #murder #mha #my hero academia #dabi smut #touya x reader #touya todoroki

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mochegato · 3 years

Text

Calling Dibs

This day was going to be boring, Jason knew that before he agreed to the trip in the first place. ‘Agreed’ is a generous term. ‘Relented’ might be a better term. Regardless, he was in Paris for the next week. He was looking forward to the Louvre and seeing Notre Dame, but he was expected to spend time with his family for a large part of the trip and end with a branch opening party, because those are always so much fun.

He had barely plopped onto the hotel couch when something went flying past the building, crashing into the building down the street in a cacophony of shattered glass and warped metal. “Holy shit!” Jason yelled, jumping up and running to the window to assess the situation. The family looked to each other to see if anyone had a better grasp of the situation. Everyone shared the same confounded expression, before running out on the balcony to check out the situation.

Bruce sighed. This was most definitely not part of the plans. This was supposed to be a relaxing week with the family looking at art for Damian, going up in the Eiffel Tower (and preventing him from jumping off) for Duke, sampling French foods and checking out French fashion for Steph, exploring the catacombs for Tim, attending the ballet for Cass, visiting Notre Dame for Jason, and time together as a family for Dick, with just a side of meetings for him. Superheroing was not one of the scheduled activities.

Bruce opened his mouth to state a plan, but before the words made it past his lips, blurs of red and black swung past them toward the creature that had destroyed the building. It took more than a few minutes for him to finally close his mouth in a resolute line as they watched the two heroes fight. Jason’s mouth stayed open in awe as he watched the red figure expertly dodge and strike the creature. It stayed open until the creature backhanded the red hero into a wall of the building across the street.

The group flinched in sympathy at the sight, all too familiar with the feeling of getting smashed into a building. She fell to the ground in a crouch. Instead of fear, she looked back up with a glare. She jumped away and landed next to her partner in black and seemed to have a conversation before separating. The black hero distracted the creature while she swung further away. It almost seemed like she had run away until they saw her charge at the creature from the side, hitting circles that decorated its body, shattering them like mirrors as she went. With each hit the creature seemed to deflate more, until she hit the last one, a black butterfly emerging from it.

She captured it in her yoyo and released it almost instantly as a white butterfly. She called something out and threw her yoyo up into the air. As soon as she did, a pinkish red wave rushed across the city and suddenly all the damage they had watched with their own eyes, was reset to its previous condition.

They stared, mouths agape again, trying to take in everything they saw. Finally the silence was broken by Jason. “I call dibs!”

“What!” Dick exclaimed. “You can’t just call dibs on someone.”

“I just did,” Jason scoffed. “I call dibs on the red badass. You can have the cat one. Follow B’s footsteps, protégé.”

“You don’t even know if she’s straight. What if she’s into girls?” Stephanie objected. “Maybe they both are.”

Jason stared at her for a second before his eyes narrowed. “Fine. But if she’s anything other than a lesbian or ace, I have dibs. And the cat one is up for grabs.”

“Oh, I’ll grab,” Steph smirked.

“Fine, whatever,” Dick groused, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. “Wasn’t looking for romance this trip anyway.”

“Your libido is not the priority right now. Father, did you bring us here for this?” Damian demanded.

Bruce kept his eyes on the spot where the creature had been a few seconds earlier before turning into a distraught woman. “No, I had no idea. But now that we know, let’s investigate. We’ll find out as much as we can from outside sources and try to meet up with the heroes when we can. If they have a regular patrol, we can try to meet them somewhere. If they don’t, we might have to try to show up discretely at the next attack.” He observed the people below already returning to their normal jobs. “It doesn’t seem like this is too out of the ordinary for everyone, so I don’t think we’ll have to wait long.”

He wasn’t wrong. In fact, they only had to wait until the next night for another akuma to strike. As soon as the akuma was dealt with, they caught up with the Parisian heroes, though in hindsight, they perhaps should have announced their presence a bit more clearly, judging by the way Red Hood was hanging upside down off the side of the building they were on.

“Sorry again,” Ladybug grimaced as she helped pull him back onto the roof.

“No, we shouldn’t have snuck up on you,” Red Hood assured her. “I was just struck too speechless by you to give you a better warning.”

Ladybug blinked at him a few times before turning to the rest of the group and motioning toward Red Hood helplessly. Chat gave her an amused smile. “She tends to have that effect even on the best of us.”

“As Red Hood said, we should have announced our presence more plainly. We likely would have reacted the same if you had snuck up on one of us,” Batman said, taking a step forward.

“We just wouldn’t have looked as kick ass doing it,” Red Hood added, leaning toward Ladybug.

Ladybug raised an eyebrow at him, but allowed him to move closer to her. “Well, you certainly didn’t look ‘kick ass’ falling like that,” she smirked at him.

“I’ll work on how I look when falling, then. I have a feeling I’m going to be falling a lot for you.”

Ladybug narrowed her eyes at him and puckered her lips in an unsuccessful effort to keep them from quirking up. Red Hood’s chest puffed up almost imperceptibly at the sight. Ladybug’s eyes darted over to Batman and back to him. “First, I don’t think you came all the way to Paris just to hit on me. I believe we have other things to talk about. Second, if you’re going to hit on someone, take off the helmet. It’s rude. I can’t read your expressions at all. It puts me at a disadvantage.”

Red Hood quirked his head to the side. “Can’t take the helmet off. Secret identity, you know? B would kill me. If he didn’t the squirt there,” he motioned toward Robin, “would try. But trust me, if you saw my face, you’d swoon. And I assure you, I would have come all the way to Paris if I’d known you were here waiting.”

“But we didn’t know you were here,” Batman cut in harshly. He placed a hand on Red Hood’s shoulder and pulled him back with the others. “We were unaware there was a supervillain in Paris. We’d like to offer assistance, ours and the Justice League’s, but first we should introduce ourselves. I’m Batman. That’s Spoiler, Black Bat, Signal, Robin, Red Robin, Nightwing,” he motioned to each of them in turn as he said their name. “And you’ve met Red Hood.”

Ladybug and Chat nodded to each of them as Batman said their names. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’m Ladybug. This is my partner Chat Noir.”

“Sorry, we didn’t bring our full team. We would have if we’d known there was going to be a party,” Chat smiled disarmingly.

“We’ll be sure to let you know next time,” Spoiler grinned back at him.

“Can we sit down with you sometime to discuss the situation?” Red Robin interrupted whatever Chat was about to respond with. “It doesn’t have to be tonight, but we weren’t planning on staying in town too much longer. Not that we haven’t been enjoying our time here. And we’ve definitely enjoyed watching you work. You have got some really good moves.”

“Oi,” Jason interrupted, smacking him in the shoulder. “I called dibs.”

“Dibs?” Ladybug quirked her head to the side and scrunched up her nose in such an adorable way Jason let out an almost inaudible choke. Quiet enough that only Red Robin, letting out an almost as silent scoff, and Chat Noir, with his enhanced hearing, heard him. Chat zeroed in on him with a knowing smirk. He rested his arm on his baton and got into a comfortable position leaning against it, waiting for the entertainment. “What is ‘dibs’?” Ladybug continued, oblivious to the dynamic between the three.

Chat’s smirk grew. “Dibs, M’lady, is when you claim first rights to do something.”

Ladybug stared at him for a few seconds as she put together what he was implying. Her head whipped around to Red Hood. Her face was furrowed in an offended scowl. She pointed to herself. “Am I the thing you’re going to do first?”

Jason jerked back at the suggestion as Chat Noir and the rest of his family, sans Batman and Robin, started laughing. “No! No, no, no. No. Not… No.” He waved his arms desperately. “Not that. I…” He took a breath and glared at his family to get them to shut up, expecting them to know he was glaring harshly under his helmet. “I just get to be the first to try to impress you.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes. “You want to impress me? Do something impressive. And I don’t date as a superhero, so you’re going to have to impress civilian me. Good luck with that.”

Chat gave Red Hood a patronizing grin. “You’re going to need it,” he singsonged. He looked back and forth between Ladybug and Red Hood a few times, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He swung his baton over his shoulders and rested his arms over it. “But then again, she is the embodiment of luck so, maybe she just gave it to you.”

Ladybug’s head whipped back to him and she narrowed her eyes at him in warning. He smiled innocently back at her as if he hadn’t just been meddling in her love life… again. He needed to meddle in his own instead. Although, with the way Spoiler kept eying him, maybe it was already taken care of. “Anyway,” she said loudly, bringing the focus back to the topic at hand. “Tonight isn’t good. We both have early mornings tomorrow. But tomorrow night should work. How about meeting here tomorrow at 22h?”

“Okay, now that that is settled, I have a very important question,” Spoiler spoke up. Signal groaned next to her, preparing for whatever her question was going to be. “Where is the best place to get some French treats?” Batman let out a deep sigh. “What! I came to France to eat amazing French food and shop French fashion. They live here. They should know the good places to go.”

Chat straightened up immediately and sent Ladybug a feral grin. “You don’t say…”

“Chat,” Ladybug hissed warningly.

“They’re just asking for advice,” he answered in his most exaggeratedly innocent voice he could muster. “You wouldn’t want to deprive them of the best food in Paris. Would you, M’lady?” The devilish grin in his eyes was a complete contrast to the innocent voice. He turned back to the bats, the picture of politeness. “The absolute best place to get pastries in Paris is Tom and Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie on Rue Gotlib. It’s amazing. I recommend trying… everything. And it just so happens their daughter is one of the most amazing designers in… anywhere.”

Spoiler grinned at him. “A man after my own heart. Thanks, Kitty Cat. I’ll take that under advisement. And do you also frequent there?”

Chat blushed slightly and looked away quickly, but not before Ladybug saw the reaction and smirked at him. “Yes, he does,” she assured Spoiler. “He frequently frequents there.”

“And what about you?” Red Hood interjected, leaning toward Ladybug again, much to Batman’s chagrin.

“Are you kidding? She’s the reason I found it in the first place. I swear she’s there daily,” Chat grinned.

“Ooh, Kitty Cat, you sure know the way to a girl’s heart,” Spoiler purred at him. Chat’s cheeks burned red, but didn’t look away from her this time.

Ladybug pursed her lips in annoyance at his romantic interference but quickly smoothed out at the sight of his blush. A smile was back on her face when she turned back to the Bats, eyes lingering a bit longer on Red Hood before moving to Batman. “Anyway, we will see you again tomorrow. But Chat, maybe you should get an idea of what Spoiler likes so you can bring treats for her to the meeting tomorrow. I have to go though.” She waved at the bats before turning to Chat with a wink. “Have a good night.”

Red Hood stepped forward before she jumped away. “You don’t want to know what I like for tomorrow?” he asked huskily.

She looked up at him with a sultry smirk. “Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea of what you like. Sweet dreams.”

Red Hood watched her jump away. “Oh they will be,” he whispered to himself.

<><><><><>

Marinette had been apprehensive all morning. Every time the bell above the door rung, she braced for the bats. She let out a relieved breath as a man walked in by himself. She wasn’t positive, but she was pretty sure the group would come in together. She wasn’t sure why she knew that, but somehow she was confident of it. The man blinked a few times at her before smiling charmingly at her.

And damn if that smile couldn’t melt ice. She let out another breath, this one to calm her cheeks. She smiled at him, warmer than her regular customer service smile. “Can I help you, monsieur?”

“Do you, by any chance, have a bowl or something I can put some water in?” he asked awkwardly in barely accented French. The cocked head and curious look Marinette gave him prompted him to continue. “I wanted to… there’s this stray dog outside and he looks like he needs some water.”

American, she noted… with dimensions roughly matching Red Hood’s. And oh God, those muscles weren’t just the suit. Well fuck. Guess she did give him some luck after all. “Of course he’s fucking Adonis hot,” she muttered under her breath, but apparently not quietly enough. He smirked at her and chuckled.

Marinette’s eyes snapped up to him and she blushed furiously at having gotten caught. She took a deep breath and smiled back at him. “Blonde with a dark stripe down his back?” He nodded at her, a surprised look on his face. “That’s Éclair. He’s a local stray. An absolute sweetheart. Here, let me get the bowl I usually use for him.” She rushed to the back and came back with a filled dog bowl and some pancetta. “Can you give him this too, please? I usually do, but I’ve been stuck inside most of the morning.”

He gave her another ice meltingly brilliant smile and nodded in thanks.

She tensed at the next man who walked in, not really knowing why she was apprehensive. Red Hood was already there. She gave him her customer service smile even as her eyes darted out the window to watch Red Hood feeding Éclair. She could imagine the hearty laugh he let out when Éclair leaped up to lick his face. She smiled at the sight.

“Excuse me,” the man stepped into her line of sight.

She immediately turned to focus on him, regretfully tearing her eyes away from Red Hood and Éclair. “Yes, monsieur. Sorry about that. How can I help you?”

The man looked her up and down and leaned toward her. “I was looking for something sweet. Maybe you could help me.”

She cringed internally, but gave him a strained smile as she leaned away. “Of course, sir. We have a lot of sweet treats. Maybe you can look over the petit fours, éclairs, macarons, and tartlets. Let me know if you have any questions.”

“I have a question already,” the man gave her a leering smile. “Are any of the treats as sweet as you?”

She gave him a flat look and took a step back. She almost missed the door chime ringing. “I assure you, monsieur, you would find me far from sweet. Let me know when you’re ready to order.” She turned away and started wiping the counter instead.

Red Hood took the opportunity to step up to her and pass the bowl back to her. “Thank you. He looked very happy after the treats.”

Marinette blinked at him a few times and looked down at the bowl unmoving for a few seconds before the reason clicked for her. “Right,” she answered, louder than she meant to, as she took the bowl. “Can I get you anything?”

“What do you recommend?” he asked as he moved to block the other man’s line of sight to her.

She smiled appreciatively at him. Maybe he was impressive after all. “You looking for something sweet or savory? We have great bread, but if you’re looking for a treat, I would recommend an assortment of eclairs. It just seems apropos. Honestly, I think it’s all good, but I’m a bit biased.” She leaned in as if confiding a secret and winked at him.

He chuckled and nodded. “That is definitely something to consider.” He side eyed the other man in the store. “I’ll take a look around I think. Figure out what it is I want.”

Marinette nodded and gave him an understanding smile. She turned to the other man. “Have you decided, monsieur?”

The man made a show of looking around. “Are you on the menu? Because I definitely know what I’m interested in,” the man answered, leering at her again.

Marinette gave the man a flat look. It was not the first time she’d heard the line. She didn’t get it as much as waitresses, but still, it was a tired line… from a married man… that she had already turned down. “No, sir. I’m not on the menu,” she answered curtly, “because we are not a brothel, which are illegal in Paris, I might add. However, a quick internet search will direct you to the areas of the city where you can find that kind of menu items. If you would like one of the pastries, please let me know which ones you would like, otherwise, please leave.”

“I’m not good enough for you, but you’ll flirt with him,” he motioned toward civilian Red Hood.

“First, I get to choose who I’m interested in and that isn’t you. Second, he,” she motioned toward civilian Red Hood, “called dibs on flirting with me. Now either order or leave.”

The man huffed and left, trying to slam the door on the way out. The door closed with a gentle thud. Marinette rolled her eyes. “Sorry about that, monsieur. Are you ready to order?” She sent him an apologetic smile.

Jason stared at her for a few beats trying to figure out if her previous words meant anything. She could have just said that because the guy was an asshole. It could be a coincidence. And her partner could have sent him here purely because they had really good food. “Oh, um… what do you recommend I take?” he asked again absentmindedly, his mind still on how likely it was that it was all a coincidence.

Marinette smiled innocently at him. “Me out.”

Jason looked at her wide eyed. “What?”

“You asked what I recommended you take. I recommend you take me out,” she shrugged nonchalantly, but the grin was devilish.

Jason opened his mouth and closed it again. “Any other day, beautiful. Any other day I’d say yes, but I’m kind of working on someone else and I’m a one woman man.”

Marinette looked at him for a few seconds, a brilliant smile beaming at his response.

“Thanks for helping out, Sweetie,” her mom called coming from the back room. “I think we have it covered now. Oh,” she looked up at Jason, then at Marinette’s smile, and back to Jason. She smirked at the two. “I think you should be able to take off now, get to your real job.”

Marinette nodded and took her apron off, stowing it under the counter. “Thanks, Maman.” She leaned up and kissed her cheek before making her way around the counter. Jason turned to her as she walked out, watching her as she moved. She paused a few feet in front of him. “I have to admit, you impressed me after all.”

She smiled sweetly at him before moving to the door. She turned back at the last second, twirling to face him. “But you flirted much better with the helmet.” She winked at him and disappeared through the door.

Her mom chuckled before clearing her throat. “Anything I can help you with, dear?”

Jason turned to her blankly, still processing what Marinette had said, after a second he smiled and rushed to the door. “No, thank you ma’am. I have some dibs to collect on.”

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver

#maribat #jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #prompt - design

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missgeniality · 3 years

Text

A Work Of Art (m)

“In our life there is a single color, as on an artist’s palette, which provides the meaning of life and art. It is the color of love.” - Marc Chagall

➺ Banner: The lovely @dee-ehn 💕

➺ Pairing: Jimin x Female Reader

➺ Genre: PWP, Smut, Slightest Angst

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 7.3k

➺ Summary: You surprise Jimin with his Filter outfit; and then some.

➺ Warnings: tongues get tired in this fic, dom!jimin, we talk about spit, some biting, jimin loves praise, lingerie n stuff, nipple play, oral sex (m&f receiving), we talk more about spit, some bondage is involved, degrading names, blindfolds, spanking (maybe too much, don’t look @ me), light choking, light face-fucking, cum eating, we talk even more about spit, hickeys galore, some edging?, unprotected sex (don’t do it kids, not even for Jimin)

➺ Author’s Note: (repost bc tags, you know how it is) huge s/o to @ilikemesometaetaes for making time to beta read this monstrosity 💜 thank youuuu! Also thanks to @honeiibeehobi, @kithtaehyung for helping me with the many many details & @ppersonnafor hyping up this idea or else it would have never seen the light of day ;_; lol i will come back to edit this cuz this didnt let me focus on my paper due tonight so if you see a spelling mistake or tense error umm no you didnt 👀

do let me know your thoughts!! the smallest feedback goes a long way! 💛💛

This is the first part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

Y/N: soooooo, I did a thing. JM: is the dishwasher flooding our kitchen again? Y/N: -_- i’ll give you two more guesses. JM: oh no. you picked up a dog from the street again. Y/N: come onn!! JM: y/n, last time you picked one up, HE HAD AN OWNER Y/N: you’re down to your last try, or else i’m taking this off. JM: … JM: so its something you have on? 😏 Y/N: pic_210124.jpg JM: holy shit JM: wait wait fuck JM: keep the door unlocked.

“You like?”

The bob in his Adam’s apple wordlessly conveys the answer you’re looking for.

A crisp, white, button down shirt, tucked into black trousers, topped off with a panama hat that matches your top half is the view Jimin comes home to. Your dress pays homage to Jimin’s Filter outfit - actually, the exact one - the one that showcased his immaculate dance moves, the one that exposes his delicious collarbones, the one that brings the irresistible urge to bite your way up his neck - the one he eventually rids.

If you had to pick a color, he is a flustered orange, bright and blushing, turned on by the indecent implication of your very decent outfit.

You’re on the counter, one leg crossed over the other, accentuating the swell of your ass. Landing on the pads of your feet, you take a few steps towards the man with the unhinged jaw.

“Babe.” a mellow croak - Jimin can’t get a whole sentence out without saliva pooling and obstructing his speech. “You, in my clothes… fuck.”

Chuckling at his very obvious loss of words, you give him a twirl, allowing him to fully soak in your outfit.

“Was waiting for you.”

Three long strides and you were in his arms, a pair of lips desperate to invade your space and claim you. An Angel on your shoulder tells you to give in; after all, this is the end result - what you both want.

However, the Devil on the other side, no no no. It wants you to make him suffer. To get revenge for all the times you were taken control of. It remembers all the days he turned you on with shoot photographs and all the nights he brought you to the brink only to stop you from tipping over with a cocky smirk and a cheeky wink.

The Devil was created from the moments when you thought you would actually erupt, begging for release, only to be shoved aside with a single growl of ‘don’t you fucking dare.’

Your desire to please him effectively silenced the Devil and kept it at bay. But no more. All those times built up and gave your Devil the power to force its way against your will to restrain it, causing it to rise to the surface.

You will have the upper hand.

So you push him away, keeping him at an arm’s length for your safety to have him on his toes. Forlorn eyes meet your steely ones, and you physically stop yourself from giving in to his puppy gaze - those eyes can turn icy and sultry when nailing you into the bed like his rent depended on it.

“Sit there. I have a-” You turn to switch on some music, “-small present for you.”

“If the small present isn’t me folding you in half and fucking you till sunrise,” He sits with visible reluctance, irises slowly transforming into magma orbs, “I don’t want it.”

“Well, we’ll see… Depends on how you behave.”

On a normal day, this comment would have lit your ass on fire, pronto.

Today isn’t a normal day at all.

You stride on, every noiseless step you take leaving a wreckage of nerves behind, ignoring the smoldering gaze he has locked on you- you are unsure whether he is deciding your punishment or simply admiring how his clothes fit on your body.

You stand on the side, drinking him in.

From your viewpoint, this is ridiculous. Those cursed jeans, vacuumed onto his thighs, ensure your eyes don’t miss a single ridge. His legs are spread out, beckoning you to have a seat, and the Angel once again begs for some reprieve. He knows what he’s doing; knows you inside and out- knows you couldn’t miss a chance to ride him like this. The wicked smirk flashing back at you is confirmation.

But you stymy that thought at its root. Walking behind, you wrap your arms around him to faintly buss his cheek.

“Sooo I was watching Filter…”

Jimin hums against your feeble touch. He wants more. The soft wind of your breath routing through his jeweled ear sends a wave of goosebumps down his spine. From behind, you run your hands over his sinewy biceps, taut in restraint - holding themselves back against the suffering you are putting him through.

“You do know how fucking hot you looked, right?” You playfully let your tongue toy with the hanging ornament, the briefest of flicks causing Jimin’s shoulders to push back, trying to connect with your bosom.

With a crooked finger under his jaw, you bring him to meet your eyes- eyes that are adorned with layered shadows of deep maroons, a variety of colors blending into your skin tone, eyelashes piqued up and ready to reach the clouds.

“So pretty…” He whispers out as you place your hat on its rightful throne - Jimin’s head.

A lone digit traces the lines of art you etched for him, appreciating every single stroke you put in to make a memorable time. Warm merigold rays bloom in your chest in response to his gaze, with him looking at you like you invented the sky. Pupils are dilated, and the only reason you can see each other is because of the practically nonexistent distance between you.

His eyes pick up on your tapering resolve to keep him in line. A light quiver of need passing your lips as you hopelessly vie for dominance is what most likely gives you away.

Grabbing you by the neck, he pulls you into a deep kiss, plunging his tongue into you with reckless abandon like he was a nomad all this while and your mouth has finally claimed him home. Your neck strains at the awkward angle and surely even his is hurting, but the pressure of his hand is unrelenting.

His tongue searches and searches, desperately looking for a part in you he has not yet explored. You’d think the years of togetherness would have diminished this fiery attraction but no, he comes onto you like he has a mission to prove - to validate his love for you, to plead you to be his. You would happily accept this shower of affection, returning it with due interest.

With great difficulty you part, a string of spit still connecting your lips because he has not let you move far enough. “Uh-uh. Be good.” You pout a little, breaking character.

“You’re here. In my clothes. A walking dream. How the fuck am I to be good?” He pulls you back in to continue what you cut short but you break the line of spit and his intention with a hand wedged between your faces.

“I asked you a question, Mister.” Back on your cocky nature, you graze your lips against oh-so-lightly, barely giving him anything to feel, but the tingling on his skin shows he can feel it all.

The adoration moves into a competition, “You tell me, sweetness - how did I look?”

It’s always the praise. He loves it when you struggle to tell him his dick was crafted by the heavens when you’re choking on it, but he still makes you do it. You stutter and stumble your words when his lips smack against your cunt, devouvering and digging for the treasure of your cum, but he forces you to tell him. When you sit on his dick, your brain has no sense of diction or direction, only chasing the high at his mercy, but he makes you scream it out loud, letting everyone beyond the pearly gates know, between moans and wails, that only he can break you down this way.

“This shirt, sweetie.” Your nose trails the path between his collar and the ends of his hair, basking in the sweet vanilla scent, “You’re all covered. Why, pray tell,” You dig your teeth into the point where his shoulder meets his neck, “does this sole patch of skin turn me on so bad?”

He sucks in an inhale through his clenched teeth, his stunning visage devoid of any virtue. His head is thrown back, hat toppling over in the movement and giving you a larger canvas to mark, an opportunity you happily grasp. The mellifluous tones he is producing is recorded in your mind for lonelier nights to come.

“And the red suit? Fuck, your corseted waist?” At the corner of your eye you see his fingers clenching into a fist, your lush voice making it harder and harder for him to breathe.

You slowly stride forward, painfully slow, letting him notice every single muscle of your body curving to his unspoken command, undoing one button at a time until your torso is revealed- and shows the true purpose of your scarlet eye makeup.

A deep burgundy camisole, ribbed at the waist to accentuate the way your hips flow has Jimin salivating to no end. The strappy number, with carmine ribbons flowing into your yet to be removed bottom half- a deed Jimin intends on rectifying very, very soon- calls to him sinfully. The lingerie twists and ties in incomprehensible ways, but the amount of cleavage it gives you is ungodly.

If they weren’t already, Jimin’s eyes are now wide open.

Time comes to a standstill as he checks out your whole figure, taking in every embroidered pattern on the lingerie and every embellishment on your breasts. Before, you were already a five-star meal, but now? An emperor’s feast.

The little flower right on top of your nipple has Jimin’s attention. His thumb comes up to trace the bedecked rose, following the stitched line of stem that takes him to the peak, then drawing over petal by petal. Each time he reaches close to your hardened nub, he abstains from crossing over it, making your nipple hardens imperceptibly under the presentiment of any relief and the disappointment when nothing arrives. His other hand, sitting on your waist, coaxes you to straddle him while he plays gardner on your bust.

“Jimin…” Your nipple, finally finding solace under his thumb, is not faring too well under the attention. Your plan of teasing him is slipping through your fingers like sand.

“Tell me baby, what do you want?” His finger is now tracing the seams of your lingerie cups, admiring the way they frame your ample bosom. Things are progressing too slow for your liking, and you come clean with your ignoble intentions.

“Please, I just want to suck you off.”

A wad of spit lands directly into your cleavage, followed by two thick fingers penetrating the lubed entrance.

“Nope.” His fingers continue to shallowly fuck your cleavage. Neither of you are being touched in the erogenous zone, but why does it feel so good? Your valley is inundated with his dribble, coating your ensemble and shifting shades to a deep cerise. Every pump of his nimble fingers between your breasts is like a promise of what your pussy is going to go through. Will he fuck you hard and fast with your voice echoing across the room, making every neighbor privy of your sexual escapedes? Will he be slow and gentle, penetrate you with utmost care, soft gasps and whines only sounded to the two of you? You can never guess.

In the aphrodisiac moment, you forgot that you were supposed to take charge.

“Please, please, please! I did so much,” You take the guilt route. If Jimin was anything, he was a just and fair man. “Can’t I get that much?”

Jimin’s gaze has not left your wet cleavage. A flit of his eye makes contact with yours and goes back to the fucking - that is enough language for you to understand his needs. You bend low, and spit out a fat glob onto your chest to add to the mess he has already made. The groan that leaves him is ungodly, and he licks the spit you unloaded onto yourself, spreading it all over your expensive wear. He slurps like you released sweetened water to a parched traveller, your bosom holding all the sweetness to itself.

Gathering your thoughts is more difficult than you could ever imagine. The cloth over your nipples is completely soaked, bitten into and sticking to your skin thanks to the vacuum Jimin pulled on them. Your back has had a workout, every vertebrae bent to its maximum possibility. Chiropractors are so last year, you just have your boyfriend ravish your breasts.

“Once I’m done, you can do whatever you want.”

All of your five brain cells had to be put in action to form that sentence. The moment the words left your lips, the pressure your breasts were on had been released, but you could still feel lips against you, stretching into a snarky smirk.

“Whatever?” His grip on your waist tightens, seating you more firmly onto his taut thighs.

Whatever. That stupidly amazing word.

“Saying ‘whatever’ always lands you in trouble. Have you forgotten?” His damp lips are tracing your collarbones, nibbles whenever he felt appropriate. How does he expect you to form a damned sentence like this, the Devil on your shoulder indignantly asks. The Angel on the other has gone back in time to fetch memories filed under the term ‘whatever’, strictly saved for your quality alone-time.

The first time you told him to do ‘whatever he wants’ was fairly early into your relationship. Sex was as vanilla as the ice cream tastebud-less people liked, and none of you ever pushed it too far. A happy, drunken night with a loose-lipped confession from him.

“God, the things I want to do to you…” he had muffled into your hair, maybe not even intended for your ears to pick up.

A cheeky giggle had bubbled out of your tipsy self. “Like what, tie me up?”

If Jimin then were a color, he was a pantone pink. Blushed cheeks from the alcohol and the realization that you had caught him, airbrushed with a depth you weren’t able to put in place that early in the relationship. Wide-eyed horror was shown in its place, possibly exaggerated to add to the denial he had landed himself in.

“No no, of course, I don’t mean it like that, what ar-”

“Why not?”

The animal that awoke after confirming with you fifteen times was a force to be reckoned with. Your bra had turned into rope, wrists bound behind as he roughly squished your helpless cheeks.

“You will tell me when to stop, right?” His tongue peeked lightly, brushing your top lip, taking the perspiration away.

“Uhmf-yufh!”

“God, you’re gonna regret this baby.”

But it was exactly the opposite. You got the railing of a lifetime, heard the filthiest words that could leave the lips of such a courteous man - a side you had not expected at all. You couldn’t possibly recollect every single move he made, but what you can recollect with excruciating detail is every feeling you felt that night. It was filled with lust, with revelations of the new ways your body could bend, a night of puppetry where Jimin played you like the master your body craved. The following day was Jimin taking care of you, big puppy eyes wondering whether he took it too far. In his daze of letting go of control, he couldn’t take in your lidded stare, heaving with satisfaction - so you made sure he could witness them when he took you the next time that morning.

The other time the wretched word was mentioned was during an argument. You’re not jealous of Jimin on stage - it’s his career and you were one of the girls offering one of their kidneys to be able to catch a glimpse of him.

But your workspace? That’s where you draw the line.

She was a random worker. Some third-floor low-lying soul. You were eighth-floor premium material (the floors didn’t decide shit, but no one can tell you what skyscraper semantics you can craft in your brain). A lifeless party that even Jimin’s colorful locks couldn’t color up.

This random worker was very enamored by Jimin (as she should, the man is a whole nine-course meal). Supportive fans are not what get you jealous either.

But the limit is when placed her scrawny fingers on Jimin’s hand, drawing the glass in his grip to her lips and took a sip from it. If her lashes were fanned they could blow a man away (which is probably more than what her puny mouth could possibly do). The fume exiting your ears could have been in bright red for all you care, because every office member had been rightfully annoyed.

The whole car ride back was filled with your drunken blabbers about the different ways you could skin her. The actual victim beside you was not making a nearly big enough deal out of it, intending to let you get rid of your temper.

“She fucking knew!” Your normally clean disposition had taken its leave after the fuming temper took real estate in your brain, and you aimlessly threw your heel at some corner of the house - hungover self shall have to deal with this angry mess you’ve made. Wait, you’re an angry mess too.. “The gall she had, I should jus-”

You march towards the door, in hopes of what, you don’t know. But if you didn’t take action you’ll probably explode. Any action, just anything. You never find out though, because a strong arm slithered around your waist and halted your expedition.

“Calm down, feisty. Where are you going now?” His soothing voice, punctuated with a mocking chuckle almost quelled the fire in you. Almost.

But you’re not done being an idiot.

“To go find her for you. You’d fuck the living daylights out of her, right?”

The loudest silence you have ever encountered. Jimin’s grip on your waist tightened to the point where it could have hurt. Like he was trying to push every iota of that thought out of your body. From behind, you can hear a deep breath dragging, and somewhere in your irate head you knew you had struck a nerve, a bad one. Jimin is forced to expel any anger bubbling in him, trying to use reason with an unreasonable recipient.

“Princess, you don’t actually think I’d do that right?”

“I don’t know!” Your misplaced anger had reached the rooftops. Jimin had done nothing wrong here except try to calm an increasingly livid girlfriend. “Maybe you’d love that. Her itty-bitty waist, that whore’s outfit she had on. You call me a whore right? Maybe she’s more worthy of you!”

“Y/N.”

The timbre of his voice had completely changed. The breathy, airy aura had completely departed from your name he had just called. The lack of nicknames raised some hair at the nape of your neck, but you’re a stubborn one.

“Ugh, I don’t care.”

You tried to walk back to your room, head still reeling in a palace of inferno, burning everything that dares to intrude your path - but somehow, you had been pushed to a wall, and the eyes of the man you loved had turned feral.

If Jimin was a color, he was green - igniting with fury, anger repressed in dark shadows that never made the light of the day until pushed - but you pushed all right. And now released from its shackles, it has surrounded you and slammed you against the wall - and you have nowhere to go.

“You’re my whore. Is that a complaint from my stupid, stupid whore?”

The only joint you’re free to move is your neck, and your gratuitous self decided to rebel with whatever degree of freedom you have. Turning your face away to not meet his seething eyes, you continue your rebel-without-a-cause tantrum.

“Whatever.” you carped out.

Again, with that stupid word, you had signed your fate for the night.

Usually, you can express your feelings. Be it pain or pleasure (sometimes the two packed in one), you could wail it out to the heavens and respite would follow.

Usually, you can see the torments laid out on you. Jimin’s lithe body performing every obscene spell he invoked is a treat for your eyes. He treats your body like an artisan, using any medium to paint his art on you.

But that day, you were stripped of them both, and made to realize what a privilege they were.

Mouth stuffed with your bunched up panties, eyes blinded by his tie of the evening, you could only rely on the sensors on your skin to somehow predict what was going to be done to you. And you failed. Every single time. Every thwack fell on a new area. Every teasing touch tickled you at a new place. Nothing could begin to prepare you for his next move and you couldn’t keep up with his tameless pace.

He made you beg through the makeshift gag, beg to let you come, then beg to stop coming, beg for every orifice of yours to be filled by his seed and then beg to get cleaned by him. With the first rays of morning sunlight, language was an illusion, time was an out-of-reach concept, and all you knew was the worshipping of last night.

Whatever is a word. Whatever is mean. Whatever is filthy. Whatever is nailing you into the bed and rendering you immobile for the entire day. Whatever may just be a word to anyone, but to you it is what has you losing sense of reality, giving in to a phantasm of your wildest dreams.

A wet tap on your cheek brings you back from you imagining the past - the fingers that were fucking your cleavage are squishing your cheeks, bringing your attention back from all your dirty memories to the present - to create another memory to add to your folder.

If Jimin is a color, he is the darkest of all blacks. This is where everything pious comes to meet its sordid end. His sultry gaze is reading your eyes, searching for where you got lost, which shared memories of passed time made you melt into the puddle that you are right now.

“I said, don’t you remember? ‘Whatever’?”

Let’s see. You don’t have work tomorrow. You don’t have any commitments. You don’t have to meet anyone.

So there is no reason for you to be able to move.

“Hmmmmn, I don’t seem to recall - you could remind me.”

Dark, dark chuckles from such a cherubic face. You flounder off his lap to shuck your (his) pants away, revealing the matching maroon garter belt set. The whole outfit is an ode to Jimin’s mid performance transformation, the one that made many people’s hearts skip a quick beat. His slim, cinched waist, the flared pants flowing down his frame were one for the books, and you’d like to think your rendition has its place too.

Giving him a quick spin, you attempt to get down to business - but Jimin pulls you back on his lap. Without the pants, you can feel it - his hard, thick cock straining against the tough jean fabric and still making its presence known.

“Tell me more, baby. What did you like?”

The man was a sucker for your praise.

You were a sucker for the whole man.

But the sucking will probably have to wait.

“I loved your expressions. You’re so sexy on stage, fuck. Going around and giving bedroom eyes to the world.”

His hand gripping you ass gives it a quick pinch, but voice just let out a lazy hum to get you to continue.

“The choreography,”, your whisper is strained, “you dance like you fuck baby. So sensual, so sexy.”

You lick a stripe up his neck, from his artistic collarbones to the back of his ear, the sensitive spot that makes him hiss is arousal. You stay there, wanting to whisper the next few lines. The world didn’t need to know your thirst for this.

“You know my favorite part?”

“Oh, tell me.” His voice is hitting lower and lower in pitch, much like it’s hitting you lower and lower in your body.

You place the hand framing his face on his neck - the same one you want to cover in blooms of purple and red, lightly squeezing, letting him preen under the pressure. The tightness has Jimin’s head falling back on the headrest, and you can feel his pulse hastening to accommodate for the lacking oxygen in his stream.

Letting go of his throat, and pleased to see the lightest indentation on his beautiful pale skin, you snake your hands downward.

“Na, na, na,” Inching slowly towards your end goal, you whisper the tune into his ear, “na na na, na, na na”, covering every part with an indulgent languish, “pick your filter”.

Your hand finally reaches its destination - you grab his bulge and squeeze the hardness, making Jimin buck his hips against your palm.

“Namaneul damabwa.”

It’s a low whisper from his lips, but even in the gravelly sound you can hear how melodious he is, how the song rolls off of his tongue and was made for his vocal color. The whisper is laced with lust, with want, with desire, all the feelings you portrayed for him in his performance.

That, and in life in general.

You shuffle and sit to the side, simultaneously unbuttoning his jeans to get him some relief for the ache he had going on. Finally, you acquiesce and free his dick from its cages.

Every time you see him is a wonder to you. Hard, ridged, the right amount of veins to stimulate the walls of your cunt. Head leaking from the eons of teasing you’ve been doing, right from the text you sent to seconds ago. You bend down to clean him up, tasting the saltiness of his seed that has coated the head. Jimin’s lips are facing the brunt of your deeds - his teeth have found near permanent residence in its plushness, digging deep to keep from moaning too early, from giving you the pleasure. He is going to make you work.

Well, you must get to work.

Slowly, slowly, you dip your head in further, sucking lightly with each move, tongue tracing every vein on his dick. As you move your head back up, Jimin’s hand pushes into your back, making it arch further, and then you go down on his dick. His finger lightly follows the curve of your back, from your upper back all the way to the band of your lace panties.

Hooking a finger underneath the lace fabric of your panty that had disappeared in between your mounds of flesh, he pulls at it - hard. Your throat revolts against the intrusion as you gag, and the fabric presses into your clit. The concentrated abrasion turns into pleasure - he uses it to arch your back further, and bring your ass closer so that he can-

Smack!

The spank sends you forward and you choke on his dick further, throat giving in to his hardness.

“So good for me baby. Look at that ass.” He grabs one cheek, bubbled with the way your panties are now, squeezing and testing the firmness of your glutes.

Your plans of torturing him are shot; the Devil on your shoulder is strangely mute. Awakening the brat, you slip a hand under and toy with his balls, pulling back to provide your throat some recess. Your saliva mixed with his precum is an gushing mess, glistening on his balls and now coating your palms as you play with light squeezes - the existing stiffness caused by your teasing arousal mixed with your playful fingers make Jimin buck into your mouth, releasing a delicious groan in the process.

A second spank is a warning, either you increase your pace or reap some serious consequences. You consider the consequences; they are very compelling. You could end with delicious marks of ownership from this delicious man. But he deserves the best suck of his life, and you’re going to do just that.

Hollowing your mouth, you go further down, till his head is poking an uninvaded point in your throat, and Jimin lets out a surprising note. A groan, no, a roar, but a tinge of whine mixed in it, like the pleasure is too much for him.

You continue to swallow around, hand pumping the length you couldn’t take in, interlarded with swipes on his tight balls, leaving Jimin to be a heaving mess. Your ass is not faring better, bearing the brunt of his replies. You’re positive his fingerprints are imprinted on your asscheek, and one sit on his phone can unlock it. The line of your panties is drenched with your sopping wetness and lodged between the lips.

“God, I’m so close baby, just a little more.”

You would fervently nod in acceptance to whatever demand he places; in this position, he could ask you for the world and you would have it at his disposal. But what stops you are his ringed fingers lodged in your hair, pushing you in further, determined to spill deep in your throat, to the point where you don’t even have to swallow to get everything down.

“Fuck, such a good girl for me.” Jimin appraises how deep he is going, how your throat is accommodating him and quivering around his length. Bunching your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, he stops them from obstructing his vision - the view of you struggling to take him in, toiling to keep the need to breathe at bay while you tend to his needs, worshipping his dick like its the last meal you’ll ever get - your desperate adulation takes him over the brink.

Jimin erupts into your mouth; an ungodly amount at that. It is the hardest he’s come in a while, and given your lifestyle, that’s saying something. Even a cum-hungry whore like you can’t possibly swallow that much in one go, and you are forced to let the globs dribble down his now-softening member. The two of you are heaving, catching a breath - completely different circumstances but the same result.

The way you’re looking at him right now; his dick is already twitching to go for a second lap. Dilated pupils staring back, like you were at the receiving end of the orgasm - you are staring at him like he hung every star in the sky. Strings of cum are leaking out of the corners of your lips, ones he really wants to lap up with his tongue. Instead, you daintily dab it away - as innocent as pecking stray drops of ice cream off your mouth.

You look at him with teasing eyes. “Want a taste baby?”

Running your tongue along the mess you (or he) made, you gather the remnant cum that didn’t go into you, and instead flooded his groin. Straddling back onto his lap, you go in for a kiss but stop halfway.

Jimin is looking, waiting with lust hungry eyes. Slightly pained by the pause, he whines.

“What?”

“Open your mouth.”

From a height, you let his cum and your spit drop into his mouth, a groan of satisfaction emanating as Jimin’s tongue accepts it with great delight. He tastes his juices, they somehow feel sweeter coming from your mouth. He pushes the glob you dropped on his tongue against the roof of his mouth, letting every taste bud bathe in relish. When he’s sucked all flavor out of the globule he swallows it. On opening his eyes and landing back from heaven to earth, he sees you admiring his adam’s apple, the way it bobbed when he swallowed your offering.

Jimin’s eyes trace your current state; you look beautiful. The strappy red lingerie wet from Jimin’s treatment perfectly showcases your peaked nipples, ready for another round of torture. His shirt, through all this has managed to stay hanging on your shoulders. The curves of your sinful waist accentuated by the ribbons of the wear, like roads down a windy path, every ribbon vanishing into their destination, between your curvaceous thighs.

Slipping his fingers under the band, he decides he has not played with the lingerie enough, tugging it up once again - a sharp inhale and you’re moving along with it, upward to balance between the point of pain and pleasure. Jimin makes sure you don’t tip in favor of one. Grabbing you by the neck, Jimin harshly pulls you down into a deep kiss.

He’s done waiting, done watching you take the reins. His tongue tells you that you now can only react to his doings. Deepening the kiss, you let your mind walk places. Back to his performance, his stage presence, the aura he exudes when he is in his element. His sinful body melding to the flow of the beat, like the music was made to his movement - his piercing gaze that could leave an insentient camera with blushed cheeks - but a sharp bite pulls you right back to the present to remind you that this is also Jimin in his complete element. Pillowy lips, incandescent with every brush, sucked and nipped with fervor. But it still didn’t satisfy. It wasn’t nearly enough. Starved, you wanted to scream at every imperceptible air pocket between the two of you - as if you knew in your soul they were guilty of keeping you away.

Jimin pulls away, and his words shut you down before the whine leaves you.

“About that ‘whatever’…” his sinister eyes are a window to his brain churning something unimaginable to close the night - sinister in uppercase. Make it bold. Underline that shit. That’s him.

In the bat of an eye, you are face down on the sofa - Jimin’s rock hard thighs are straddling you, making sure you can handle his weight. In all the coarseness, he takes care of the smallest of things. An untimely smile creeps up on your face at the thought, the tender show of affection amidst the rough push and pull affecting your immersion, but you can’t say you don’t like it.

Feeling a rough jerk on your shoulder, you try to look back, just in time to receive Jimin’s ravenous gaze; he looks at you like he will eat you alive, and by the end of the night you plan on having just that. Pulling back your now-unbuttoned shirt and bunching its ends, he anchors you to the position of his choice by tying your hands behind.

Smelling a line up your neck all the way up to your hair, he briefly pauses to ask “Okay?”

Your tiny nod is enough for Jimin to carry on with whatever godless plan he has chalked out for you.

“I hope you had your fun. Because I’m not going easy on you.”

Light banter could cause no trouble. Atleast, not more than you already have. “When have you ever?”

Flashbacks of the blossoming days of your relationship flicker in Jimin’s mind, their fugacious presence a telling sign of how long it has been. Looking downward, he can only thank his alcohol-induced blabbering of that night as that is the reason he can enjoy the view he has right now.

“Maybe I should take it easy?” His tongue flits across your neck, too soft for your liking, torturous like his liking.

His fingers are playing with the straps and your now exposed upper back. It’s always been a favorite place of his. The whole expanse looks resplendent when he is done tasting you. Maroon and purple florets on your beautiful, glowing skin. And then you purposely wear dresses to show it all off, to show who your heart belongs to. He loves that about you.

You gyrate lightly, snapping him out of his daze, begging him to take you hard and fast. “Jimin, please.” a low drawl leaves you as you try to not slobber all over the cushion.

Jimin shifts lower to straddle your thighs. Snaking his hand between your legs, he finds your clit and plays with it, every press releasing a different sound from different depths of your throat. A particularly low grunt appears when he slips two fingers into your channel with smooth ease, and pushes you up from the inside.

“Ass up for me.”

His fingers stay lodged inside as you raise your hips to obey him, pulling you up further and further till he is satisfied with your position. God, your pussy looks wrecked. With every pump of his fingers you gush our more liquid, and Jimin gathers the escaping drops on this tongue.

“So perfect for me, this hole.” You can feel the cold metal of his rings drawing circles inside you as he prepares you to take his cock. His tongue, drawing completely different characters is too slow for your liking - he seems to be more satisfied in drinking your cum dripping from his fingers instead of paying attention to your throbbing clit. Seconds go by, several hinting moans of dissatisfaction go by, but the Devil on your shoulder seems to have returned and is asking for more. A hip raise, that’s all. His tongue will be right where you want.

What you got instead was a sharp bite on your already battered ass - Devil, hey, where did you go? “Behave.” He grunts against your pussy, and a fresh wave of arousal escapes you with a third finger making its way in. “Don’t like it? Too,” Smack! “Fucking.” Smack! “Bad.”

The last spank hit you hard, leaving your cunt soaked to the core. He is trying to get a rise out of you, and you are falling for it. Your smarting skin is at its breaking point, but let’s not pretend like you don’t want this either.

“Baby please, I’m so close.” You’re close to tears with how long you’ve been this turned on. Maybe Jimin will have a change of heart seeing you like this.

“Don’t.”

Well maybe not.

He’s using your hole like playdough - for his fancy, with no end goal in sight. He doesn’t seem to want you to come anytime soon and it is bothering you to no end. The tightening coil in your belly is almost painful at this point - but he doesn’t seem to want to let up anytime soon.

“You taste so sweet baby, almost don’t want to let you come, so you keep dripping like this.”

His fingers curl into you to hit that spot, and God, you’re seeing stars right now. Curling up your fists into a ball and trying to keep the threatening tsunami at bay, you jerk into his mouth and continue to sway to the tune his fingers play inside you. If desperation had a poster girl, they could take your photo right now.

“If you let me come I -ohhh- I will- I will give you more.” Your words are broken, every push into your cunt halting your flow of speech.

A split second later you are empty. He’s pulled away from you, and you think the finger-fucking torture you were going through was almost better than this. Your walls flutter in empty anguish.

“Better keep your promise then.” Finally, you hear Jimin shuffling behind, but your muscles feel too alive and too dead at the same time. At crossroads, you are unable to get yourself to move, to twist or turn and witness the glory of him, the scrunch of his features, the grit of his pronounced jaw, his lips heaving a sigh as he pushes his girthy self into your leaking hole.

Jimin’s forehead is lined with sweat, jaws hurting from the tight clench he had trying to not nut into you too soon. Now they revolt in pain, ready to pass on their trouble to his dick and release into you the moment he fits himself in. But he held off; he had plans for you - long plans.

As he slowly pulls himself out, you can’t help but mewl at the pleasure your walls are feeling, with every ridge of his cock pressing all the right spots inside you, the snug fit when he’s pulled out all the way only leaving the head inside you. Then, you can’t help but yell, expressing a mixture of anguish and pleasure when his hips snap to push into you in one swoop, hitting deep inside you. With your ass high up in the air, his balls smack your engorged bud, sending shockwaves throughout your body and clenching the hold you have on his dick.

“Fuck baby, you feel fucking tight. You’re so close?” Jimin’s voice is strained as well; the lack of mocking in his tone tells you he is close as well.

“Ki-Kiss me, please.” The voice that leaves you is so foreign, so unknown. The fucked out woman speaking in your stance has no spatial or temporal comprehension. You don’t even realize how you are put on your back, now a lucky witness to Jimin’s nimble figure pushing back into you as he leaned over to slot his lips on yours.

The kiss was explicit, it was rough, it would put to any kiss you’ve shared before to shame. Deep in throes of pleasure, his mouth is chasing yours. Your hands are still bound; a light fight against the restrain tells you you don’t have a chance. Instead, you suck his plush lip in, swiping your tongue across his cherry petals that are rushing with blood because of you. Dormant volcanoes across the world could erupt with the blaze of your merging lips, it is scorching hot.

If Jimin is a color, he is a rich wine - deep and passionate. He puts his one hundred percent into whatever he does, be it skilled singing, adept dancing or simply fervent kissing. He gives it his all.

Jimin’s skillful hips move in every way he wishes - and your pussy is thankful for that. Rolling in deep, he tests the stretch of your walls, before pistoning into you with zeroed-in precision, sole focus to get you to come with him. The effort he was putting in could be seen in his abs - they have tightened with exertion, and with a light sheen on sweat, look absolutely delectable.

Letting your hands roam, you bring Jimin’s face into your neck where you can hear every single breath, every hiss, every groan - that you could record and keep in your memory. With one hand tugging his tresses, and the other hand drawing paths on his back with your nails, you hear the sounds you want to. Jimin sharply bites your ear, and the shockwaves of pleasure send you tipping.

There’s layers to the pleasure you are experiencing right now, your orgasm hitting you in ebbs and flows. Right when you think you can finally return back to ground, the high tide pulls you back into the water for another stream of pleasure. It feels like eternity when you finally hit the land, and even then the loose sand makes you falter, threatens to send you back into the ocean.

Jimin’s pace is faltering, and he spills soon after. Hot, heavy breaths tickle under your ear, as both of you feel the sheer intensity of the orgasm. Him on you, your hearts are aligned, and you can feel the beats fighting each other for dominance until they soften down.

Ripples of energy flow out of the both of you, elevating the temperature around the two of you. If you didn’t have your eyes closed you’d say literal rolls of steam are emanating from the way you both are heaving. You slowly regain your senses, twitching hands trying to remember what it is that hands even do.

A shiver runs through your spine when you hear a grunt so close to your ear, only to realize Jimin is in the same position as you are in. Even without looking, you can guess what his expression is. Void of any edge, the softness of his facial features must have made their return, with crinkled eyes and a light frown on his beautiful pouty lips, he probably looks like an innocent caricature of the man that stood behind you moments ago. Letting your palm rest on his head, you beckon him to get up.

If Jimin is a color, he is the pinkness best portrayed by his puffy cheeks at this moment. A childlike glow, a guileless visage. He looks at you with such adoration, like you are the only desire in his world, and everything else can be damned.

You don’t want to break this silence but you cheekily add, “You didn’t even get me naked. Like this a bit too much eh?”

Dark clouds mar the pink and turn it into a deep, sultry carmine - the shift in his color noticeably brings your temperature down by a few degrees.

“Cute. You think I’m done with you.”

He is the whole palette, and you can pick your filter.

Thank you for making it to the end! Let me know what you think! And you can find more of my writing at my masterlist here!

#bangtansorciere #bangtanhq #bangtancentralstation #ficswithluv #bangtaninn #bts smut #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #bangtanuniversity

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kassandras-one-braincell · 3 years

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Eivor x Fem!Reader - Ink Me Up

Oh, what to do when the Norwegian woman tattooing your thigh is insanely attractive, clearly gay, with a criminally good bedside manner?

Warning: about tattooing and obviously needles.

Word count: 4363

Can be found on AO3 here.

Heavily inspired by this post here. The tattoo itself is purely self-indulgent. Eivor is stupidly attractive and it's not fair. (Y/N) replacer safe.

After months of saving and deliberation, the time had come. For the longest time you had dreamed of getting something big, bold and beautiful permanently inked into your skin. Something meaningful. And you wanted someone talented to tattoo it.

Thus, you found yourself scouring the web for reputable tattoo shops, hours upon hours poured into searching artists’ portfolios, hoping that someone was skilled enough at black-and-grey realism within a relatively close radius. If you were going to pay a hefty sum for a tattoo, you wanted it to be perfect. Your desktop was flooded with reference images of sword lilies – the subject of your desired ink – and about a dozen different parlours, tabs whittling down one by one during your search.

The final tab was the website for a slightly pricier shop, but one of the artist’s Instagrams utterly captivated you. Their artwork was extraordinary, the details in their pieces stunning and intricate; you decided investing a little extra cash would be worth it. Eivor Varinsdóttir, handle @wolfkissed_ink. Grinning, you emailed the artist, requesting a consultation.

You explained to the artist during that consultation that you wanted a composition of black-and-grey realistic gladioli on your left thigh. Sword lilies represented strength, after all, and you wanted to commemorate overcoming a difficult part of your life with something gorgeous and symbolic. That and, well, flowers were pretty. Within the week they had responded with a sketch that was beyond what you could have possibly thought up yourself: two stunning, bloomed sprigs of the flower with petals floating either side, lifelike as a monochrome photograph. Smiling ear-to-ear, you booked up your first appointment.

Unbridled excitement led to the time before your appointment soaring by, with you opening up the file of the sketch almost every day. Bringing us to the present: you stood anxiously outside the parlour door, 12:50pm, ten minutes before your scheduled appointment. Sucking in a shaky breath, nerves both good and bad, you stepped inside.

The tattoo shop was sleek, modern and decked wall-to-wall with flash sheets, the small designs varying in style, colour and detail. Everything was spotless, as one would expect, with shining awards dotted about. Just seeing the various trophies did well to quell some of your anxieties, knowing you were in good hands, that you’d end up with a lovely piece on your thigh. A stout man covered neck to foot in swirling Japanese designs manned the front desk, smiling warmly at you, obliterating any stigmas you had heard from older relatives about tattoo culture.

Biting your lip, you made your way to the desk, mustering a nervous smile. As thrilled as you were about getting the tattoo, the whole pain aspect was still rather daunting. “Hey, one o’clock appointment for (Y/N) (L/N)?” You fidgeted with the hem of your shorts while the gentleman checked his desktop.

“With Eivor, right?” he verified. You nodded.

“Sorry I’m a little early—”

“No, not at all! Rather you be early than late,” he chuckled, clearly sensing your worries. His eyes flickered across a clipboard. “She’s not with a client at the moment, so I’ll send you through now, if that’s alright.”

“Sounds good, thank you,” you bade, pulse quickening. Come on, you’ve wanted this for so long, you can’t pussy out now.

The guy asked you to wait by the desk as he ventured down a long corridor, the black paint giving off an ominous vibe that did nothing for your nerves. A few seconds later, he returned, cocking his head for you to follow. Your knuckles were white from gripping the strap of your purse so tightly.

He led you to the room at the end of the hall, holding the glossy black door open for you. “Go easy on her, Eivor, it’s clearly her first,” he called out, flashing you a wink, before letting the door close behind you.

Holy shit.

She was hot.

Eivor was nothing short of a modern day viking. Tall, rippling with muscle, late twenties to early thirties, blond hair strewn into an unruly braid with a strip on the right shaved clean to the flesh, revealing a fucking skull tattoo of a bird…a raven? Her face was stupidly handsome, eyes blue and icy but warm with greeting, a long and gnarly scar cutting into the flesh of her left cheek with a smaller nick protruding from her upper lip. Hell, the nape of her neck was marred with an even more vicious looking scar. She wore a tight black t-shirt that strained around her deliciously grizzled arms, which were adorned with Norse-looking runes and text curving into circles, ink that carried on to her hands and neck. The smile she offered you made you weak in the knees.

“(Y/N), right? I’m Eivor, a pleasure to meet you,” she greeted, voice deep and gravelly, decorated with a rasp that to you sounded like butter. Fuck me, she’s a tall, tall glass of water.

You shook her hand when she extended it to you, marvelling at the patterns and blacked-out bands on her long, thick fingers. Her nails were cut extremely short, confirming the strong lesbian vibe she gave off. “Likewise,” you squeaked, cursing yourself for acting like some bloody schoolgirl.

She sauntered over to her setup, weight carried in her shoulders, consolidating her already intimidatingly attractive butch energy, sanitised her hands and pulled on a clean pair of gloves. “Come on over,” she said, grabbing a disposable razor from a box. “I’ll just need to make sure the area is shaven, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” you replied, joining her by the leather chair, covered by a sheet of cellophane. It was a relief to see all the hygiene precautions taken in the shop. Eivor picked up a disinfectant wipe.

“Left thigh, if I remember correctly?”

“Mhm, yeah.”

She dropped to one knee – wasn’t that a fucking sight – and wiped down the expanse of your thigh before gliding the razor over the flesh.

Hesitantly, you asked her what the general procedure was, desperately trying to divert your thoughts from the sapphic spiral they were travelling down.

“Alright, after I’ve finished here I’ll apply the stencil. You’ll get to check if you like the placement, and if you don’t I’ll keep going until you’re happy with it. It’s a big piece, so we’ll have to split this up into two sessions, as we discussed alongside payment.” She brushed away the loose hairs and peach fuzz. “I’ll do the linework this session, and the shading next time.” With one final pass of the razor she pulled back, tossing it into a bin.

Eivor then picked up a sheet of thin paper with the sketch printed on it. She plucked a purple pen from her table. “Give me a few minutes to trace the stencil, then we’ll apply it and see how you like it.” You nodded, trying to focus on your breathing.

While she traced over each line of the sketch, she kindly attempted to soothe your fears with small talk. “I’ll admit, I’ve never heard of a ‘gladiolus’ before our consultation. Any reason why you chose it?”

You smiled. “They represent strength. I finally got through a rough spell and wanted something to celebrate with,” you explained, heart skipping a beat at the soft expression on the artist’s face.

“All the more reason to get this perfect then,” she said with a grin. The way the scar on her upper lip quirked was positively adorable. A couple minutes passed and she re-capped the pen. “Stand up straight for me, darling.” Oh.

Cheeks burning with bashfulness, you complied. Eivor took a second to angle the stencil before smoothing it over your thigh, leaving a purple outline once she removed the paper. “Just have a look in that mirror over there and tell me if you’re happy, okay?”

You walked over to the mirror and stared at your thigh. The tattoo was large – which you expected, with the amount of detail in it – and perfectly central, the loose petals appearing to float down the length of your thigh. “Perfect,” you breathed out, giving the woman a thumbs-up.

Eivor switched over her gloves and gestured for you to take a seat on the chair. “Get comfy, then. Do you have water?” Nodding, you took out your water bottle from your handbag. “Brilliant. Still want to do this?”

“Hell yeah.” Weirdly, the nerves about the pain (not about the sexy artist) had almost wholly subsided, leaving you brimming with anticipation.

She poured some jet black ink into small caps, no larger than the tip of your thumb. “Remember to breathe through it and hold still, yeah? You picked a smart place for your first tattoo, not too close to the bone.”

“I’ll try.” Eivor opened a sealed packet containing a new, sterilised needle, inserting it into her tattoo machine. She switched it on, the buzz of the machine’s piston filling the room with a gentle hum. Looking up at you, she cocked her brow – if only your gay thoughts could bugger off for two minutes – as if to ask, ready? Affirmatively, you beamed at her.

Dipping the needle into the ink, she pulled the skin of your thigh taut. Immediately, you noted the warmth of her hand on your leg, fighting off a shudder. Then came a mildly painful scratching sensation as she brought the machine to your thigh.

Honestly? It wasn’t bad. Irritating, like an itchy eye, but not drastically unpleasant. You followed Eivor’s advice, keeping your breathing steady, averting your attention to the artwork on the walls, some of which you had seen on her Instagram portfolio. Portraits, flowers, animals, realistic-looking jewellery…the woman had mastered black-and-grey. You knew you picked the right artist. The frown of concentration on her face spoke volumes about her dedication to the art, steeled and intently focused on the lines she was pulling.

When she wiped the area and reached for more ink, she glanced up at your face. “All good?” she asked.

“Yeah, no issues here.”

“Wonderful.” She set back to work, positioning her needle over the flower’s curved stem, dragging it downwards in a slow arc. “Your skin takes ink like butter, by the way.”

“Oh, that’s good,” you breathed out. Her hand suddenly felt a little warmer. Tell me this woman does audiobooks, you thought.

After a few more lines, you tried to pepper in some small talk without breaking her concentration. Fortunately, her bedside manner was immaculate, and she entertained your questions without any grudges.

“Your voice is really soothing. Where abouts are you from?”

“Oh, thank you. I’m from Norway, moved here a few years back.” She grinned at the compliment. “It’s funny, people usually say the opposite about my voice.” You wondered if they were deaf.

“It’s a nice rasp,” you chuckled. Buzzing stopped, more ink.

“I was bitten by a wolf when I was nine,” she explained. Buzzing recommenced, scratching returned. “My larynx never properly healed from it, so I’ve sounded like some chain-smoker since before I hit double-digits, despite never touching a cigarette in my life.”

“You don’t sound like a chain-smoker, though. I mean it.”

Her grin widened. “That actually means a lot.”

An hour passed by, most of it spent in comfortable silence, with Eivor checking in on you occasionally to see how you were coping. Certain patches of nerves stung a little more than others, but none of it was unbearable. That was until her machine passed over a particularly rough area. It fucking killed, the burn of the needle seemingly deeper than anywhere else, the sting infinitely more intense than before. You hissed, gritting your teeth together.

“Ow,” you winced, clutching onto your water bottle in an attempt to relieve the pain, to no avail.

Eivor continued pulling her line, her rasp coming out in a low mantra. “Just breathe through it, nice and slow…” You tried to follow, attempting in vain to relax your shoulders. “Keep holding still for me…” Your breaths came shallow but steadily so, the stinging slowly becoming more endurable. The machine reached the end of the line. “Good girl,” she muttered, blissfully of absent mind.

Good girl.

Oh fuck.

Just when your clearly gay tattoo artist couldn’t get any hotter, she comes out with some hot-girl bullshit like that. And fuck, you didn’t think you had a praise kink before, but now this certainly awakened something. Why, why did it have to sound so good in her husky voice? No, you were absolutely not going to fantasise about your artist, not when her hands were on your skin, on your thigh of all fucking places. God, this stupidly attractive Norwegian butch was making you uncomfortably hot.

When she finally pulled away, sweet bloody reprieve, you took a sip of your water. “That wasn’t fun,” you remarked.

“Took it like a champion, though,” she beamed proudly, clearly unaware of the affect her words had just had on you. “Need a break?”

“Just a minute or two, thank you,” you sighed with relief. Eivor wiped you down and analysed her work.

“We’re just over halfway there,” she commented. Only halfway? Fuck. You allowed your eyes to wander over the black lines, all perfectly smooth from practiced precision. Yeah, this woman was talented.

“I mean, that killed, and that was my thigh…” you trailed off, making her laugh. “What was the most painful tattoo you’ve gotten?”

Eivor answered without hesitation. “My head, without a doubt. Packing solid black into that thing was agony. My fingers killed, too, but all completely worth it.” You couldn’t help but agree with that last part. Her hands looked extremely good, both with and without those gloves.

“I’m guessing places with more nerve endings and by the bone are the worst, then?”

“Definitely. The palm of the hand is the most sensitive, and it’s tough to get right. Ink bleeds, skin bleeds…and if you don’t do it well it’ll just fade. All that pain for nought.”

You gulped down some more water. Ouch. “Duly noted.”

After ninety odd more minutes, Eivor switched off her machine for good, the linework finished and utterly flawless. “All done for this session,” she announced, changing gloves once more to clean and wrap the area. There was minimal irritation around each line, and the wipe felt wonderfully cool against the reddening flesh.

Once she finished placing various equipment in a tub labelled ‘autoclave’, she escorted you to the front desk. You paid half the decided fee of the tattoo and booked your second session for three weeks’ time. Eivor gave you an aftercare kit, explaining in detail how to keep the tattoo clean, how to prevent infection, and to avoid direct exposure to sunlight as much as you could. Eagerly, you listened, trying to drink in as much of her voice as possible before departing.

“I’ll see you in three weeks, then. Take care, (Y/N),” she grinned. From the moment you stepped out of the shop, you knew that grin would be engraved into your mind for the weeks to come.

The second appointment couldn’t have come quickly enough.

You spent an embarrassing quantity of time thinking about your dreamy tattoo artist, right up until the day you walked back into the shop, this time free of any concerns pertaining to the tattoo. The gentleman from before recognised you and asked how the tattoo was holding up, if you’d had any issues keeping it clean, to which you replied all was good. Only this time, Eivor came to greet you by the front desk.

“How’s it going?” she asked, welcoming as before.

“Really good. I just hope I’ve been doing everything right,” you chuckled, anxiously glancing down at your thigh. The redness had completely disappeared a few days after your first appointment, the black ink proudly meandering over your skin.

Eivor smiled reassuringly. “Trust me, you’d know if you haven’t. From here it looks like you’ve done a fantastic job of keeping it clean, anyway.” You followed her to her studio, mentally noting how she was wearing an even tighter black t-shirt than last time, the fabric clinging to the defined contours of her muscled back, biceps, abs… Needless to say, the gay thoughts had returned at full-force.

As before, she shaved and disinfected your thigh, but instead of a stencil she had the full greyscale reference images for the design printed and taped to a metal beam above her table. She took careful time in diluting various caps of black ink into a plethora of greys, experience shining through as she added precise amounts of diluter to each cap. There was something addictive about watching the woman work, with how methodical she was, how delicately she handled the bottles of ink.

When she unpacked a needle, you noted the shape was different to before. “Now, some parts are gonna be only a little rougher than before. Others will suck, I’ll warn you now,” she mentioned as you positioned yourself on the chair.

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” you joked. Eivor laughed.

“You handled it like a trooper before. I have zero doubts you’ll do the same today.”

And so she began, making multiple passes with the machine unlike before, packing in the different shades of grey in front of her, scratching into the already broken skin. It wasn’t massively painful, but Eivor was right – last time was a breeze in comparison. You rested your eyes and bore the pain, focusing on the faint music playing from the shop’s reception.

As previously, she was ever considerate, checking up on you as she worked – albeit not as frequently, now that you were accustomed to the needles – and encouraging you through the nastier patches. You tried your hardest to not look at your thigh, wanting the final result to be a surprise, but over time it grew increasingly difficult not to sneak a glance at her hands. Merely the thought of them flustered you (pathetic, you knew) and nothing would be more embarrassing than drifting off into a less than appropriate fantasy about the woman when she was simply being professional.

Time blurred together amongst your inner dilemma – to look or not to look – until Eivor’s signature rasp caught your attention. “Time for your least favourite part,” she said, giving you a knowing look, positioning her needle in one of the petals over the area that hurt like a bitch previously.

“Oh god, I forgot about that area.”

“Just own the pain and keep still, alright?”

“I’ll try.”

Eivor smirked: a wicked thing that could have killed every sapphic in a mile radius. “Squirm and I’ll pin you down. I’ve had to do it before, and I’ll do it again.”

That, under different circumstances, would be an appealing notion.

Closing your eyes once more, you tried to decipher the song lyrics resonating through the shop’s hall, grimacing when the needle penetrated the skin. Just focus on Rihanna, focus on Rihanna…

“That’s…not so bad, actually,” you mutter, not entirely self-assured of the words leaving your lips, hoping some placebo affect would take place.

Eivor chuckled, dipping into another shade. “You sound convincing,” she drawled.

“I’m – ow – serious… Okay fuck, that’s way worse.”

“Shh, it’ll be over soon. Find something to focus on.”

So you did, on what happened to be the first thing in your immediate line of sight when you re-opened your eyes: Eivor’s bicep. God, her shirt strained around the muscle, black fabric against tanned skin and the deep green runes littering her arm. Perhaps the ink had something to do with her ancestry, given that the woman said she was Norwegian – that or she was just a mythology nerd. Your eyes trailed over the spirals of script, the perfectly concentric circles. Mind wandering, the idea that she may have tattoos on her back and front piqued your interest. Then came the delightful image of Eivor without a shirt. Pinning you down. Fuck.

Before long the pain subsided, leaving a dull ache where the needle had worked at your skin. “All done, darling,” Eivor murmured, wiping the patch. Darling. You knew it was simply her bedside manner, trying to keep you as relaxed as possible, but damn was it having the polar opposite effect. Cheeks feeling impossibly hot, you unscrewed the cap of your bottle and took a sizeable gulp of water. She gave you a moment to breathe, now that the most difficult part was out of the way. Still flustered, you drained half your bottle.

Concern plastered on her face, Eivor leaned closer, inspecting your face intently. “Are you feeling faint?” she asked, evidently worried. “It’s important you tell me if you are—”

“No, no, I’m fine, really.” You were stuttering, annoyed with yourself that you made her worry. “Just being weird. I promise.”

“You do?” Her eyebrows were still upturned, not entirely believing you.

You nodded frantically. “Yeah, really. Please don’t worry.”

Taking a slow breath, she restarted the machine, relief flashing across her features. She gestured for permission to continue tattooing, which you granted, and set back to work.

Cursing internally, you let your eyes flutter shut, thoughts full of nothing but ‘good girls’ and ‘darlings’ in a husky Norwegian accent. Numbing yourself to the needles, you drifted off into slumber.

“Hey, (Y/N)?”

A gentle pressure squeezed at your hand, slowly stirring you, bringing you back to the world of the living. Yawning, you opened your eyes, gaze brought to a gloved hand atop your own.

“Good evening,” Eivor said, retracting her hand and watching as you gasped and scanned the studio for a clock in a panic. Evening?

“Kidding,” she laughed. “I finished up ten minutes ago.” You shot her a half-hearted glare through sleepy eyelids.

“That was mean,” you pouted. She grinned.

“I do stab people for a living.”

Snorting, you swung your legs over the side of the chair, stretching them to regain a semblance of sensation. Chest pounding with excitement, you looked to the mirror at the side of the room, then at Eivor, silently asking permission to peak at the finished tattoo. She held out her hand in gesticulation.

Giddy with anticipation, you walked over and… Holy shit.

It was beautiful.

Each shade of grey blended into one another in a perfect harmony, so seamlessly that the black outline from before was barely visible. The shadows underneath each leaf, each petal looked real. Every speckle and wrinkle on the petals shone through, love and attention going into every marking. The falling petals were akin to a photograph, with the light grey background wash tying them to the main flowers, each little shadow appearing to give them different depths. It was beyond anything you imagined. All that pain, mental and physical, turned into a lifetime of beauty.

You didn’t realise you were crying until the salt of tears rolled into your awe-parted mouth.

“I’m, well… Wow.” Beaming, you turned to face your artist, who looked at her artwork with pride. “Thank you, Eivor. Thank you so much.”

She shook her head and offered you a box of tissues, from which you took one gladly. “I’m just honoured to have helped you lay that chapter of your life to rest. May the sword-lilies battle any shreds of it that remain.”

Stunned by her poetic inclination, you dried your eyes in silence, lips curved into a joyous smile. Meanwhile, she removed her gloves.

“You have tissues at the ready. I’m guessing people cry a lot here?” you asked, finally prying your eyes away from the masterpiece on your thigh.

“Mostly from the pain,” she remarked.

“You know, you could just lie to me so I don’t feel like such a fucking sap.”

The sound that left Eivor’s mouth in response was nothing if not angelic. She practically howled in hearty laughter, echoing through her studio, her eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t think it possible for your grin to widen further still, but her outburst was contagious in the best way.

“I’m glad you’re happy with it. Truly,” she breathed out, chest stilling from her fit.

“It’s beautiful. Happy is an understatement.”

Eivor made her way over to the desk in the corner of the studio, where a graphics tablet lay alongside a stylus. “Now, before I dress it, I’m legally required to ask you if I have permission to photograph the tattoo for advertisement purposes. I appreciate it’s a personal subject matter and completely understand if—”

“Go for it,” you shrugged.

“Are you certain?” You nodded.

“Of course. It’s a work of art.” The smile she gave you was genuine.

“This’ll only take a minute. Thank you, really.”

She knelt down and snapped a picture with the tablet, checking the quality. “All done.” Eivor then proceeded to sanitise her hands and slip on one last pair of gloves, grabbing the wipes and plastic wrap from her station. “The photo will be uploaded to the shop’s website and my professional Instagram, if that’s alright with you. Completely anonymous, of course.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Although, it’ll be weird seeing my leg on my feed.” She chuckled.

“Feel free to email or DM if you have any concerns with the healing.” Patting your leg, she stood up to her full height, placing her gloves in a biohazard ziplock. “Well, I’m honoured to have given you your first tattoo.”

“Honoured to be your…canvas?”

And just like that, your time with the artist was up. You watched wistfully as she put together an aftercare pack at the front desk, your previously overjoyed expression drifting into a sad one. After paying, you thanked her one final time.

“Take care, søta,” she said with a wink.

The very moment you arrived back home, you whipped out a Norwegian-to-English translator and immediately tried to replicate her pronunciation of the word she called you, blushing profusely when discovering it meant ‘cutie’. And upon opening your cleaning pack, you found an addition that wasn’t present in your previous bundle:

A small slip of paper. On one side, a mobile number. On the other, in beautifully neat cursive,

I’d love to take you to dinner. Text me if you’re interested?

Yours, Eivor

#eivor #eivor varinsdóttir #eivor x reader #f!eivor x reader #female eivor #tattoo parlor au #modern au #ac valhalla

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