#the vibes of this is fucking unparalleled

[ashthedestroyer]

I like girls that are just a little bit strange. A bit bizarre, a lil weird, a lil spooky even. Something is slightly off about them and it makes them endearing. Also girls who have just lost the plot.

#wlw #lesbian #sapphic #lesbian pride #sapphic yearning #turns out the reason the girl I like has such strong punk rock vibes is because she’s British and tbh I should’ve seen it coming #like bitch me too #also bisexual women hi yes i love y’all too #my love for women is unparalleled #the kookiness in a girl’s personality is like adding cheese to pasta; best fuckin thing #terfs fuck off

[avianii]

vaguely irritated every time I hear someone call my life depressing

#got it like 50 times this past week from multiple people and im like #bitch what the fuck #just because i complain about my life all the time doesn't mean i hate it? #i mean have you HEARD me bitch about CoD? AND I STILL PLAY IT #sure maybe if *you* were living like I do maybe you'd be depressed #which #skill issue tbh #get on my level #YOU CANNOT MATCH THE VIBE OF A 2AM CRAM STUDY SESSION #it is simply too powerful #anyways #i apologize for the rant #“go do something fun” well WHAT IF I ENJOY SCReAMING AT MY PHYSICS TEXTBOOK #no genuinely tho #so long as i actually get it in the end lol #the feeling of solving a problem you've been stuck on for hours or being able to just blaze through mcqs is unparalleled #besides maybe when im on like a 20 kill streak in CoD and keep getting to throw attack helicopters at people #i do realize how nerdy this sounds lmfao but yknow what. deal with it (⌐■_■)

[bougiebutchbitch]

Kakashi has a degradation kink but ONLY when it's funny

Do I think he has genuine, deep self-esteem and self-worth issues and might struggle to engage in degradation kink in a healthy way? Yes.

Do I still think it would be hilaaaarious if Obito came back from the dead to call him trash and Kakashi got Turn't? ABSOLUTELY

#obito fucked him in kamui i'm sorry i don't make the rules #he clapped those non existent asscheeks so hard #Obikaka #Kakaobi #Kakashi #Obito #Kakashi is horribly embarrassed but very. Very. Into that too #Morning cumquats #This man just gives off unparalleled vibes of 'Don't bully me I'll cum'

[quickhacked]

like when it would come down to it he would be decent enough to talk to as just a regular student he's kind and charming but there are just so little instances of him having a normal ass conversation with someone normal. he only ever got involved with insane freaks like him. he would publicly have sexually charged arguments with nick. jen and him would yell profanities at each other from other ends of the hallway. if you had to do a group project with him he would say a total of 10 words during your first class together then hand in his part of the project within the first two days and then ghost the group chat for the rest of the project's runtime

#personal #are you understanding the vibes i'm trying to pin down here. like he's nice!!!! but he is SO fucking unapproachable #that's why he generally didn't have any normal friends during that time of his life except when he like. forced himself into normal circles #so for example when he joined a book club for a while. genuinely one of the better moments in his college years but jesus fucking christ #the difference between that and the rest of it all. unparalleled

[are-we-really-doing-this]

Reveille | Lancaster, PA. | 1/15/2000

(Permanent (Take a Look Around))

#like come the fuck on #what isn’t absolutely kickass about that #the vibe is unparalleled #reveille #nu metal

[benchowmein]

Say what you will about uk Netflix series but the way they have the whole American thing going on despite being British. Insane

#the end of the fucking world for example…such vibes #even though some was filmed at my uni I’m like wow…the vibes are unparalleled …

[awkwxrdapple]

@unmistakablyunknown and I have been writing together for a long time but we've never written the exact same event but from different characters pov's... until now. And I've just sent her a message that says "Do I need to knock [character] out? Would that be easier for you?" 😂😅💀

#the vibes are great #we're having the best fucking time #using the same dialogue and series of events but writing it from different character perspectives? #unparalleled #liv tag #anna and liv stuff

[thedragonagelesbian]

I MISS THE CROWNKEEPERS SO MUCH

#first exu vibes were unparalleled #'time is a weird soup' #'how do you fuck with a door?' #whatever the fuck was going on between dariax and dorian #little mister #everything dariax opal and fearne did tbh

[lilac-5ky]

TOJI AND VIRGIN READER!

The Favor (officeAU!Toji x virgin!Fem!Reader)

Plot: The first day you met Toji, he told you everything on his CV was a lie. Three years later, he's your beloved work husband, the one you go to when you decide it's time to lose your virginity.

Tags: Office!AU, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f.receiving), agee gap (reader mid 20s, toji mid 30s), soft!dom toji, dirty talking, praising, pet names (sweetheart, darling, kid, wife, whore, slut, etc), aftercare, toji catches feelings after fucking you, daddy vibes without the word, friends to lovers dynamic, size kink, lube handjob, MDNI obviously.

A/N: Combined your idea with my intense need to write an office!au. Hopefully this turned out to your liking and you forgive me for writing this much filth LMAO

Masterlist | AO3 | Requests

For promotion, for demotion, for raises and for cuts, in overtime and in bureaucracy, until layoff do us part.

In the insufferable reality of Japanese corporate life, a work spouse exists to shoulder the burden of overdue deadlines and never-ending stacks of paperwork. A husband who, in spite of not being bound to you through marriage, has vowed to stick by your side until either one of you breaks free from the shackles of human resources; your work husband.

You met each other on your first day at the company, both of you passing interviews for the same lowly position of staffing coordinator.

Your first impression of candidate number 9 was that his suit wasn’t really his but was likely borrowed from someone whose bicep wasn’t the size of their thigh and calf combined. Your second impression was whispered to your ear as the dark haired man rose from his chair and paraded down the interview room, nonchalantly letting slip that his bachelor’s degree along with every bit of qualification on his CV had been faked.

Whether that was a declaration of war or a testament to his unparalleled confidence, you wouldn’t know until a week later when you were assigned to the same miserable office corner, sharing a desk, a title, and a secret whose value skyrocketed once you became acquainted with your work place’s imposing policies.

One word would get both him and his knowing smile fired, but the moment you shook hands with Fushiguro Toji and promised to get along, you signed yourself up for a long-lasting partnership.

Over the three years you worked together, each grew out of their initial post. Your all-nighters paid off and you got promoted to an HR assistant, meaning you didn’t have to memorize everyone’s coffee order any longer, while Toji flourished as the department’s eye candy.

He’d ceased pretending that his broad shoulders could be boxed in second-hand suit jackets, and instead opted for rolled-up button-ups with the occasional monochromatic tie—a fit that put his sculpted physique into full view and threw the entire female populace out of balance.

He was an objectively good-looking man who bordered on great. The type to be conscious of their effect on others, cutting corners with suggestive glances and smiling his way out of otherwise unforgivable report oversights. Every woman in the office was openly in love with him. Even your supervisor referred to him as the team’s ace and discreetly unbuttoned her cleavage in his presence.

You realized then, they’d sooner let go of you and your hard-earned master’s, than part with the department’s mascot.

Despite the differences in skill and appearance, your sense of kinship survived the passage of time. Perhaps you’d subconsciously fallen victim to his charms, but whenever you saw his thin brows furrow and his right foot threaten the unresponsive copy machine with a killing blow, you couldn’t look away. This is a favor; you’d remind him at every formal email and resume assessment you helped put together.

And favors are repaid.

While Toji couldn’t assist with payroll processing, he always had the scoop on who cheated on their spouse with whom and whose bra was filled with padding—which you didn’t find all that interesting, but turned into a fun game of guess the cheater during dull 9 a.m. meetings.

On mornings when the alarm was hurled at your bedroom wall, he made excuses for your absence, and on work dinners, he saved you a seat away from all the grabby drunks.

Toji was far from a good person. His mere presence in a company you’d broken your back to get into was a mockery of your efforts. He led others on and got into muffled shutouts over his phone behind the water fountain, where he thought no one was listening in.

That’s how you found out about his eight-year-old kid and the custody battle with his allegedly “psychotic” ex-wife. He didn’t know you knew because you never told him. Everyone had skeletons in their closet, and it wasn’t your job to sort his out. As far as your work marriage was concerned, he was a good husband who diligently fulfilled his marital duties—all except one, which you feared the pretext of a favor wouldn’t begin to cover.

“Here’s your poison,” you slid the scalding coffee cup in his direction, mindful of the papers on his desk. “Black Americano with four shots of espresso and no sugar to compliment your wretched dark soul.”

Toji raised an open palm in your face, motioning for you to wait until he was done punching words on the keyboard and pressed save file. Your eyes were drawn to his fingers, threaded with faded scars that followed the expanse of veins down his wrists, dipping deep below the white cotton of his shirt. Another unsolved mystery you hadn’t gotten to the bottom of.

He brought the cup to his equally scarred lips, defying the steam spirals with a long-drawn sip. “Unnecessary intro, but thanks.” He gave a lazy smile. “Aren’t ya a sweetheart?”

You dropped your beverage on your side of the desk and swiveled your chair nearer. “Think you could do said sweetheart a favor?

“A favor, huh?” His breath was laced with caffeine. “Depends. If you’re asking for a buck, ‘fraid I’m all dried up till the end of the month.”

So he isn’t planning on paying for his order.

“I make more than you.”

“Doesn’t mean ya can’t find yourself in a pickle.”

You shook your head, stealing a sip of liquid courage from your mocha. How did people ask those things again?

Your contemplation lasted long enough for him to turn his head back to work, filling his home screen with enough tabs to distract you from his unfinished round of solitaire.

“What are you doing after work?” Your voice cracked into shards of uncertainty.

“Nice try.”He sneered. “You dug your own grave taking on the grievance procedures from the union. Climb out on your own.”

“Not everyone offloads their work load on others, Toji.” You rolled your eyes, scooting even closer to make sure only he’d be the recipient of your next words.

He sensed something was off because he wasn’t pretending to input random lines into the search bar anymore, and while he studied you, you studied him back. You had your doubts about this, and you weren’t sure he was your type either. You liked your men responsible and mature—like Nanami from sales, who would’ve been your first choice if your legs didn’t turn into jelly the minute you saw him.

Toji was the safe option. You talked to him. You joked with him. You were used to him, and more importantly, you trusted him. All the lack of qualifications in his job, he made up for with his experience in that other field you were a stranger to.

“Hey, kid.” His voice mellowed down with a beat of concern, a heavy hand landing on your shoulder. “If you’ve gotten yourself into trouble, I—”

“Please have sex with me.”

“Make yourself at home.” He nudged your back into the apartment, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were following even after he’d pulled away.

Moving forward felt hard—as if you’d forgotten how to. You weren’t sure whether to wipe your shoes on the mat or stash them in the corner. You didn’t know which foot to put forth and what set of slippers to pick. Every decision suddenly mattered a lot more than it should.

You’d never been to Toji’s house before, and up until a few hours ago, you couldn’t fathom standing at his doorstep either. You weren’t that close so as to meet outside work hours, but you were about to get a lot more up close and personal.

The way he accepted your request with a mere, almost offensive, okay still boggled your brain. You’d considered every question he could possibly ask, painstakingly compiling your list of answers like a witness called to the stand, only for him to not speak a word of it—not even when it was just you and him and the solitude that came from enjoying lunch a hundred stories above Tokyo’s bustling streets.

He seemed to have forgotten all about your plans, up until he pulled over at the bus stop where you were waiting and stuffed you in the front seat of his car.

“You coming?”

Kicking your heels off your feet, you skipped straight through the hallway, your head turning left and right as if you were at an art gallery. You didn’t know what to expect, but a high-end apartment in the heart of Minato wasn’t it. Neither your income nor his justified an inox steel kitchen with mahogany wood flooring—let alone a direct view of the illuminated Tokyo Tower.

You were so bedazzled by the city skyline that you nearly missed the hastily buried socks peeking beneath the kotatsu, along with the cobwebs his untouched bookshelf flaunted. Much like his suit, his apartment was handed to him by someone whose love for both their books and spouse had run out.

“Whaddya think?”

Toji stalked behind you, his reflection in the glass becoming more defined with every step he took. He was holding something in each hand—two glasses whose orange liquid sparkled in place of the stars.

You turned around slowly, accepting your share with a small smile on your face.

“Your ex-wife has good taste.”

He blinked, taken aback for a split second. He wondered what gave it out—the pink slippers or the flipped-down picture frames you’d yet to notice—and somewhere down the line, he got the wrong idea, beaming with an unwarranted “Thanks.”

“I meant the house, not you.” Although you couldn’t blame him for his inflated ego when every female practically dropped their panties at his feet. Especially not when you were there to do the same.

Your teeth clicked sharply against the glass as you tilted your head and sipped on what tasted too sweet to be whiskey. Apple Juice?

“That’s not alcohol.” You stated.

“Ever thought of becoming a detective?” Toji padded toward the leather couch, spreading his thighs across the two middle cushions.

“Ever thought of becoming a comedian?” You retorted, squeezing in to his left. The furniture would’ve been big enough to fit you both, had he been considerate. “So what’s the joke? Too young to be drinking, or hard liquor ain’t for pretty girls like me?”

“Nah.” His head dropped on his shoulder, both propped against the headrest. “Need you sober for what’s about to happen.”

You mirrored his stance, your knees touching as you folded them on the smooth leather. “And what’s about to happen?”

“I think we both know, or else ya wouldn’t have followed me here.” He wet his bottom lip, pretty green eyes clouding dark.

A certain dryness gnawed at your throat, the pink color of his tongue appealing to you more than it should. You weren’t interested in Toji, but the strands of black that fell over his forehead painted a cuter image than you were used to seeing at the office. You wondered what he’d look like with his hair pushed back, all slick from beads of sweat rolling down his temples. And when you realized you couldn’t pin any of those thoughts on the alcohol, you took another sip, hurriedly averting your gaze.

“How many have? Women from work, I mean.”

You were surprised to hear him state “None,” and even more surprised that he claimed not to mix business with pleasure. You could think of at least three coworkers you suspected he fooled around with. At least so they bragged in the ladies’ room.

“So why bring me home?”

“‘Cause you asked.” Toji said gruffly.

“You fuck every woman who asks you to?”

“Only the cute ones.”

Your cheeks flushed red as you reminded yourself to take his words with a grain of salt. He wasn’t interested in you any more than you were in him. This was simply platonic—almost transactional. He’d do what you asked, and then you’d pay him back with another, mundane favor like sorting mail in his stead.

You finished your drink, your eyes licking up the remaining drops at the bottom of the glass. “This line works?”

Toji shrugged. It probably did. He probably didn’t even have to open his mouth for it to work. While the moment you opened yours—

“Want more?” He motioned to your glass. You nodded, extending your arm, only for his expression to turn sour. “I’m not your fucking maid. Bottle’s on the counter.”

You sighed, getting up so he wouldn’t see your eyes roll at his comment as he shoved his glass in your face. Who’s the maid now?

Aimlessly, you strolled into the kitchen, taking longer than necessary to fill both your glasses. You didn’t mean to start snooping around, but you couldn’t help yourself from seeking a sign of his presence in his picture-perfect apartment. Houses typically reveal something about their residents, and while the display of crystal glasses spoke plenty of his ex-wife, there was no evidence of Toji’s personality.

You weren’t interested in him—just curious. That’s what you kept telling yourself as you picked up a frame stowed away behind an empty cookie jar.

Four smiles greeted you, the brightest belonging to a young girl with elongated bangs, holding a boy who strove to copy his sister’s expression. Their parents stood behind them, a beautiful woman with long brown hair tucked in a ponytail blissfully leaning against the shoulder of a Toji that seemed less happy the longer you processed his strained features.

“She left.” The proximity of his voice startled you. The frame danced between your fingers until he snatched it, his jutted-out chin betraying his annoyance. “Took the kids, left the house and me behind. Ain’t that what ya wanted to hear?”

You shook your head, about to drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness on his parquet. However, the hostility that rose faded as soon as he threw the picture in the first open drawer and returned to the living room, leaving you to fetch your drinks. Then you remembered the phone calls. They weren’t on good terms.

“Having kids isn’t bad. Nor being divorced.” You handed him the glass, assuming your previous position on the couch. “Doesn’t ruin your cool guy image whatsoever.”

“Who said I care about that?” Toji snorted.

“Then you wouldn’t care if anything slipped in front of your fan club?”

“Mind your own fucking business.” He hissed. You chuckled. Sharing a couch wasn’t that much different from sharing a desk, and sharing two secrets was the same as sharing one.

“What are your kids’ names?”

“Kid,” he corrected. “Megumi.”

By the name, you assumed it was the girl. You were wrong. You tried to ask something about his son’s mother, but somehow you couldn’t find one right thing to say, since the woman in the photo wasn’t the boy’s biological mom either. You were lost. The more cryptic answers he gave, the more unanswered questions you ended up with.

Your plan took a backseat while Toji trod the sensitive topic of his divorce to that “bitch,” who’d taken his kid from him out of spite. The custody battle was tipped in her favor, courtesy of a legal system that’d rather see a child separated from its biological parent in the face of cold cash.

Megumi only visited every second weekend of the month, which explained his father’s eagerness to leave early on certain Fridays and come late on the following Mondays. He didn’t need to say this, but you understood his reasons for cheating his way into the company. A proper job looked good in court, and whatever earned him those scars was far from proper.

Both your hands emptied as you finished your second round of drinks. Your head would be buzzing if there was alcohol involved, but you didn’t miss it. Toji was hard to engage, and talking to him felt like running into one brick wall after another. However, working out of those dead-ends was preferable to clinking glasses with some guy who wouldn’t quit boasting about his Ivy League diploma or his burning passion for vocaloid singers—both cases reflecting the sad reality of blind dating in your twenties.

“So.” Toji drawled, a burly arm stretching behind your head. “Why you want me to fuck you? Can’t find good dick in the market?”

Your mind went blank in an instant, every excuse and curated version of the story vanishing when you needed them the most.

“I—um,” you cleared your throat, while your eyes scanned over his body.

There was a lot to take in: the fine lines of his pecs, highlighted under the taut white fabric; the black tie hanging loose around his unbuttoned collar; the hem of his shirt that dangled out of his fitted pants, exposing the tiniest window to the happy trail on his lower abdomen; his slim waist and his thick thighs; the curve of his bum; and the light touch of his fingers closing around your shoulder. You traced the same route of landmarks, finding yourself returning to his achingly handsome face and the playful curiosity in his eyes that had you shifting in your place.

All the reasons for someone to want to be fucked by this fine specimen of a man were right there, and you picked the most inclusive one. “Because you’re hot.”

The ends of his scar drew apart as Toji smiled a wolfish smile. He inched closer, your back hitting the armrest when his right hand caged your body between his arms and the couch.

“Bullshit.” A tickle from where his nose brushed against yours, and a thud from where your heart dropped inside your chest. “You think I wouldn’t know if ya had the hots for me, kid?”

“N-not everyone throws themselves at others.” You tried to reason.

“Maybe. But attraction comes with signs.” The side of his hand grazed the corner of your eyelid. “Batting your pretty lashes,” he trailed off, rough knuckles softly tracing the apple of your cheek. “Blushing your cheeks red.” The pad of his thumb swiped down your cupid’s bow. “Biting your lip raw.” He continued with his eyes, glancing at the skirt that lay high above your knees suggestively. “Pressing those plushy thighs together.”

“You do none ‘f those things.” Toji accused. “So why the sudden itch? Indulge me, and I’ll pound that pussy till ya scream.”

The promise of his words forced a gulp down your throat as your thighs involuntarily rubbed together. You started to reconsider. You didn’t want to fuck him just because any man would do. You wanted to fuck him because it was him and because every patch of skin he made contact with begged to be touched again.

“I’m a virgin.” You admitted, voice low, and stare even lower—utterly defeated as he flinched away in surprise.

You wondered what he’d say. A virgin at your age? was the most common response, followed by Is something wrong with you? and typically concluded with You sure you’re not a lesbian?

Everyone preaches how precious innocence is, but no one wants the pressure of taking it. What men really want is a woman who is both a saint and a slut—a woman who can suck their dick ten inches deeper than they can provide while simultaneously shying away from every insinuation of sex.

The problem is with the poor souls who belong in either category without adhering to the other, because squeezing your legs shut is just as faulty as spreading them open for the public.

Seeing as Toji remained silent, you realized you wouldn’t get an answer, and maybe it was for the best. You didn’t want to put a strain on your work relationship. It’d take a while to look him in the eye again, but in a month or two, you’d laugh about the incident over a cup of soggy store-bought noodles like nothing happened.

“Sorry for bothering you.” You mumbled as you picked up your last vestige of dignity and stood on your feet, only to be anchored by a set of fingers that tightly gripped your wrist.

“Sit.” His unfaltering gaze confirmed the sincerity of his command.

You thought about breaking free and dashing to the door. You thought about how much it’d actually hurt to let him ridicule you, and the tears started to build up on their own. And when you didn���t do as you were told, he towered over you with a palm that was eager to cup your cheek, tilting your face in position for him to print a rough kiss on your parted lips.

“I said fucking sit.” Toji repeated, while you contemplated how someone who spews words so harshly could have such soft lips.

Sheepishly, you fell back onto the couch, expecting him to follow suit and not kneel on the floor like he did. “What’s the story?” He asked, large hands taking hold of your knees and slowly rubbing them apart.

“What makes you think there’s a story?” You prayed that he couldn’t feel your heartbeat bounce across your body as if it were an empty vessel.

“With you, there always is.” He licked his lips as his eyes settled between your thighs, darkening with lust the second they were met with the damp patch in the middle of your pink lace knickers. “Wanna hear all about it while I feast on your little hole.”

“You’re not gonna fuck—”

“First things first, sweetheart. Gotta make sure y’are all prepped before I stuff you with my cock.” Toji smiled, pushing your skirt until it rolled over your stomach. “If ya gonna scream my ears off, better be from pleasure, mm?”

You nodded, watching as his slender fingers slid your underwear off and temporarily—you hoped—shoved it in his back pocket. You saw him marvel at the sight of your exposed cunt and wished you could peer into his brain to hear him curse himself for not coming up with this idea first.

You looked so pretty down there, your puffy clit safely tucked behind its hood while your lips shimmered with your wetness—the scent so intoxicating his pants tightened into a size too small.

He was already considering his next favor. Now that the door was open, he’d make sure it never closed again. Bending you over the copy machine was the front-runner. Getting a print of your tits squeezed against the scanner while he blows your back, his palm muffling out the pathetic sounds you let slip—he’d be lying if that wasn’t what he fantasized about whenever you refilled the ink cartridges for him.

“Ya ever touch yourself here?”

His thumb swiped over your clit, drawing an incomplete circle that ended with light flicks around the sensitive nub. Left and right. Up and down. Searching for the combination that’d have your body answer in place of your mouth, and when your hips bucked forward, he knew exactly where to press.

“Y-yes!” You whined, more as a reaction than an answer to his question.

“And ya ever push a finger in?” He continued, teasingly dragging his thumb between your lips.

“Just one. Rest hurt.”

“Mhm, bet they do.” He hummed as he tasted you on his finger, exaggerating the suck with a soft pop. “Ever had a guy kiss ya there before?”

Toji gave his own answer as he buried his head in your pussy, the sticky mix of his saliva and your juices trickling down your entrance while he made out with your clit. You struggled to keep your thighs apart, the raspy grunts at the back of his throat vibrating against your mound in joint symphony with your breathy moans. His tongue felt so good soaking on your slick that you felt yourself melting into a pool of pleasure.

“Get talkin’ or I’ll stop.” He warned, slowing down with broad, near-maddening, strokes that occasionally dipped between your folds.

“I wanted to w-wait,” you panted. “Wanted to fall in love first, but then I waited too long, and—ngh, fuck, right there!” Toji pinched your folds apart, his stare lecherous as he sucked the puffy pearl into his warm mouth.

Your body jerked in response, the leather squeaking hard beneath your bared ass. You weren’t sure at what point interest surpassed curiosity, but the signs were all there, manifesting as heat in your cheeks and blood that threatened to drop from your chewed-up lip.

His jade eyes narrowed into a shrewd reminder. Putting your thoughts in order was impossible, but if you stopped, so would he.

“Everyone ‘round me started d-doing it, and I was the only one l-left.” You tried to regulate your breathing through your nose, your throat turning hoarse from all the strain. “Went on a bunch of blind dates, but the guys were t-turned off, and—how the fuck are you so good at this?”

Toji chuckled, the pink tip of his tongue parting your lips in a languid motion that made you shudder. “Let’s just say my marriage didn’t fall apart ‘cause of this.”

He mounted your knees atop his shoulders and neared your entrance, with his middle and ring fingers ghosting over the softness of your pulsing slit. “Gonna use my fingers now. Be a good girl and cum on them, will ya?”

The first digit pushed forward, much thicker than any of your fingers. You felt so full already—nails digging into the cushions, while he thrust in and out of your walls, curling the lone pad to find a spot so sweet it elicited a moan of equal sweetness.

“Ya did well to come to me.” He continued, his raspy voice effortlessly sexy. “Kids these days don’t know shit ‘bout pleasing a woman.”

The veins on his wrist flexed along with his scars as his ring finger joined in the action to defy your previous claim. There was no pain. Only immense waves of pleasure leaking through your squinted eyes as hot tears beaded your eyelashes.

“Doin’ so good for me, darlin’.” He praised, repeatedly hitting the swollen bundle of nerves inside your throbbing cunt, bringing you closer to the edge with each thorough pump.

“Maybe I was wrong, hm? Maybe that’s what ya wanted all along. I know I did. Fucking wanted my hands on this pussy since I first saw ya fidget with your little skirt at that interview.”

“Toji—”

He dived between your legs again, his hand maintaining the same erratic pace even while his tongue hungrily lapped at your clit. Your head lolled back, the tension in your guts rapidly building up until you came undone, your pussy clenching and creaming around his calloused fingers.

You’d never finished so hard on your own, the tremors of your orgasm ringing in your ears and jogging your memory.

Your first impression on that day was sadness, right? Sadness over the wedding band the handsome stranger hid in his pocket right before entering the building, thinking no one else caught sight of it, and embarrassment about how your impure thoughts for a married man followed you into the shower every night after work.

“Atta girl.” A present-day and very-much divorced Toji licked his lips into a smile. “Their fucking loss.”

His knee pressed into the gap between your thighs as he stood on his feet and prompted you to open your lips. You took his fingers in your mouth, licking your cum off while your chest heaved with one labored breath after the other.

“See how good ya taste?” Toji cooed, rhythmically fucking his fingers on your tongue before removing them. “Sweeter than honey.”

“Thought you didn’t like sweet things.” His coffee order came in mind.

“How ‘bout we make an exception?”

You weren’t sure what got into you when you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him forward, kissing him with such vigor you’d never experienced. You always thought of losing your virginity as checking an item off your bucket list. You didn’t imagine you could ever lust after someone the way you currently lusted after Toji, your desire escalating into an all-consuming need.

His tongue moved as skillfully in your mouth as it did when it explored your pussy, dancing with your own rather than overpowering it. You liked kissing him. You liked kissing him so much that you wanted to incorporate it into your morning hellos and your evening goodbyes, dragging yourselves into an endless loop of returned favors.

Without breaking the kiss, Toji hoisted you up from the couch and held you in his arms, his palms finding the perfect excuse to grab onto your ass while he carried you across rooms you didn’t care enough to see. A door creaked behind your back, and soon you were tossed onto a large body of endless softness—a bed, you realized as Toji hastily shoved a couple of pillows behind your head.

“Ever heard of that stupid nickname that goes ‘round work?” He whispered in your ear while his fingers worked on undoing your blouse. “How they call ya my work wife?” His palms slid around your ribs and back to unhook your bra. “Guess this makes it our wedding night, heh.”

You rolled your eyes, holding back a chuckle. “Don’t you feel any shame calling me your wife when you’re about to fuck me on your ex-wife’s bed?”

“My bed now, and what I say fucking goes.” He stripped your body from every garment, salaciously gawking at your nude figure on his (her) satin sheets.

You didn’t feel too bad about showing your body, but his stare was almost intrusive—especially with how he hadn’t lost a single article of clothing himself.

“Such a gorgeous body, wife.” He dragged out the final syllables, hoping to elicit a reaction separate from the soft pants you let out as he caressed your soft curves—both much softer than the bedding you were splayed across, liquid velvet in his hands. “Such a good little wife, saving herself for her husband to deflower.”

“Why thank you, husband.” You chortled, cupping his face in a deep kiss.

You knew Toji was the right choice. Not because touching him felt like winning the lottery or because he knew exactly what he was doing, but because he could’ve made this situation a lot more awkward and didn’t. He made your first time feel special, granting your wish of doing it with someone you loved, even if it was all an illusion that’d fade come tomorrow morning.

You almost thanked him as he began to unbutton his shirt, the display of corded muscles and pale scars breaking the dam between your legs. Whatever your type might’ve once been, was no more. It was all Toji, with his clenched fists lifting the weight of his brawny, veiny arms, his shoulders so wide you could ride on them, and the self-complacent smirk your stupefied expression brought to his lips.

“This ain’t an exhibit, sweetheart.” He mocked. “You can touch all ya want.”

He didn’t need to say it twice for your palms to roam his body, starting from his neck and slowly gliding down his torso, feeling out the tension in his steeled abdomen. His skin was smooth, except for the few unruly hairs leading down to the bulge in his crotch, whose sight alone made you lick your lips and buck your hips into his. You wanted to see the rest of him.

“You are the hottest divorcee I know.” You smiled earnestly.

“Ya know lots of ‘em?” Toji cocked his head while you shook yours with a giggle. “Don’t be so flattering.”

“I do have a great-aunt…”

“Oh, please.” He groaned, allowing you to laugh it out. He didn’t like how his bottom lip twitched as he struggled to contain a chuckle of his own. He’d long sworn off girls that made his heart skip a beat.

“Think y’are ready?” You nodded. Repeatedly.

Digging his knees into the bed, he stretched an arm toward the nightstand, fishing for a bottle in one of the drawers. Lube, you realized as he settled it beside you to remove his pants, flinging them along with his boxers to the other side of the room.

Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, an expression that didn’t look too good considering fear was about the last emotion you should be experiencing.

He was packing in every sense of the word. Long, thick, and definitely heavy as it hung above his hefty balls, the reddened tip pointing at your entrance. It wasn’t like you’d never seen a cock before. Porn existed, and so did perverts in trench coats, but comparing either one to him was both disrespectful and a huge understatement.

“Don’t go cold on me now, mm? It will fit.” He read your mind, taking your hand in his and slotting the bottle in your fist. “Prepped you so good for it. You’ll see; you’ll like this more than my fingers.”

“Promise.” He added, squeezing your hand reassuringly. You chose to trust him, and when he brought your other hand to his shaft, you knew what he was asking you to do.

The bottle spurted a thick glob of liquid that your palm smeared all over his cock head. Toji watched with bated breath as you stroked his length, each thorough pump of your delicate hands warming him up.

He deserved a pat on the back for not cumming right then and there—the distinction between the clear lubricant and his creamy precum becoming more prominent while he throbbed and twitched in your tight grasp. He thought about how much tighter your walls would be, milking every drop he had to offer while you writhed beneath him, with little ah-ah-ah’s and Toji please’s complimenting the squelching of your tight virgin cunt.

“That’s enough.”

He pulled your hand away and cracked the bottle open once more, rubbing a small quantity between his fingers and then scissoring them in your walls. You clung onto him, your hips chasing after his touch. Cute.

“Eyes on me, darlin’.” Toji leaned close enough so that your field of view was consumed by his face. “Keep your eyes on me, breath in ‘n’ out, and it won’t hurt one bit. I’ll take good care of ya.”

Your legs were parted as he ran his cock between your folds and pressed down firmly, his hand moving to your hip once he guided the first inches inside.

Toji was the first to react as he sank in deeper, about two-thirds in when he felt your pussy snare around him like a vice, the warmth of your walls making him curse under his breath. His last fuck was less than a weekend ago, and yet he felt like one of those loser kids he scorned earlier. He’d forgotten just how good being inside a virgin was—a one-and-done deal that would cease to amaze him after he fucked you into his shape.

“All good?” He remembered to ask, taking your strained yes at face value.

Small creases formed over your forehead, contorting your expression into a pained wince the further he sheathed himself into your wet cavern—and when his words weren’t enough, his lips took over. He kissed your worries away and cradled your breasts in his palms, doing everything in his power to keep the pain to a minimum as his hips met with your pelvis, bone against bone and skin against skin, until he finally bottomed out.

A whimper cut your kiss short, and for a second he feared tears would stream from your glassy eyes, not considering the possibility of your shaky legs wrapping around his back and your swollen, pretty lips calling out his name with a stuttered moan.

“F-fuck me, Toji. Please—fuck, I need you so badly.” You begged, dropping the pretense of composure.

“Yeah? Want me to fuck your little virgin pussy?”

“Y-yes, Toji, yes!”

“Yes, what, doll?” He teased. “Say it.”

“Please be my first, Toji.”

His grin turned feral in a heartbeat, your words stirring something in him that he could not explain.

He was prepared to spend the entire night fucking you at a snail’s pace, buttering you up with praises, and pampering you as if you were a golden egg goose, but now he didn’t have to. He could fuck you exactly how he pleased—fold your knees onto your stomach and hold down onto your thighs, pussy all exposed to where he could watch his cock pound into your hole and hear each and every strike of his balls against the fat of your ass—and you would take it.

But when he looked down and saw the ring of red that’d formed around his shaft, he had a change of heart. Maybe another time.

Planting his fingers on your hips, he withdrew slightly, purposely aligning his tip with the roof of your cunt. He didn’t have to go hard to make you happy. All he had to do was hit that one spot, and you’d be coming back for more. Having a steady thing wouldn’t hurt either. It was convenient—certainly better than burning gas driving across town just to pick up some random slut he’d tire of five minutes into her over-the-top screams. At least you lived close by.

With lavish strokes, he rolled his hips against your own, dipping forward to grind his pubic bone against your mound. It didn’t take long for the stimulation to get overwhelming, your hair falling from your strict work up-do all over your sweaty forehead while you thrashed around the sheets, huffs escalating into whiny moans.

“Sh-shit, gonna cum, Toji.” You managed, though there was no real need to tell him.

Your body responded perfectly to his, wetness gushing over his cock while your walls tightened impossibly around him. He fucked you through your high, wrapping his arms below your shoulders and muting your blissful sobs to chase after his own release. Your breasts were squeezed against his pecs, pebbled nipples making him regret not giving them the proper attention.

This wouldn’t be the last time. Your body was like a playground to him, and he sure as hell wasn’t done playing.

“My fucking work wife.” Toji grunted possessively in your ear, nipping at the lobe. Only his lower half moved, a constant snap of hips bouncing through the room as the second lewdest sound after the ones you traded. “Wanna send your ass crawling to work on all fours. That’ll show them, mm? Show them who fucked you so good. What a—fuck, what a good slut y’are f’me. From a virgin to my whore—hah, make ‘em all so jealous.

“Shhhhit, ya like that?” He interpreted your clenching as he willed. “Wanna start a rumor? Fuck on every desk, in every stall, and have everyone know?”

“Yes, Toji! Yesyesyes, want everyone to know you f-fucked me.”

You went back and forth between panting out his name and chanting yes, as those were the only two words you could mindlessly repeat. He wasn’t joking about making you scream. You were on the verge of passing out, so engrossed in ecstasy that you’d lost track of how many times you’d climaxed.

“‘s too much, T-Toji!” You begged, burying your head in the curve of his neck and breathing in his musk. You were both so sweaty, glued together like two puzzle pieces.

“One more, sweetheart. ‘m so close—wanna feel ya cum with me.”

He toyed with your clit until he started to fall out of pace, drawing his cock out before it was caught in the spasms of your pussy. A hefty load burst in his fist as he jerked himself off to your fucked-out form, hot drops of cum spraying your stomach like creamy droplets of rain.

Neither of you realized how soaked the sheets were until Toji left the bed, his eyes not faking their surprise. You didn’t seem to be in that much pain, and yet the amount of blood and wetness was at least equal to carnage.

Would it be a dick move to task you with his laundry?

He spared you a glance, not bothering to hide his smugness. Your legs were still trembling, your breasts puffing up in your struggle to breathe through your agape lips. He was tempted to tell you off—something cheesy like, “Want somethin’ in your mouth that badly?”

“Hey, kid. You are not dead—are you?” He asked jokingly, laughing through his nose as you found the strength to flip him off. Now that the effects of your orgasm were wearing off, so was your obedience.

“How’d ya like your first time?” A thumbs-up this time. “A’right. C’mere.”

The longer he let the stain settle, the more of a bitch it’d be to remove it. That’s what Toji told himself as he picked you up in his arms and carried you into the bathroom, returning to the bedroom only to roll the sheets into a ball he’d later discard in the washing machine. He wasn’t avoiding looking at your cute face, and he definitely didn’t think of your weakened infant-like state as cute when he scrubbed your thighs clean with a wet towel either.

A weird image sparked in his memory, one from the many nights you’d spent working side by side at a dimly lit office. He remembered you ordering him takeout and looming over his head like a vulture while he went neck-to-neck with the vicious spreadsheet program. You insisted on tutoring him, claiming your dressy outfit was a result of canceled plans—even though you kept stealing glances at the clock—and staying with him until the wee hours when you didn’t have to.

You really were a sweetheart, an angel, and all the other terms of endearment he used on you knowing they made your lips stretch and your eyes sparkle. But that wasn’t for you to know.

“Toji?” Your voice jolted him out of his reverie—frail, but not as frail as the hands that wrapped around his own to snatch the towel.

What could he say to make you leave without any harsh feelings coming back to bite him in the ass?

He pondered his options while you bent forward from where he’d seated you on the counter by the sink. You held his limp dick in your palm, gently wiping the dried blood and cum that clung to his girth.

It was sickening how quickly he stiffened, all ready to ram it in your pussy and fuck you with the mirrored view of your ass in the backdrop, but what truly made his guts churn was the little cheeky smile you beamed with. He stood by his words. Virgins were the biggest sluts.

The towel dropped to the floor as you pointed his cock at your entrance, and that was all the convincing he needed.

“Fine.” Toji sighed, pinning your wrists on the cold quartz counter top. “You can stay the night, but mention work and I’m kicking ya out.”

This is definitely not how you say it.

You made it to the office the next day after a brief raid on your apartment. Going to work in your previous day’s clothes screamed, “Look at me! I got laid!” And as fun as creating all those fantasies with Toji was, you could do without earning “Hated Employee of the Month.” Everyone hated you for being friends with him as is.

He waited until you’d changed into a presentable outfit and dropped you off a block further away for precaution. You shared your final kiss in the car, wasting a whole fifteen minutes sucking each other’s faces off like teenagers at a drive-in. Dating a colleague was against the rules, and you didn’t want to date Toji either. Not that he’d asked. Not that you expected him to ask.

Losing your virginity was a lot more complicated than you thought.

He counted on you to bring coffee, and you would have if an intense craving for spicy tuna onigiri didn’t win you over. The convenience store was right around the corner, and its coffee was honestly not that bad if you squinted your eyes and fooled your senses a bit.

You grabbed two onigiri from the stand—in case Toji felt like stealing yours—along with an apple juicebox, both as a means of thanking and poking fun at him. You paid for the items and walked to the office, nauseated by the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach. You should’ve really eaten something instead of having your final hookup at the breakfast table.

A few people greeted you in and out of the elevator to the forty-seventh floor, some commenting on your looking less gloomy than usual, but that was about it. The world spun the same way it did even before you had sex. No big change or mind-blowing epiphany; just a euphoric feeling of accomplishment that dissipated the moment you saw the stack of documents waiting on your desk.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Toji magically sprouted from behind, loaded binders balanced on his arms—the same arms that’d lavished you with affection all night long. “They had a fall out at one of the subsidiaries, and now we gotta clean up their shit.”

And back to reality we go.

“Where’s my coffee?” He searched for a cup on his desk.

You pushed your desperation aside and held the juice to his face with a smile that turned awkward the longer he took to accept it.

“It’s um, you know.” You stepped closer, placing the box atop his mountain of files. “Thank you.”

“Also, got you this, so don’t even think of taking mine.” You balanced the onigiri beside the juice and plopped down on your chair, an antsy, blushing mess that refused to meet his stare until he looped an arm around your headrest and attached his mouth to your ear.

“Care to do me a favor?”

#Toji x reader #toji smut #fushiguro toji #toji x y/n #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #toji <3 #toji headcanons #toji fic #toji x you #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[thelesbianthespianposts]

Rating superhero/villain dynamics on how gay they are

Batman/Joker:

do i even have to say it. Usually they have a pretty one sided thing with Joker being high-key obsessed with him but Batman has no interest in that at all. Way overhyped imo. bonus points for the Lego Batman Movie 7/10

Superman/Lex Luthor

despite many factors and the fact they have a son together, there’s not a lot of tension. Plus Lex gives major homophobic vibes, (he’d make pride lexcorp merch while backing don’t say gay bills)

2/10 for kon

Green Lantern(Hal Jordan)/Sinestro

oh my god. They have the whole friends to enemies thing that you could swap for lovers to enemies so easily. The worst exes you’ve ever seen. I think they’re actually a couple in some comics (prolly an AU). That one episode of DC Super Hero Girls (the new one) where Hal fights both Sinestro and Carol and they’re said to be on the same level. good shit

10/10

Wonder Woman/Cheetah

it depends on the comic. Sometimes they’re very flirty and suggestive and other times they’re tearing each other’s clothes off bc the male author thought it’d be hot. I think that goes for a lot of woman/woman dynamics in comics tho. I honestly don’t get sometimes why they’re fighting bc they seem to have a lot in common.

6/10 they should just date

Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Jesus Christ guys wtf are y’all doing. They have the funniest dynamic in all of DC comics. Old ass ‘nam vet picks fight with 15 year old who he blames his son’s death on. While I adore the 2003 teen titans show, they got the dynamic so wrong. Their dynamic only becomes homoerotic once Dick is an adult. They have profound respect for each other but they also fucking hate each other. They’re enemies, they’re friends, they’re co-parents, they’re the least mentally stable people you’ve even seen.

20/10 unparalleled

#Yes I did make this whole post just to talk about the dick/slade dynamic #Note: I did not use their mask names bc their relationship is outside of mask work for the most part #smh these stupid gays #Don’t @ me for not liking batjokes I do like their dynamic but it’s very one sided to me #I ship all these people with different guys #Batman #joker #batjokes #superman #lex luthor #Idk their ship name #Hal jordan #thaal sinestro #sinhal #Wonder woman #cheetah dc #wondercheetah #dick grayson #slade wilson #sladick #dc comics

[s-brant]

okay for my steve girlies i’m just having some thoughts abt him as a boyfriend rn that i cannot get out of my head so you’ll have to put up with this.

as a partner i feel like he’d be the most touchy person on the face of the earth. constantly having his hands on you in a casual way whether it be holding hands, pulling you onto his lap to sit there even when there’s a spot open right next to him, standing behind you with an arm wrapped around you, playing with your hair/clothes/jewelry, and so on. he’s probably very touch-starved so i feel like he would be on you 24/7 and very shameless in terms of PDA because he’s just dying to have someone to love. robin and dustin would fake gag in the background but he could care less. also he gives me the vibes of someone who is just constantly warm. like the human incarnation of a furnace, so cozy and inviting in terms of cuddling.

boyfriend steve in season two was very cute to me (i.e: him coming to apologize with flowers even though he literally didn’t even know what he was sorry for because she was the one who hurt him, trying to cut her off when she was drinking too much/take care of her) so i can only imagine he’d be an even sweeter boyfriend in the later seasons with his character growth. i picture him being chivalrous for some reason, like always opening the car door for you, wordlessly taking off his jacket to put it over your shoulders when it’s cold and you stubbornly didn’t wear one, and not wanting you to pay for dinner even though his salary at family video is probably not that great. long story short he is a simp and very romantic. i feel like that’s just canon at this point but i digress.

anyway for the sexy stuff you’re gonna have to go under the cut

okay here we GO

i personally feel, despite my love for the kinkier fics, that steve is pretty vanilla in bed. at least, until he’s exposed to something new by a partner? like i feel that he would be open to trying certain things with you because duh you’re you and he loves you and why wouldn’t he wanna try slightly freaky shit with you, but it’s not something he just thinks up himself if that makes sense? but that doesn’t mean he can’t rock your world, let’s be 100% clear on that. this man eats pussy like it’s a five course meal and i will die on that hill. he’d get so into it, his eyes would close and he’d make soft little noises into you every time you pull on his hair UGH. you sitting on his face is probably his favorite thing you two have ever done because, honestly, suffocation between your thighs is a great way to go as far as he’s concerned.

also, it’s canon at this point that he’s hung right? did that originate from joe keery’s bulge in those tight ass vintage levi’s? probably, but it’s a steve thing now and i wholeheartedly agree with the fandom’s unanimous decision that he has unparalleled big dick energy. that being said, i also feel like he knows how to use it. a lot of well endowed guys aren’t that great because they’re like “oh i have big dick so sex with me is good already and i don’t need to do anything” but steve is a ladies man. he knows what he’s doing, and he doesn’t even need the buffer of kinks and shit to fuck you stupid. and he would be soooo cocky about it. i feel like he would be into degradation and dumbification a bit. he loves the fact that you are basically rendered useless when he’s fucking you open with his thick cock, caging you in with his arms by your head and cooing at you while the room is filled with the wet sound of him pounding into you. the filthiest he gets is whispering stuff like, “look at you. hardly even fucked you yet and you’re already a dumb little slut for me, huh?” like he can get nasty but i feel like it wouldn’t go far beyond dirty talk like that.

then there comes the hopeless romantic in him that cannot resist the opportunity to make love to you. i fully believe he is one of the people who seeks out that type of intimacy more often than the type in the paragraph above simply because he is so needy to be loved. his parents literally have never been in the show and never seem to care, he hasn’t had a steady girlfriend since nancy, and he doesn’t exactly get affection from other people in his life, so he would be absolutely insatiable with you.

his favorite kind of lovemaking is that slow, barely conscious morning sex when the two of you wake up right as the sun’s rising and he is faced with the realization of how much he loves you in those quiet moments. he’d be so sleepy, most of his weight would be let go if he’s on top of you, but you don’t even care because you’re caught on that hazy line between being asleep and awake as well, and the pleasure of him fucking you is heightened by it. it’d be full of sloppy kisses and heavy-lidded eye contact, both of your noses brushing with every deep thrust he makes into you. sometimes you’re on top though, and for those times he’ll just wrap his arms around your back to pull you down so you’re chest to chest while you do the work, albeit very lazily, and enjoy the sight of you. his favorite position for this lazy morning sex is when he’s spooning you tho. it happens the most often anyway, when he wakes up hard and naturally starts grinding into you from behind, which then escalates as normal. he’d keep a hand on your face to keep it turned for him to kiss your mouth and cheek though. just because he’s behind you doesn’t mean he won’t long to see your face and kiss you during.

i also feel like there would be a natural dominance to him that’s unrelated to any actual bdsm or dom/sub thing but rather his default disposition with you. he could definitely get down with being in a more submissive position sometimes and allow you to take care of/worship him—which would probably leave him with teary eyes by the end because of how overwhelming it is—but he gives me a lot of casually dominant energy. he loves sneaking into your bedroom in the middle of the night and fucking you with a hand over your mouth right across the hall from where your parents are sleeping, whispering to you that you have to be quiet and good. he also loves manhandling you, it turns him on unlike anything else to just toss you down on his bed and rip your clothes off because he can hardly wait to be inside of you. it’s also little sfw things like knowing what you like from your favorite take out place so he just orders for you or stopping to tie your shoe when it comes undone because he just loves taking care of his girl in the most innocent ways as well as a sexually.

he has a breeding kink by the way. it’s not something he acknowledges as a kink officially or even fully realizes, but considering that the man wants six children in canon, i feel like the idea of getting you pregnant, or even just coming inside of you whether or not you’re on a contraceptive, definitely gets him going. and if you are pregnant eventually once/if you two decide it’s what you want, forget about it. my god, he would be on you all the time. he’d love having you ride him with your breasts bouncing and a bit fuller from the hormones, your belly protruding with a bump as an undeniable piece of evidence that you’re his. it just checks all the boxes for him. i also believe that his chivalrous behavior would increase tenfold when you’re pregnant. in the later months, you physically cannot tie your shoes so he is right there to help you. he’s always extending his hand to hold while you walk, walking with his body closest to the street and yours closer to where it’s safer, and in general being even more of a simp than usual. if you thought he was a gentleman before, when he knows his baby is inside of you, he’s literally trying to do anything and everything he can for you.

now don’t even get me started on him as a dad. this has gone on long enough.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #fem reader

[starryeyedadmirer]

Ross Lynch: After the Show

-Ross x Reader-

!!CW!! — Belly Worship (Playing, Rubbing, Kissing, Licking), Navel Worship (Fingering, Kissing, Kissing, etc.), Smells/Odors

Synopsis: The Driver Era has just concluded another show… and, after doing his thing onstage, Ross is a complete wreck. As his assistant, it’s your job to get him dressed and ready for the band’s upcoming fan meet and greet… but, while you’re fixing him up, the two of you get a little carried away with one another.

Words: 4.83k

A/N: This writing is SUPER fan-fictiony… like, reads like the stuff that they make fun of on TikTok fan-fictiony… but I figured that I’d go ahead and tweak it a bit, and post it anyway. It’s not my best work… but it’s one of my first serious writings, and I do still enjoy reading it (for what it is)… and hopefully you do too.

Wattpad Link — “Celebrity Worship Fics” Series

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The Driver Era's show in Houston, Texas, has just wrapped up — and, as per usual, it was spectacular! The band, the crowd, the music, the vibe... everything was just perfect... but, as always, Ross was a total standout — rocking out like a beast, in the middle of it all. It's such an unparalleled experience, watching on as he loses himself on stage. The way he performs... it's like he becomes a different person — at one with the music, and deeply connected with everyone in the crowd — and tonight's show was no exception. Like always, he got super worked up, an slipped out of his shirt halfway through the set... then, toward the end of the night, he rid himself of his shoes and socks — tossing them into the crowd. By the end of the act, he was half naked onstage — dancing around, in only his pants and underwear... and sweating his perfectly round ass off, in front of hundreds of people.

Now that the show is through, the only thing left for him to do is get dressed, and head off to a private room, for a short meet-and-greet backstage. It shouldn't take him that long to get himself situated... but after the incredible performance that you've witnessed this evening, his fans may have to wait just a little longer for their chance to speak with him.

                            ———

"That was incredible!" You call out to the band, from your chair — a tattered, metal barstool, sat just offstage. "You guys killed it! Yeah! That was amazing!" You could almost pop a lung as you join in with the crowd's wild chanting of the word 'encore.' After screaming like a crazed fan all night, echoing every word that the symphony of voices says, you just can't contain your excitement. It's only natural that you let it out. "Encore! Encore! Encore! Woo!"

Waving their goodbyes to the audience, and blowing a few frenzied kisses out into the packed venue, the guys come puttering down off the stage — walking shoulder-to-shoulder, with their guitars dangling at their hips, and their bodies heavy.

"That was fucking awesome, Dude!" Ross shouts into Rocky's ear as the two of them approach you — competing with the roaring horde to be heard. "The crowd was great tonight! I think this may have been our best show all tour!" With his muscle-bound arms held above his head; his bare chest dripping with white sweat; and his hairy pits, and thick treasure trail out on full, wet display, Ross looks absolutely unreal to you... like some sort of bad-boy angel, stepping down from heaven's stairway.

You've had the entire span of the front end of the boys' national tour to get used to the sight of Ross's body... to shake the nerves, and tame your mind, whenever you see it... but after being with him for so many weeks — working as his assistant — you're still an anxious wreck. Every time you catch even the slightest glimpse of his exposed flesh — whether it be his toned, hairy underbelly, his bulging biceps... or even something as inconsiderable as his ankles — you're overcome with that same old fluttery, sick feeling... the one that makes your tummy turn, causes you to lose control of your body, and clouds your mind with nonsensical thoughts. You become a zombie — a dumb, clumsy mess.

You've embarrassed yourself in front of him more times than you can count — ran face-first into closed doors... tripped and fallen, over your own two feet... dropped everything in your hands — though he's never taken too much notice of your awkwardness. No matter how hard you try to shake them, the nerves just won't go away. Ross's allure is too strong to resist, you simply cannot fight it.

"Yeah... sure, bro." Rocky replies, pulling Ross's guitar off from his side — visibly exhausted. "Hey... I'm gonna take this from you and skip ahead, alright. Maybe meet with the fans a bit earlier than we planned. That cool? I know we've got, like, half an hour before the thing starts... but I'm super tired... and I think it'd be cool for some folks to get a chance to hold our guitars. Plus, I figure it'll give you time to change into some new clothes. No offense, but you look fucked up right now."

You feel yourself getting anxious with every step the boys take... too uncoordinated to get up from your seat without falling over, but far too excited to stay sat. It's like you could burst at any moment... scream at the top of your lungs, and spill your guts all over the place. The sweaty, disheveled rockstar is already messing with your head... and he hasn't even looked your way yet.

"Sure. No pro—"

"Yeah! That's no problem at all, Rocky." You butt in, awkwardly rising up from your seat — your knees wobbling like those of a newborn horse. "That's totally fine. You go ahead, and start early. I'll take Ross back to the room, to go change. I should have him back to you in about... ten minutes. Shouldn't be too long. Is that Cool?" You have no idea what you've just said... why you even opened your mouth. Once again, you've made a fool of yourself... and this time, Ross has taken notice.

Staring at you with a twisted brow, Rocky nods his head, and places his brother into your custody — pushing him onto you. "Yeah... whatever. I'll see you two in a couple minutes... I guess. Don't take too long."

"Alrighty then, Ross. C'mon... let's get you changed." Careful not to be too handsy with him — in such a jittery state — you take a loose hold of his left wrist, and toss his arm across your shoulders... smearing his thick sweat all over the back of your neck. "Uggh." You mutter to yourself, getting your balance as you watch Rocky walk down to the greeting room. "You're soaking wet. This all sweat? Or did you pour water on yourself again, when I wasn't looking?" His putrid body odor swiftly rushes into your nostrils — a sour musk... like cheese and onions, or an old bag of sour-cream-flavored chips. It's an odd smell to process... a disorienting stench , that takes you aback. "Woah... and you stink too."

Your nerves slowly begin to settle — halting their restless dance, at the mere inspiration of Ross's B.O. — allowing you to calm your mind, and regain control of your movement. It isn't at all what you had imagined his scent to be, when he and Rocky were coming down from the stage... not the same fragrance that he had before the show. He smelled strongly of fruit-producing flowers, and expensive cologne at the top of the band's set... soaked with the cologne that you'd been asked to spray onto his clothes, prior to him going out onstage. You breathed him in at least a thousand times before he took his place behind the microphone — burned his flowery, pre-show scent into your mind — and, although his post-performance musk isn't as pleasant, you waste no time to file it in your brain as well... deeply inhaling his air, until it no longer stinks.

It doesn't take much time for you to come to enjoy the odor... to love it the way that you've come to love every other unsavory smell that his body produces. His musky armpits, after a full day's work... his horrible breath, before you've brushed his teeth in the mornings... his silent farts, that he thinks go unnoticed — you've endured them all... and, with time, eventually grew to enjoy them. This odor of his — though it's new to your nostrils — is no different from the rest... it's heaven. Taking deep breath after deep breath, you walk him back to the prep room — reveling in the atmosphere of his new aroma.

"The greenroom is just up the hall." Ross guides you — staggering at your side, as you uphold the brunt of his bodyweight — beginning to come down from his emotional high. "Just go down these stairs... then it's the third door on our left. First two are janitor's closets. Learned that the hard way." In his half-dreamy daze, he seems to have forgotten that you'd been hanging out in the greenroom with him before the show — standing idly by, while he prepared himself for the performance. He must not remember you being in the room at all. The loud sound of your nervous gulping; your shoes squeaking against the polished concrete floor; and the curiosity of your wandering eyes, examining every inch of him... it's all vanished from his recollection. Good.

"Um... thanks for the pointer." You reply, going along with his direction. "God knows I would've been lost without it. I've got no mental map of this place. It's like a... like a huge maze."

———

The two of you squeeze through the narrow doorway together — leaning hard against one another, until you're nearly glued at your sides, by his sweat — and situate yourselves just behind the threshold. "Alright." Ross groans. "I'm not gonna lie to you, my arms are fuckin' dead right now... and my legs are killing me. There are some clothes over there, on that wall in the back... okay. I'm gonna need you to help me put on a decent shirt." He nods his head in the direction of the old rack of clothes — slanted up against the wall, and full of stuff that you could've sworn you've seen him wear already.

"Okay... sure." Hesitant to let him go, you make your way over to the shabby bar of metal. "Hey, um... I know you don't need to hear it from me... but, you guys were really great up there tonight, Ross... especially you. I know I say it a million times every show, and I should shut up... but I totally agree with what you said to Rocky... about tonight being your best performance by far. You weren't wrong."

"I know, right?" He giggles, like a shy child. "Everything was perfect tonight. Things couldn't have gone any better."

"Yeah, well... somehow, you always manage to top your latest show. Who knows how good tomorrow night's gonna be, huh?"

"Out of this world, I hope... if tonight's anything to go by. Ya know, I never knew you were such a fangirl... that's kinda funny."

"Yeah... I guess I am." Your hands start to shake as you browse through the limited selection of shirts. For the first time since you started working for him, you feel seen, and present... like you're not just taking up space in the room anymore. "Can you really blame me though? You guys are great!"

"Thanks."

"Now... um... my only suggestion for you, Ross... and I'm serious about this... is that you could start making an effort to keep your clothes on. Let me know if I'm out of line here, but you've had to change your outfit after almost every set. That's a little crazy, don't you think?"

"So what? It's just a couple of shirts... and maybe some shoes, here and there."

"I know. I'm just saying... as your assistant... you should really try and keep your clothes on next time. I feel like I spend more time watching you... change... than I do watching you perform. Maybe you could take them off when you're meeting with your fans! Strip out of your shirt... maybe show your feet in photos. I know they'd pay top dollar to see you shirtless... and barefoot. It's just a thought, though."

"Hmmm... I guess that's not a bad idea. I'll sleep on it tonight."

"Yeah... yeah, okay. What... uh... what do you wanna wear tonight though? Looks like there's a white, plain shirt over here. This pink one? Hawaiian flowers? Leopard print? Oh, and about your pants? You may need to throw some on, unless you're fine Donald-Ducking it out there."

He looks at each piece of clothing as you list them off, and takes a second to think. "Yeah... I'm gonna need a fresh pair of pants too. Between you and me... I'm kind of a swamp down there right now. My ass is like a fucking river... and my balls are swimming. I could use a pair of jeans... to cover it all up. I'm gonna need another set of socks and shoes too. Oh, and grab me that pink shirt... with those ripped denims, please. The distressed ones, on the other side of the rack."

"Sure." Careful not to shake the long rod from the wall, you pull the pink shirt and ripped jeans off of their hangers, and hold them up together. "Here you go." You call out — giving Ross a heads up as you pitch his outfit to him. "Your shirt, and pants. I'll grab these black socks from the floor... and these checkered slip-ons, over here. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Toss 'em my way."

"Cool. Here you go." You sloppily tuck a single sock under the tongue of each shoe, and chuck them in his direction. "Coming at ya!" Confident in his ability to catch the flying footwear, you continue looking through the selection of clothes — double-checking for any other pieces that he may want... though nothing looks too promising. Aside from his typical choices of shirts, pants, and shoes, there are a few cool jackets hanging on the rack — made of leather, and what you can only assume is some sort of chainmail. Curious, you grab one of them off the rack, and hold it up too. "Hey, Ross! Think this jacket would look good with that outfit? It's black... it could match!"

"N—No... I'm good." He replies, sounding as though he's struggling with something. "This stuff'll work just fine."

"You sure? You could... wear it around your waist... or, throw it over your shoulder, like fur. I used to do that back when I was a kid. I thought it looked cool."

"No. Mmmph... It's all good. I don't need anything else." Ross is too busy messing with his pants to realize that the checkered shoes have landed at his feet — having not made a sound upon coming back down to earth. He looks like he's having trouble with the button... fumbling it around with his fingertips, so that they appear to be getting the job done.

"Having trouble over there?" You ask him, sauntering his way, with a newfound confidence. "Do you need help? I can fasten it for you if you need." You don't give him a chance to answer before reaching out for his waist... your hands are just too curious for their own good. "Let me do it for you."

"No. I'm fine." He answers, moving away from you. "I got this. I don't need you to do anything."

The two of you tussle around for a short while, playing an unfriendly game of Tug of War, before he finally lets go. "Woah." You gasp as his pants drop to his ankles — just narrowly missing your fingertips. "You do smell like a swamp, Ross. That's... that's awful." The musky stench of his sweaty, unclean ass, and sticky balls wafts into your nostrils... radiating into the air, along with the heat from his body. He smells like an over-crowded sports locker room... or a dirty bathroom... an odor that takes you completely by surprise. "I can... um... give you some privacy if you wanna change into some underwear that aren't sweaty. They're right over he—"

Again, your body takes over... and, this time, it's leveraged control over your eyes. You can't stop yourself from peeking at his bulge... the impressive lump of mass at that protrudes from the front of his underpants. Though it doesn't smell the best, it looks rather shapely, and it takes up a decent amount of space in the room. Its bigger than you would've ever imagined it to be... and, as if it couldn't get any better, a thick, dark trail of curly hair peaks up over the waistband of his boxers — meandering up his stomach. "Sorry." You mumble under your breath. "I... uh... they're right over here."

Regaining your self control, you break eye contact with his meaty bulge and crouch down — grabbing hold of the fallen trousers. Before you can sneak another peek, you hike his pants up over his waist, button them as quickly as you can, and zip them up — trapping the raunchy odor within it's denim prison once more. "Okay... there." You mutter to yourself. "Wow... that was... really something. Um... let's put on your shirt now, Ross. Give it here."

Wasting no time, he hands the pale pink shirt over to you, and holds his arms up over his head — waiting for you to lower it onto his shoulders. His armpits smell almost as awful as his nether regions, but it doesn't bother you. His stench his been sitting in the air just long enough to establish itself... and, now that it's left its signature in the atmosphere, you're senses are growing used to it. You lift the shirt up over his head, breathing in the smell of him, and drop each sleeve over their respective limbs.

"Thanks." Ross says to you, dropping his arms to his sides — his voice low and throaty. "I got it from here, okay. I can button my shirt and put my shoes on by myself."

"Alright... good." You let out a sigh of relief... feeling like you can finally breathe again. You don't know what you'd do if you would've had to put his shoes on for him... what your eyes would've fixed themselves onto, or where your hands would've wondered. You can give him all of the space that he needs and escort him back to his brother's side once he's ready, all without jeopardizing your integrity. "That's great."

"Damn... I know I stink, but is it really that bad?" He laughs. "You're sighing like you couldn't wait to get the hell away from me. Does my ass smell that bad?"

"No... no. It's not that."

"That's not it? What is it then?" He looks at you as if he knows exactly what's in you're head... like he can see all of the intrusive thoughts that are running through your mind. You're losing your composure with every passing second... crumbling under the influence of your dirty imagination.

"I don't... I don't know." You answer him — your voice trembling. "I just think I need some space right now... to... to get myself together. I don't know what's going on, but I really do think it's best you dress yourself." Your hands shaking, you make your way to the door and try to twist the knob to leave, but it won't budge. "Shit! Really? It's locked." Your skin is on fire as you continue to tug at the static doorknob. It feels like the room is burning down around you, and there's no way to run away from the flames.

"Dude, don't be so dramatic." Ross chuckles. "You're embarrassing yourself right now. You're not so good at pretending, you know. If you wanna touch me, just say so. And don't even try to deny it... cuz you're not good at hiding it at all."

"What? No! I—"

"You think I didn't notice you gawking at my cock a minute ago? I know you, man... I let you brush my fuckin' teeth every morning. Can't fake it with me. You looked like your were gonna bite it off while you were down on your knees. I thought it was pretty hot, if I'm being honest."

"No, Ross. That's not— was it that obvious?" Your hands still wrapped around the metal grip, you can't help but to laugh along with him. You must look so foolish right now, trying to break out of the room, with your tail so obviously tucked between your legs. It's almost shameful. He's right... there's no point in trying to pretend. You do everything for him, whether he realizes it or not... and, of course, he'd eventually start to pick up on even the smallest of your mannerisms. It's only natural. You can only imagine how Ross is perceiving you right now... especially now that you know what he thought of you... that you were hot.

"Yeah... it was. You can do whatever you want to me, okay. I literally give you all of my consent. I'd kill to feel anything else but exhausted right now... and I haven't cum all day... so go ahead. Have your way."

"Oh... okay." You quickly swallow your laughter, as the fiery heat pours out of you like molten lava, and the flames cool down. It's almost too good to be true, him giving you permission to have your way with him... a free pass, that you've been dreaming about having since the night of the first show. "I guess... if it's alright with you."

He meets you by the door — walking toward you with a lazy sway. "Yeah. It is. Now... you gonna touch me, or what?"

Unsure of where to begin, you reluctantly rest your hand behind his left ear, and drag your fingertips along the side of his neck. Almost instantly, he melts away at your touch... a big lump of putty in your hands. It's even more clear now that he's just as desperate as you... desiring more than anything to feel something other than perpetual drowsiness. "C'mon." He groans — his eyes half-closed. "Is this all you got? We've got less than half an hour before I have to be back out there. If you're gonna do something to me, you might as well do it now."

"Oh, yeah. I completely forgot, for a second. Rocky's waiting." Following his lead, you do exactly as he wants, and fast-track right into the action. You tighten your grip on his throat and force your lips against the other side of his neck... breathing in his stench as your mouth scatters a chain of sloppy kisses down to his chest, and leaving red love bites all over his skin. His diaphragm expands and collapses against your lips, in quick succession — inflating with anticipation at the crest of every breath. Your tongue flicks out between your teeth like that of a snake — gently brushing against his pointed nipples, one by one — and then makes its way down to his slutty little waistline, that you've spent weeks eying. You have a clear idea of where it wants to go... all the way down to that musky swamp, to get a mouthful of those smelly waters... but, just like before, the thick trail of hair on his stomach catches your attention. Your eyes lock onto it for a second time — and then, without a further thought, you flatten your wet tastebuds against it, taking in all of its salty bliss. Ross's stomach convulses — rising and falling in little bursts as your tongue wanders into his belly button. "Ugh," he moans, taking in a huge gasp of air, "That... that feels so good."

"Does it?" You ask him, wanting to hear him say it again.

"Yeah it does. You're... talented with your mouth. It's like you're inside me right now... like, licking me from the inside." Ross smushes your face harder against his stomach and pounds his hands on the door. His breath is picking up again, quivering like you've just hit the g-spot on his stomach — the center of his navel. "Fuck!" He can't keep his body still anymore... even as he leans over you. His legs won't stop trembling, and his back is like a wet spaghetti noodle. "Oh my god!" He cries out — his eyes rolling into the back of his skull. "W—Why does that feel so fucking good? Yeah, yeah... get in there! Use your finger."

"Mmm... okay." Slowly, you pull your tongue out from his belly button, and replace it with the top of your index finger. It feels like a rubbery little stud against your fingertip, a hard spot on his tummy.

"Ya know, I think I'm in love with your outie." You tell him, entranced by how strange it feels to the touch. "It's just so... weird... and sexy. I wonder if it stinks like the rest of you do—"

Just before the final word can jump out from your lips, Ross shoves his body hard against your face — smashing you between his stomach and the door, and overwhelming your nostrils with the sour stink of his sweaty navel. Each and every part of his person seems to excrete its own unique odor, all with their own variation of a potent sweaty stench, with the additional notes of something more... something that no other area shares. His armpits had an onion smell to them, like a bag of sour cream chips, or something like that; his crotch smelled of swampy waters; and his neck smelled like perspiration and weak cologne. His belly button, though, smells different... like it's sweat has been festering there for ages, there's nothing else to it. It's the most foul stench that you've encountered all night... something bitter... and yet, you enjoy it's aroma the most.

"How's it smell," he asks you, flexing his belly outward, "It stinks, right? How does it smell?"

"I don't know." You answer, grasping for the right words. "I... I can't place it."

"That bad, huh? Uhhh, that's hot."

With a sleazy smile fixed onto his face, Ross grabs your head and takes full control over you, moving your nose in and out of his belly button... nose-fucking it. "Woah!" He yells. "Fuck! Uhhh, that feels amazing. Ughhh, that's great."

"Yeah? You like tha—"

Just as he gets into his rhythm, on the 1s and 3s of his own beat, a sharp knocking sound echoes throughout the room. "What the fuck is going on in there?" Rocky's muffled voice calls out, "You guys fucking or something? We got two minutes 'til this thing is 'sposed to start, Ross! Unlock the door! Let's go!"

"Uhhh, fuck." Ross mumbles, letting go of your head. "Alright! I'll be out in a minute, Rock! Just... give me a sec!"

You immediately rise up from your knees and help Ross button up his shirt. "Okay, okay, shoes." He mutters to himself as you fasten the last few buttons. "There they are! I can put my own shoes on. Look...go hide somewhere. Behind that couch, maybe. I don't want to look too suspicious if Rocky comes in here. Go! Go!"

"Wait, but I haven't finished!"

"I know."

As quietly as you can, you duck down behind the couch, and listen out as Ross unlocks the door for his brother. You can just barely see it open from underneath the couch... the only thing that your eyes can make out are the bare backs of Ross's feet, and the fronts of Rocky's black sneakers. "Who were you talking to in here," Rocky asks him, sounding as though he knows what's going on, "All that screaming "Go, go," and shit? The banging on the door, and yelling "Fuck!" What was all that?"

"Nobody, it was a bug. I... was shoo-ing it away."

"Oh... okay."

"I'm gonna throw on some socks and be out in a second, alright."

"Good. I can literally smell your feet right now... and I'm not even kneeling down..."

"Yeah... it's bad, isn't it?"

"Just... get yourself together, and c'mon. You can bring that bug along with you too. I'm not that gullible, dude... they're in here somewhere. We're gonna need them there to take photos."

"Okay. I'll... un-shoo them, then." Nearly slipping out from the backs of his shoes, Ross closes the door as softly as he can, and turns around. "Well... you heard him." He says to you — just speaking into the open space. "You're coming with me."

"That's a good thing, right?" You get up from the floor, feeling somewhat embarrassed. That was a close one... you both know it... but you have no clue what you would've done if Rocky saw you. "You're cool with that?"

"Sure. You can snap a few photos... get people moving... and then, we can come back and finish up. I still wanna bust that nut... and, uh... apparently, my feet could use a good tongue-cleaning too."

"Okay..."

"Like I was saying, I'm just gonna put on some socks, and then we can go. Won't be too much longer."

You stand idly by as he slips on the socks that you'd tossed him earlier — forcing his beautiful, stinky feet into both pockets of fabric — and then, you escort him out of the room. You feel so dirty, like you've crossed the line with him somehow... and yet, you're so fulfilled. Your job isn't over until Ross sprays his load... and, by the looks of it, you'll be working for the rest of the night.

_________________________________

Thanks for reading❤️❤️❤️!!!

#starry eyes #ross lynch #ross lynch belly/tummy #ross lynch navel #smut fic #ross lynch smut

[nyaagolor]

Paldean Elite Four (+ Geeta) Headcanons

They've been on my mind recently bc of all the asks I got

Rika:

Rika is the office gossip QUEEN. She knows everything about everyone, so if you need or want to know something you ask her. She knows a guy. She also desperately wants to figure out what Larry and Geeta's Deal (tm) is. They bicker constantly, are insanely passive aggressive, but despite their opposing attitudes agree on most fundamental issues. They look like they hate each other, but Larry constantly takes on new responsibilities for the League and Geeta constantly showers him with raises and promotions. Rika has taken to snooping thru their emails and prodding Hassel for info, but he doesn't know anything either. It’s driving her nuts

Paldea had a Region’s Sexiest Man contest. Rika won. Women Want her. Despite this however she can only pick up women accidentally. If she actively tries to flirt she will fuck it up spectacularly. Just the in-universe version of this

Rika is actually on the payroll as the league receptionist and does that Elite Four thing as a side hustle for extra cash. She gets kind of embarrassed when you call her a receptionist during her Elite Four duties though because other regions often use her as an example of why the Paldean league is garbage (i.e. they're so understaffed even a receptionist can be on the E4. They must have grabbed the nearest person, etc etc). She puts on the vibe of someone chill but this in particular is a bit of a sore point for her

She hates dresses / skirts with a burning passion and refuses to wear them. If you give her a REALLY good reason it's a solid maybe, but good luck with that. She needs to stretch

Her Clodsire's name is Pancake :) I like to think all her pokemon are named after breakfast foods (which, btw, is her favorite meal of the day. She is easily bribed with good waffles)

She and Larry are drinking buddies. She does most of the drinking

Poppy:

Everyone in the league is very careful to alter their habits around Poppy. She’s small and cute and sweet and a little baby so the usual informal cursing (like Rika shouting that HR needs to “cut the bullshit”) or the smoke breaks on the roof (yes I think they all smoke) can’t happen when Poppy is around

The league spoils her rotten. Candy? Toys? Help with her kindergarten homework?? Anything for Poppy. Even Larry, who seems too strict or apathetic to care, has her drawings in his desk drawer and lets her decorate his ties. The toys in the lobby are also hers

Her parents are accountants who brought her to take your kid to work day and let her play with their Pokémon outside. Rika challenged her to a match as a joke because they had a cancellation and Geeta watched— but both were shocked that Poppy’s skill with her parents’ steel types and her own Tinkaton were unparalleled by anyone in the building. When another E4 member retired, the league decided to let Poppy battle under her parents’ names just to blow off some steam. Poppy gets to let out energy, her parents make extra money, and the elite 4 has a strong battler. Win win!

Poppy loves to braid and play with hair, so the other elite four members will often let her play with their hair and add clips while they work. Larry is Poppy’s favorite because he sits Very Very Still

If Poppy really likes the battle she had with you, she’ll give you a sticker. Geeta once walked into a meeting with a gold star directly on her forehead because Poppy stuck it there and she didn’t want to take it off where Poppy could see it, forgetting about it by the time she walked in. She later moved it to her jacket

She has nicknames for everyone except Rika, which drives Rika insane. Grandpa Hassel, Mister Larry, Miss Geeta (or Auntie sometimes) but Rika? It’s just Rika. It’s always Rika. When Hassel was babysitting her at his and Brassius’ home in Artazón, Poppy’s eyes went really wide and she asked if she had two grandpas now or if Brassius was just SUPER old. He found that insanely funny

Larry:

I saw a fic that had Larry naming his pokemon after Excel commands and I cannot stop thinking about it. It's canon in my heart. Btw if anyone knows this fic / the name pls lmk I can’t find it again but I remember his Flamigo was named COUNTIF

Larry is actually pretty wealthy, partially because he's raking in cash from his three jobs and partially because he doesn't spend money on anything but food and pokemon products. Considering that the Treasure Eatery feeds him for free and the pokemon products are provided or subsidized by the League, that leaves him with a LOT of extra income, which he uses to help out his friends or gym challengers with financial issues or simply buying them dinner

Someone added this on another post of mine but every single one of Larry’s passwords is some variation on “password”. He’s many things but creative is none of them. Also these tags are canon to me

In contrast to his outward grumpiness and seeming apathy, Larry is incredibly gentle with and good with kids. He is confident the future will be better because of them, and does what he can to encourage them. It's a big part of the reason Geeta picked him for the positions-- they have a pretty similar philosophy regarding children and the future

Geeta has been doing everything in her power to get him to quit his third job (which is not League-affiliated) because he does the best work of anyone around and his other boss is a complete and utter asshole. She's tried promoting him, telling him how valuable he is to the team, using raises, praise, and passive aggression, but nothing is working. At one point she even tried overloading him with hours so he'd be forced to quit something but that didn't work either. She's stumped. The man won't quit

That third job? I'm not actually sure what it is but I do have an AU where he's a hitman. Call that a business casuality ;)

Hassel:

He always keeps candy in his desk (and his coat pockets) because he's a teacher and wants to be prepared. It's the strawberry kind, yall know the ones. This came in handy when Poppy joined the league, so all the other members started doing it too

His family gets traditional tattoos all over, which Hassel likewise has. He'd never remove them, but still keeps them covered most of the time for modesty reasons. Brassius has filled in the gaps in the traditional dragon shapes with various flowers to show how Hassel has grown from but not forgotten his past. They look very cool and Rika is insanely jealous of that

This old man is way more fit than he appears. He's a sensitive sweetheart and prefers the arts to sports or battling, but he's still a dragon tamer and keeps up his workout regime quite meticulously. Peepaw’s fucking shredded

His favorite art medium is paint, and he loves it when the little kids have class so he can finger paint alongside them. His office in the League building is covered in art. Geeta thinks it's sweet how he remembers every piece and how emotional he gets talking about it

Hassel has a hard time turning off teacher mode, which makes his training sessions at the league insanely funny to watch. “Haxorus, we do not Guillotine our friends!”

He can, and frequently does, play classical Paldea guitar. Once his rock career fell flat, he started experimenting with the style of his new home region and fell in love. You can often find him giving impromptu concerts from his balcony in Artazon

Geeta:

As much as she micromanages others, she's more than willing to take any responsibilities herself if she can't find someone else to do them. Plumber cancelled and they need the sink fixed asap? Get her a hammer. Rika is out sick? She'll cover those emails. Part of the reason the league struggles to complain about her is that they know for all the work they're doing, she's doing double. This doesn’t necessarily mean she’s GOOD at it but she’s doing it

I’m not sure how I want to explain it backstory wise but a lot of her skin is crystalline just like the AI professors. She’s got a LOT of connections to Area Zero and her top priority is making sure nothing goes in and nothing gets out. The professor hates her. The feeling is mutual

No one has ever seen her blink

She’s incredible at traditional Paldean dances. When Hassel plays classical guitar, she’ll dance along, and it’s magical to watch

That whole thing about not being able to hold back during battles? It’s a PR thing to make kids feel better. She’s not very good at battling. Geeta is just like (gestures at her Avalugg) I just think they're neat

A huge point of contention between her and her employees is that she takes everything literally and is terrible at reading tone. Her gym leaders are scared of her and try to drop hints about things because they think they’ll be punished if they’re too forward, but all those hints go right over Geeta’s head. The gym leaders then think Geeta is ignoring them on purpose but she’s none the wiser. Everyone is losing.

#rika #poppy #larry #hassel #geeta #pokemon sv #mod vex #headcanons #I put this under a readmore but mobile is being weird I hope it sticks

[anarcho-smarmyism]

ok I told myself I was going to listen to the whole album and then post about it but JOLENE is making me lose my got dang mind . to remix a legendary song like Dolly Parton's Jolene on your FIRST COUNTRY ALBUM and to make it its own thing with its own vibe is so incredibly ballsy and for it to be THIS GOOD is fucking unparalleled, bravo

#when i post about #country music #you Have to imagine a texa accent. its the Rules #beyonce #cowboy carter #country #music

[myfaveisfuckable]

Shang Qinghua:

The guy's a head of logictics in a magic kung fu school in fantasy ancient China. Like his department is basically the normalest guys on the whole mountain. Also in the world where important characters' appearances range from 11/10 to 20/10 hes like a solid 7.

And no one knows he is the literal creator of the world they live in. As in, he's a writer who was reincarnated with memories into the world of his own novel. Like, ppl come to him if they need a roof one of their superpowered teenagers broke fixed and he looks at them and knows their entire life with all of the secrets and traumas they hide, ya feel?

And in addition to that, he's also, in this world, a spy for the demons and a trusted advisor to one demon lord. And eventually they get together. So like imagine if your school's head accountant showed up one day with a huge demon on his arm like Hiiiiiii this is my new bf one of the kings of Hell. And that's Shang Qinghua.

Zhou zishu:

I wanna start at how he's normal because it may not be obvious from images, but it's very clearly described in text (media is a book): he is described to have a face that's not very memorable (not counting the moments he's described from his bf's POV, but like ayy thats love), and tends to blend into background (to the point that theres a moment his fucking employer he was walking with forgot he was there), and thats just how he naturally is. But ALSO he is using disguises to look even MORE normal and average and unassuming. Like his 'just a guy' energy is off the charts and hes leaning into that further.

Ofc, going into how he's Not Normal, this helps him in his job of being a spymaster / head of assassination org working for the Crown Prince (eventual Emperor). This guy has committed soooooo many crimes. (Creating the spying&murdering government agency first among them in my opinion, but I know many other fans would point to murdering children and/or war crimes first.) And then the bastard man (beloved) is like hmmm i quit actually. and he just lies to the Emperor and leaves and goes to travel the countryside daydrinking and sightseeing. And being soooo totally normal that a fellow amoral murderous bastard he accidentally runs into takes note of him and develops a crush on him.

So like he's just a guy. He'll kill you. He's roleplaying being ye average household with a cannibal who found him in a ditch. His fucking vibe is simply unparalleled.

#poll #tournament

[quinloki]

Hi!! Could i get your opinion on the kinks marks, Face sitting and somnophilia with buggy, croco and mihawk?

Thx you <3

Oooooh, the polycule of the decade (I kid, kind of. Maybe. Talk about an interesting dynamic though >.>). AHEM - Sure, sure, I am going to say that I've been denying my love for Buggy for months, so I guess this is one way to help me admit my truth.

Also hey, I get to make Mihawk head canon on the fly, Let's Do This \o/

Lets do this one by Character - Alphabetically as you have already so thoughtfully provided <3 xD

Buggy:

Marks - Buggy doesn't strike me as an overly possessive type. He's certainly passionate enough to leave marks and get marked, but I don't think he's the kind of person that does it with intent. He rates a Sure for this, as in, he's not against it, but he's not giving it much thought either. At some point he does some serious introspection when you offer to get a tattoo somewhere that's his jolly roger. He doesn't know why the suggestion is hot as hell, he's never cared when anyone else on his crew got tattooed before, but you two go quite a few rounds that night.

Face Sitting - (Okay but that nose is like a wand bulb and I just... ) Ah, Buggy likes to give pleasure. He likes the praise that's won from your lips when he's making you feel good, and if his nose gives him an advantage then who is he to complain? This is a FUCK Yes, and he'll even detach his tongue (what a wonderful devil fruit) to push deeper inside you.

Somnophilia - Yes - Yes, but, he doesn't know it's a thing. So this poor man spends a few sleepless nights watching you sleep, getting riled up without knowing why, and probably worrying there's something wrong with him. He doesn't hide or handle stress well, so I'm sure it won't be long before you're asking him what's wrong and shortly after that when you're talking about it. With your consent in place the experimenting begins. He likes the soft moans and response in your sleepy body, but he's a flashy guy and it's a little too subtle.

Sir Crocodile:

Marks - Oh god you don't even know - I head canon Croco as very possessive. Bruises, marks, lines and splotches of rough pleasure, things he's pushed into your body. He loves it. You might not ever hear him say it directly, but it is fuel for him. A more Toxic Croc may brand or tattoo you against your will, but a more stable Crocodile will eventually ask if he could design a tattoo for you, or (depending on your kinks that he'd know so well) actually scar you.

Toxic or stable, a crocodile never lets go of what it catches.

Face Sitting - FUCK Yes - I just... I mean, I wrote 628 words inside of a multi-chapter fic that was sitting on this man's face while he just devoured you orgasm after orgasm. I don't know what more I could say other than he lives up to his name sake, because you are not going to be free of his jaws unless he's decided to let you go.

Somnophilia - I dunno - I don't think this is really Croco's vibe. I mean, I think he enjoys watching you sleep in a "they feel safe sleeping soundly around me, and I love that" kind of way. I'm sure watching over you while you sleep you'll move or moan or do something that also reminds him that there's attraction there, but I don't think he'd leave you sleeping at that point. He doesn't want to hear half-sleepy mumbled moans, he wants you to squirm and thrash under him, crying out pleasure and his name clearly.

Mihawk:

Marks - Sure/Yes - He's not against marking you, and he's definitely passionate enough to leave loving bites and bruises. But he's a legendary swordsman, and that means will and control. Almost unparalleled control, so I feel like he'd be sure and strong and incomprehensibly gentle. You wouldn't ever call his touch soft, or weak or anything like that. It's certain you're in the arms of someone who isn't letting you squirm away, but he will hold you in place with unyielding skill, and if you want him to leave traces of that skill on you, then he most certainly will.

Face Sitting - Yes - he's here for it, and has nothing against it, but I think he has a preference of having you on your back while he eats you out. It's a better view/angle for him, and there's a lot more options that way. Though, your back against the wall, him standing, holding your core against his face - that position for face sitting might just be his vibe.

Somnophilia - Yes - He would never admit to such recklessness, but Mihawk is enamored with you, there's simply no two ways about it. For him to focus on anything that isn't his swordsmanship means you've carved (heh) a place in his heart and life that's undeniable. It's complete and sometimes it's almost overbearing to him. He's not surprised to find himself turned on by your sleeping form, though he may grumble about needing more training (to himself). He does take some time to admit it to you and talk about it, and is certainly happy to have your blessing to do whatever he needs to help him take care of that desire.

And this unnaturally gentle and skilled man can have his way with you while you sleep and have you cleaned up and back in bed without disturbing a moment of your precious rest. Usually the only reason you even know anything happened is because your hair's damp in the morning from the bath.

Kinky One Piece Head Canon

#kinky one piece head canon #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #buggy the clown #x reader #buggy x reader #sir crocodile x reader #mihawk x reader