You Kids Are In Trouble

Videotapes

Hizashi x reader

Summary: Hizashi picks up a fan to bring back to his place to make a special little home movie ;)

Warnings: s m u t, swearing, Hizashi gets a little rough, and uhhh… a bit of yandere at the end… 

A/N: I hadn’t ever written Present Mic sm*t before, so i decided to give it a go. I couldn’t help but make him a little crazy at the end there. I am who I am.

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well, hes a fine young man. if you overlook the atrocisties

I should be on someone’s lap getting my neck kissed and ass grabbed right now 🙄

present for his beloved (mafia!dazai osamu)

warning(s): yandere themes, implied physical abuse, intimidation, broken darling

note(s): a little something i wrote for the lovely @vani-ya​, for her birthday 💕 I hope you like it!

You whimpered uncomfortably in his lap, heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

You hated being this close to him. His mere presence around you was suffocating, permeated with the scent of blood and gunpowder, and the scent of his cologne closing in on you from all sides. It made you sick to your stomach.

He was talking to someone across the desk, barking orders at them, as if you weren’t even there. One of his arms was holding your waist in place, while the other harshly gripped one of your frail wrists. That’s going to leave a bruise.

Out of the corner of your eye, you looked at the terrified man standing across from the wide mahogany desk. His skin had gone pale, and he looked ready to bolt at the first opportunity. You didn’t blame him. People don’t realize just how terrifying Dazai’s presence is until they actually face him.

He finished talking, and the man scurried out of the room as fast as his legs would carry him, leaving you alone with him once more. You trembled in his arms.

“Now, now, my belladonna. What’s the need to be so afraid?” he murmured into your ear, pulling you even closer, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You didn’t allow yourself to relax, more out of past experience than anything else. And sure enough –

“If you behave yourself, that is.”

An expression of pure, unadulterated fear crossed your face, and he laughed. It was a deep, full laugh, and you could feel it reverberating throughout his chest from where he had you pressed flush against it.

Trying to get a better look at your eyes, he moved a lock of your hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear. One of the many things you weren’t allowed to do was tie your hair. He liked it loose, framing your face, said it made you look even more angelic. That, and he liked to be able to grip it whenever he wanted.

“Let’s see now…what would my darling like as her present?”

“Present?” you asked meekly.

He laughed, “My, my, do you really not remember what day it is, belladonna?”

When you shook your head, his face lit up with a sadistic grin. Most days, you weren’t even allowed to leave your room, let alone the house you shared with him. You would never call it a home. The only time you did leave was when he took you out, and it was mostly to this dark monstrosity of an office, just so he wouldn’t get bored. There are windows but he always keeps them covered.

Neither his house nor the office have any clocks, so time seems to slip from you often. You’re lucky if you can tell night from day most of the time, and you know that’s exactly what he wants. He likes you that way: disoriented, compliant, and utterly helpless.

“How air-headed you are, my love.” He said in a patronizingly mocking voice, “It’s your birthday.”

“M-my birthday?”

“Mhm, and I want to let the love of my life know, burn it into you, just how much I love you. So, tell me, belladonna. What do you want for your present?”

There was a cigarette dangling from his left hand, and you hoped to God he wouldn’t just put it out on your skin like he always did. Thankfully, he actually used the ashtray resting on his desk this time.

The smile on his face was sickly sweet, completely out of sync with the harsh grip he had on your waist, fingers digging into your hipbones. Oh, well, what’s one more bruise to add to your collection? What do I want?

“I…I d-don’t know.”

He pouted in mock sympathy, “Really, now? Is there nothing you would like me to do for you? How about I loosen the collar?”

Your hand instinctively moved up to touch the metal adorning your neck. It was horribly constricting, and it used to hurt in the beginning too. It still did, but you had kind of gotten used to it.

“Or would you want to lose the cuff on your ankle? That would make your futile attempts to escape easier, wouldn’t it?”

The cuff on your ankle wasn’t attached to anything at the moment, but he never let you take it off either. It was convenient for him, in the way that he could fasten it up to whatever he wanted, and that it also served as a constant reminder to you of your own powerlessness.

Yet, when you looked down at the cold metal harshly gripping your ankle, your gaze was blank. What do I want?

You think you used to want to run, but…now you can’t see the point. Running will not help, because each time you have tried, he has caught in the blink of an eye, and each time he has caught you, he has made it hurt more than the last time. There is nowhere you can run where he won’t find you.

“No…” You whispered, curling up in his arms and trying to make yourself as small as possible.

“What’s that?” he asked, even though you know he heard you perfectly, “Did my belladonna say she doesn’t want to run?”

You shook your head slowly, and Dazai smirked. Forcefully gripping your chin with one hand, he turned your head to face him, “So, what do you want?”

You fumbled frantically through your head for the right answer, something that would satisfy him. You know there’s something specific he wants you to say. You also know what happens if you don’t say it.

“Y-you. I want…to be with you.”

He smiles and pushes your head down to rest on his shoulder as a lone tear leaks from your eye. Then he places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Good girl.”

Sexualizing that old man is a full time job

Pairing: Enji Todoroki x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ Only

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: authority/power-play, boss/employee relationship, age-gap, size difference/size kink, public heavy petting/fingering, rough sex, desk sex, praise kink, use of “good girl,” light choking/breath play, hand pressed over reader’s mouth, hair pulling, creampie (Enji is implied to be divorced, no cheating) trapped in an elevator for a while, so warnings for claustrophobia and elevators in general. 

A/N: Special thanks to @whats-her-quirk​ and @titan-fodder​ for reading over this bad boy, and extra special thanks to my power going out right as I was excited to post this. God how I’ve missed Endeavor. One horny thought turned into over 6k. Enjoy ❤️

Endeavor’s name and presence is all over his hero agency. On every letterhead, blazing neon red letters on the front of the building, on company sweatshirts and stamps, email signatures, and even every pen and notepad. Yet the man himself is hardly ever seen.

Working directly for the titular hero of the agency as his senior support staff means that you see him more than most, and even still, his flaming body is a rarity to you.

So it’s a shock to see him in the elevator this morning, fire extinguished due to the spacial hazard. He’s dressed casually, white dress shirt and navy trousers. It’s too early for his hero duties to begin, the clock having not yet struck 9 a.m.

“Good morning,” you whisper with your eyes averted; his proximity always makes you anxious.

“Morning.”

He greets you with a curt nod as you step into the elevator from the parking garage floor.

Your first instinct is to press yourself to the farthest wall away from him. There’s an obstacle, however, one of his many sidekicks already twiddling his thumbs with worriment against the right wall. Endeavor stands in the back left corner, arms crossed, muscles bulging. You stick to the front of the car, leaning against the cool wall near the control panel.

The top-most floor is where you’re headed—same as your boss.

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[anakin x reader x obi-wan]

THE LATE NIGHT THOUGHTS ARE PLAGUING ME AGAIN

warnings: smut, voyeurism (without consent), masturbation, reader doesn’t have a specified gender (but is probably mostly seen as afab)

—

You’re Obi-Wan’s lover and best friends with his ex-padawan Anakin. The three of you are incredibly close, always getting along. Anakin is aware of Obi-Wan and yours’ secret tryst-relationship-thing going on, but can’t help but start to become infatuated with you as well.

Of course, he keeps this to himself because he loves Obi-Wan, but sometimes the selfish thoughts would plague him as he wonders if Obi-Wan was worth your time, worth your love. A little voice inside him says no, I’m better for them, but then his rationale would rebuke him, stating that this thought path would only lead him down to trouble, that he must accept his brother got to you first.

But one night, Anakin passes by your room on his way to bed when he heard you mumble something inside, perhaps to someone. His curiosity gets the better of him, and he backpedals to linger behind your closed door. He waits to see if he’ll hear anything else, and when he does…

“Obi-Wan- oh, yes, please right there..”

Jealousy envelopes his entire being, eating away at his insides. He can’t help it, no matter how many times he’d fought himself over thoughts of you, told himself that you chose his master instead of him, he couldn’t come to accept it. He wanted you, he wanted you so fucking badly. And every time he had to look into your eyes or talk to you was true suffering for him, knowing he can never have you.

Even when envy stung his heart, he didn’t leave. He stayed- god knows why- to listen to your cries of pleasure, to treasure your sounds for a later time for himself. You sounded perfect, even better than he had imagined when he coaxed a weak, lonely pleasure out of himself on lonely nights. Thank god Obi-Wan was mostly silent, just a heavy breather, so Anakin could focus on you.

He could hear when your skin slapped against each other, could hear the wet sounds coming from you, and he soon found himself stiff and incredibly uncomfortable in his pants.

“Fuck…” he whispered.

Anakin’s thoughts run wild, knowing what he was thinking and planning to do was completely wrong and horrible, but the lust permeating his body and brain clouded his rationale as his hand trailed down to cup the tent of his pants.

Suddenly noises of movement come from the room, and his ears perk up to try to picture what was going on behind that door. Soon enough, the slapping noises were back again and louder than before- maybe even faster. This time you were moaning and gasping for breath, Anakin could only imagine what was happening to you. Probably getting your back blown out.

He strokes himself harder at that thought, silently wishing he could see you.

An absolutely devilish idea crosses his mind, but he’s quick to dismiss it.

That’s too far… right?

Look at what you’re doing right now, you pervert.

It’s true, if that’s too far, then what’s this?

The Jedi purses his lips in frustration, arguing with himself in his head with your erotic moans as background music.

Fuck it, if he can’t ever have you, at least he should be able to see you, just once.

Pausing all movement, he connects with the force, and as gently and as quietly as humanly possible, he uses it to nudge the door ajar just enough for him to peak. When he peers through..

Holy fuck. Holy fucking shit.

Obi-Wan’s got you on all fours, pounding into you with his hands gripping tight onto your hips, guiding you to bounce on his cock over and over again. Your back is arched perfectly, your face in complete bliss as it’s angled towards the ceiling.

Anakin’s own dick pulses with a new wave of need, so he quickly shoves his hand down his trousers and fists himself, sucking back any noise that might escape his throat. He would do anything in the galaxy to be the one right there thrusting wildly into you, he’d make you feel so good. Better than Obi-Wan. He’d be making you scream.

Obi-Wan leans over and grips the back of your neck to push your face into the covers, causing you to whimper. Now he’s got a hold your neck and your hip, and as he lifts a leg up to create a better angle, he groans and falls back into your previous pace. You squeal at the change, clearly very much enjoying everything your lover was doing.

How does Obi-Wan even know what to do, for kriff’s sake? The spark of jealousy reignites once again, but Anakin pushes it back so he can chase his release.

It only took a few more minutes before you started crying out again.

“Obi- Obi I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-“

The sight of you releasing was one he desperately soaked in, quickly watching every inch of your body as it spasmed and shook from the strength of your orgasm.

Anakin was pumping himself harder and faster, unbothered if he was leaking all over his himself, feeling that knot grow taut within him until he witnessed Obi-Wan push himself as deep as he could go within you, coaxing one last cry out of you and inevitably pushing Anakin over the edge as well. Ropes of cum coated the inside of his pants, as that euphoric sensation washed over him. He relished in it, picturing that he had just came inside you instead, but as soon as the feeling came it was gone, and the horrid reality of what he had done set in.

Fuck.

Indulgence (Sir Nighteye X Reader)

Summary: “Masquerade balls were something you’d only ever heard about in movies. You couldn’t deny the prospect was intriguing; donning your most elegant attire, confidence boosted by your anonymity and the intoxication brought on by such a magical atmosphere. You and your fellow partygoers were almost doomed to desire, inhibitions washed away long before the wine and spirits start to flow. 

The mystery, majesty, and potential for mischief were far too enticing to resist. 

So, when you received an invitation to Midnight’s Masquerade, you didn’t think twice about accepting…”

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mirai Sasaki (Sir Nighteye) X fem!reader Word Count: ~7.7K Warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content, public sex, BDSM themes, voyeurism, exhibitionism, sounding (not super explicit), overstimulation, light bondage, fingering, cunnilingus, surprisingly no ‘P’ in ‘V’ intercourse. 

A/N: My piece for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​‘s Citrus Dome collaboration, so be sure to check out the other pieces! The warnings make this sound kind of wild, and while it’s definitely filthy, it’s not as bad as it looks. If you want to get in the proper mood, you should listen to A Perfect Circle while reading this because it was my soundtrack while writing. Hope y’all enjoy!

~

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not now kitten, daddy has to write strange self indulgent fan fiction.

Dabi and Tomura (poly or separately) are all about that forced intimacy, and will get it from their Darling no matter what. You're not sleeping in the bed if you're gonna flinch and shrink away when he moves to get close to you. You don't want to shower with him? Oh, guess you aren't showering at all until you stop being stubborn. Turning your head when he goes to move/lick a bit of stray food off of your lips? No meals for the next day, and the day after THAT you're getting tied up so you have to let him give you food. Tomura and Dabi both think of themselves as monsters, and if they have to let that side of them show a bit more to force their darling into being affectionate or to just stop fighting them, they will. They're more stubborn than you, they're stronger than you, and they're more terrifying than you can ever hope to be. Now stop fucking squirming and hug me back like you mean it, goddammit.