Can You Do A Smut Karl Fic With Female Reader As Ethan Focused On The Part That Karl Proposes To Ethan

Three's A Crowd

Summary: Hawks wants to have a threesome and you can't say no.

♡ A very late fic for a collab that my discord group hosted ♡

Warnings: Heavy noncon, threesomes, bondage, breeding kink?, forced pregnancy, size differences, daddy kink, toxic relationship, yandere themes, scumbag!Hawks, reader is fem in this

You sit at the kitchen table quietly while Hawks rambles about his day of shitty villains and annoying bosses. A little bit of time has passed since he ripped you away from your old life and you have already unwillingly settled down in this new one.

“(Y/n)?” You snap out of your trance and see Hawks staring at you intently much to your discomfort.

You blink a few times, “yeah?”

“I was wanting to ask you something,” he says and you feel your appetite completely dissipate.

Oh god, what now? He never says anything good when he acts like this....

“I was thinkin,” he taps his fingers on the wooden table, “what would you think about me bringing another man home?”

You stare with mouth agape as your mind does a double take. You almost think you misheard him, there's no way he actually means what you think he means, right?

He quickly tries explaining himself, “okay that didn't sound right. I meant like, what if I brought a guy home for us to have some fun with? Like a threesome? God, I’m doin' such a bad job trying to ask this, aren’t I?”

He gives you a lopsided grin and you just stare blankly back, still unable to form words. You never thought in a million years he would bring someone into the relationship, much less another man, even if it is for just one night. You didn't even know he was into guys, but then again looking back at old conversations, maybe it's not that surprising.

“So does that sound nice?” Hawks asks and you finally speak.

“I thought I was yours?" You quietly respond and he seems taken back. As if he hasn’t spent many nights growling possessive words into your ear as he makes you cum over and over.

“Well, you are mine," he says with a chuckle, “but I was thinkin' it would be fun to bring another member to the party. So?”

You roughly swallow. He isn’t really asking, he never does, he suggests things and then pesters you until you say yes. He only “asks” to give himself the illusion that you’re a willing precipitant in this whole thing he calls a relationship.

“Who would you even get? I mean, wouldn’t most people be concerned if they saw me? You know....” You start to drift off, debating if finishing your sentence is really worth it.

"Why would they be concerned?" He quirks an eyebrow, the way he plays dumb making you question if he is being genuine.

"Y-You know, with me being kidnapped?" You squeak out the last part and Hawks instantly shifts his tone, eyes narrowing and feathers bristling. He hates it when you say that he kidnapped you, thinking the word makes him sound like a villain, which you suppose he is, but he would rather swallow nails than admit that.

“Well I didn’t kidnap you, now did I, babe." He punctuates the last word in a way that has you cringing into your seat. “So no need to worry about that. Besides, I found someone ahead of time who has agreed and knows the rules that I’d have.”

“You...got someone already?"

“Yeah! I figured that I should have someone ready since it’s kind of obvious you would say yes.” He says in a condescending tone and you start to interrupt.

"But I didn’t-”

He quickly shoves himself in, “I know you’re shy sweetheart, but I also know you like to have fun. So why not have double the fun, huh?”

He gives you a flirty look which only brings the opposite affect he most likely hoped for. As always, there isn’t a choice here, so you just give a short answer of agreement and go into a silence. Hawks beams with excitement, the rigidness from your earlier words gone.

After a few minutes, your curiosity makes you speak up, “is he attractive?”

“Umm,” Hawks trails off in thought, scrunching up his face before slowly nodding, “yeah....I think he is.”

“You don’t sound to certain about that,” you say dryly and he only laughs.

“Look, he’s a very rugged looking man. He has gone through some shit with the scars and all that, but that’s what makes him hot!” As Hawks gives another detail, you run through all the people he could be talking about, but come up blank.

“A rugged man, huh?” You mummer more to yourself. You should have figured that was his type with the actors and heroes he’s complimented. “What about personality? Like is he very charismatic? More to himself? Is he even a hero?”

“Uh he’s definitely more to himself, like I said, I doubt he’s even going to say yes. But at the same time, I just get a gut feeling he is secretly a kinky guy.” Hawks states before taking a few gulps from his drink. 

You frown at the way he dodged the last question so you try again, “is he a hero?”

Hawks shrugs before giving you a wink, “can’t give too much away, that’ll ruin the surprise.”

A thick silence falls over you both, but as much as you feel an urge to throw up, you stay silent. He never listens to you anyways...

♡♡♡

Hawks clearly was ecstatic about you ultimately saying yes, most likely because he expected you to be more stubborn about it than you were. So ecstatic in fact, he completely bypassed you meeting the other man and decided in two nights from that dinner was gonna be the night to have the threesome.

“Is it too tight?” Hawks asks, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. You slightly tug at the soft material wrapped snug around your wrist, shaking your head no. “Good.”

“Hawks?”

“Yeah baby?”

You squirm a little more, “do I have to have a blindfold on?”

You hear him let out a hum while he pets your head, “do you want it on?”

You take a moment to decide on if it really matters, but then again he’s in a good mood so it should be fine, so you shake your head no again. He’s quiet for a moment before you hear that familiar smug chuckle.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Besides! This is supposed to be a surprise, remember?”

You don’t remember him saying anything about being blindfolded for the guest, only that he got too excited to care about letting you meet them, but you keep that to yourself and mutter out an ‘okay’.

“Now, I don’t know how rough he will be, but I'm assuming he isn’t one for being soft. So if it becomes too much at any point, I’ll make sure to get him away, okay?” The words make you sweat and your stomach twist despite him assuring you that nothing will go too far.

You know how rough Keigo can get, but you also know how possessive he is, and how much he hates seeing you disrespected by other people, especially men.

“I love you,” he says against your lips.

“I-I love you too.”

“I’m gonna go get something, okay?” He suddenly tells you and you hear him start to walk away.

“Oh okay,” you nervously reply and swallow hard when you hear the door shut.

The silence is overbearing along with the loneliness, it making butterflies swarm in your gut as you begin to squirm. Thousands of thoughts seem to go through your mind, many grueling over the amount of things that could go wrong even with all the reassurance Hawks has given you.

The click of a door closing alerts you and you become still, a part of you thinking you imagined it from how quiet it was. You pull against your restraints, craning your head up and tuning in to the noise around you, only to be met with emptiness.

"H-Hawks?" You softly call out, heart thrumming as doubt creeps into your mind. Nothing seems to be happening even though you swear you heard someone come in.

A calloused hand runs along your thigh making you let out a small yelp, “Hawks? Is that you?”

“It’s alright, relax for me baby.” You hear the hero coo at you, easing the tension some.

“Hawks, I don’t know if I wanna do this.”

Silence. It makes you squirm as eyes seem to be boring into you, drinking up your exposed body and making your anxiety worse.

You hate this, you regret ever letting him bully you into this.

Suddenly you feel his hand slowly run up your body, fingertips tracing your skin like he’s memorizing you. You can't help to note that his hands feel a little rougher than usual, but it's most likely just your brain being all jumpy.

You whimper out his name in a desperate manner when his hand clasps around your throat, it then moving to caress your face. His thumb traces your bottom lip for a moment before he pulls away. And soon you feel the bed dip, a heavy weight now rested between your legs.

“Where's the other person? Did he not show?" The words slip out shaky, clearly hoping that they chickened out.

"Oh don't worry baby bird, he's here," Hawks says before you feel a weight now resting beside you. You gasp as you realize the man swinging your legs over his shoulders isn’t who you think it is.

Hands are roaming your body, groping whatever they can while sloppy kisses are peppered on your breast and inner thighs, as if they’re worshipping every detail of your flesh.

A breathless whine escapes from your throat when the strangers tongue drags along your slit, his face rough against your plush thighs. You wonder for a split second if he has some kind of scars or stubble. Of course, that train of thought is quickly forgotten as the stranger starts to eat you up vigorously. Lapping up your juices and burying his face into your sex like it's his last meal on earth.

Meanwhile Hawks peppers sweet kisses along your jaw, hands trailing down to pinch your nipples while soft praises fall from his lips.

“You look so perfect like this,” he coos into your ear, “makes me a lil jealous that I'm not the one getting a good meal.”

"Ah~ Hawks,” you try to form words, but they all seem to jumble together. While Hawks has always been good at giving head, it's never been like now.

The stranger feels more in charge, moving his tongue with precision yet rough and demanding, instead of being messy and impatient like Hawks. You have no idea just how many times he’s done this, but he is clearly more experienced.

“Is she always this loud?” You hear a gruff voice say, two thick fingers prodding your entrance before pushing inside, stretching you out in the most delicious way. “Or does she just like the thought of being used by another man? One that she doesn't even know.”

“Oh I'm not sure, which is it, baby?” Keigo mockingly asks, both of their smugness making you start to squirm in embarrassment.

“I’m not-" It's all so humiliating and you want to deny it all, but your mind can barely focus on anything. Everything is crashing down on you, hands roaming your body and lips smooshed against your own and you feel yourself being suffocated by them.  

Thick fingers skillfully play your body with ease, hitting a spot inside you that makes you see stars as he latches his lips around your puffy clit to harshly suck. It makes you cry out, but you're not sure what name to say, so you decide to choose the one you know.

However, the stranger doesn’t seem to like that and you feel him pull away, a second of relief turning into a sharp squeal as he brings his hand down on your pussy. It makes a spike of hot pleasure shoot through you and you hear Hawks sharply inhale.

“I don’t want to hear that name, he’s not the one making you feel this good. Understand?” He sternly tells you and you shake your head yes.

You jerk as he slaps your pussy again, a tearful whine escaping you as your chest heavily pants and your body shakes.

“Use your words, princess. And make sure to call my name like a good girl or else I’m gonna have to get rough.”

You thickly swallow, he's already getting mean so you'd hate to see what he thinks rough is. But you're mind starts to scramble to find what he could be talking about, he hasn't given an name or really any hint, so you just go with a title Hawks adores.

“Y-Yes daddy."

You hear him let out an hum, "good girl."

His mouth goes back to slurping up your juices, fingers digging into your plush thighs to keep you still.

You hate how good he makes you feel, how those simple words have you melting into a puddle, that desire to keep being his good girl. You hate it all yet a part if you doesn't want it to stop.

And surprisingly, the winged hero seems to agree and captures your mouth in a needy kiss, tongues messily clashing together.

“You're so fucking cute, wish I had thought of this sooner.” He says, his voice just as breathless as yours.

You only let out a pathetic mewl, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to your peak, which Hawks seems to pick up on.

“Do you wanna cum, pretty girl?” His voice is soft yet a sense of taunting coats it, but you don’t care and just want to finish.

“Yes please,” you whine out and crane your head making your lips brush against his.

"So polite, I’m guessing you trained her well?” You hear the man between your legs comment and Keigo gives a teasing chuckle.

“Mhm, she was a fast learner though. Weren’t you, princess?”

You shake your head, that familiar icky sensation crawling up your spine. You hate being treated like this, you hate how dehumanizing it is and how there is nothing you can do about it. You already seem to be enjoying yourself, so you denying only has them snickering at your shallow attempt.

"She won't admit it, but she's really just a slut in the end," his words stab through you yet he only keeps going. "You should have seen how excited she was to do this. Such a greedy slut, one man just wasn't enough for her."

"That's not true-Mphm!" Keigo swallows up your words, smooshing his lips against yours while he grips the back of your head tightly.

You moan into the heated kiss as your stuffed with a third finger, squelching noises filling up the room as they're pumped in and out of you. By the time he pulls away to start trailing his mouth down to your chest, your lips are aching from how rough he became.

You feel tears prick at your eyes, everything becoming stuffy and hot, making you become desperate to get this over with. Yet you crave the sweet release that feels like it’s right at your fingertips.

“D-daddy, I'm gonna cum,” you start to babble without thought and he only seems to get hungrier.

"Then cum," he growls, "you have daddy's permission, kitten."

You can't help, but let out a light sob as it all becomes too much. Hot pleasure burning in your tummy as a knot tightens, coiling to the point of it being uncomfortable.

“P-Please, it’s too much, I can’t Daddy-” You only hear his deep groan, his hand leaving your cunt to be replaced with his tongue. And the vibrations rippling through you makes you buck against his face and cry out.

You hear Hawks softly hush you, nuzzling against your cheek lovingly, “it’s okay, you can cum. Be a good girl and cum all over his face.”

You don't know why, but hearing those words tips you over the edge, the coiled knot snapping and your orgasm finally washes over you. Your back arches as a cry is ripped from your throat, eyes rolling back in bliss while you ride out the climax.

Your body trembles while your chest rises up and down in shallow breaths, your mind floating along, a voice cooing over you fading into the background. However, your attention comes back to the present when you feel something hot and heavy on your tummy.

“Give me a second, I wanna get her out of these restraints first,” you hear Hawks say and you instantly sigh in relief when you feel the tight silk leave.

You wince at how much your arms ache and wrists sting, it surly leaving a bruise in the morning. But you don’t have time to dwell on that as your manhandled around like a rag doll. Someone pulling you against them and you assume it's the stranger as your hands run over his hairy chest, Hawks shifting to be behind you.

“Come here pretty baby,” he says and drags you back to him, snatching your wrists when you try taking off the blindfold. “Ah! Not yet, just a lil' longer.”

You start to complain until a sharp gasp is ripped from your throat, something pushing into your tight hole while calloused hands spread your legs more open. Even with being prepped, it’s a lot to take in, but luckily he doesn’t rush and gives small thrusts to help you adjust.

“It’s too much,” You choke out, leaning your head back onto Hawks shoulder, squirming in his grasp as the man just keeps going.

“Look at that, he’s only half way in and you’re already a mess.” Only half way in? “Come on, she won’t break. You can be rougher than that.”

You start to frantically shake your head, pleading for him not to and to slow down, but to your dismay you only hear the other man agree. Pushing into you more and more, the way he feels like he’s splitting you in half makes your mind go blank.

“Theeere we go, all the way in now,” Hawks purrs, peppering your neck in kisses as a way to calm you. His hand comes down to rub your belly, “how does it feel baby?”

You can barely form words, the guy is almost just as thick as Hawks, but with much more length. It fills you up to the very brim, his heavy cock buried deep in your guts making drool leak down your chin.

“H-He’s too big,” you stutter out the words making the man chuckle and Hawks groan.

“Stop fucking teasing and just fuck her already,” he suddenly snaps and the man lightly scoffs, mummering out something you don't pick up before dragging his hips back then snapping them forward.

You let out a squeal as he buries his length deep inside in one thrust. Hawks keeps you secured tight in his grip when you slightly thrash. The man wastes no time getting rough, harsh slaps of skin hitting skin echoing out and his fingers dig into your ass to keep you somewhat still.

“I think it’s time to get that blindfold off.”

Light shines in your eyes and you blink a couple of times, disoriented and surprised to finally see who it is.

Thick, black locks cascade down his shoulders and frames his face, tired eyes with a deep scar under one staring right back at you. You recognize that the man fucking you is none other than the underground hero, Eraserhead.

Your stomach rolls, a fresh batch of hot tears pouring down your face as you suddenly feel the urge to throw up. Everything is spinning and you soon forget everything leading up to this moment, only focused on the morbidity of the situation. The signs were there, Hawks talking to you about the one time he got to team up with him. He would bring it up more often than he would with any other hero and every time he held a sweet and fond tone.

Yet you refuse to believe it, it can’t be, another hero? He’s supposed to be helping you, that's why he's a hero, right? Why isn’t he helping, why-

“You look so cute like this, kitten. All wide eyed while you’re fucked out of your mind.” Eraserhead gives a mocking grin, that same look you see in Hawks eyes in his and it makes you sick.

You want to scream, to claw at him and get them away, but you can only moan as he picks up the pace. Hawks hand slips down to rub at your overstimulated clit making you cry harder, fat tears blurring your vision.

“You’re so loud, baby bird.”

“She's just a dumb crybaby, isn't she?”

"Mhm, she can't help, but go stupid when her cute lil' pussy is stuffed with cock.”

“Adorable."

"The cutest crybaby I've ever seen."

“S-Stop-” You choke out, your voice cracking as you struggle to keep your eyes open. They don’t mean it, they just see you as a pet, a plaything to mock with malicious praise. You should have known the guest wouldn't be a civilian or a sleazy villain, it was just another hero no better than scum. They’re all just like him-

“But princess, you’re enjoying yourself so much,” Hawks purrs into your ear, playing with your tits while the other hero hits deep inside you.

“I wonder if I brought more people over she would like that. Get passed around like a braindead slut.” Eraserhead muses and he clicks his tongue.

“Oh I think she would.” He whispers the words into your ear, his voice low and hoarse. "Wouldn't you?"

Your stomach twists at the thought, "No! P-Please, just stop!"

The fucking bastard actually looks shocked at your outburst, but it goes away quickly and he's pushing your legs up to have your thighs squished against your chest. You cry out at the new angle and he only snaps his hips faster, some how feeling like he's hitting deeper inside you.

“Fuck, your body is saying something else kitten, fucking got me in a vice grip. Keep it up and I'm not gonna last much longer.”

Hawks lets out a small groan at his words, “just finish already, fucking cum inside her.”

Your eyes fly open wide, hands lunging out to push against Eraserheads chest, “no! Please no!”

Hawks took away any forms of birth control when he first kidnapped you and it’s some kind of miracle that he hasn’t gotten you pregnant despite how badly he wants to. But you have no idea if this man is the same way, if you’ll get just as lucky.

“No? But you’re makin’ him feel so good and you know how much I love sloppy seconds.” Hawks says, nipping at your ear and you can practically hear his grin as his voice drops for only you to hear. “I wanna see him stuff you, fucking dump his filthy load into your womb. Maybe he’ll even knock you up.”

You look at the raven haired hero, your face a mess and utter desperation in your voice, “please don’t! He took- I’m not on the pill!”

You see a flash of surprise goes through his eyes that ever so slightly widen, his hips stuttering for a second as he seems to hesitate. It's almost like he’s realizing that he wasn’t told the full truth of what was going to happen tonight. Hope builds up inside you, maybe he just didn’t know, maybe he’ll figure it out and save you!

Your stomach plummets as you see his lips tug into a sadistic grin, eyes boring into yours with deep malice, “then I guess you’ll have to carry my child.” 

Acidic tears flood your face, head falling back against Hawks shoulder in defeat.

“Shit, I'm gonna-” He suddenly chokes out, his eyebrows pinched as he fucks you harder, his grip on your love handles getting borderline painful. You feel a flicker of fight from the cold fear of him getting you pregnant and start to thrash, but Hawks keeps you secured and whispers filthy words as he watches the way Eraserheads cock thrusts in and out out of you.

You cry out as you feel a warmth spread inside you, the heroes groan mixing in with yours as he bottoms out inside you, dumping his load straight into your womb.

You become limp in Keigo's arms, body twitching as broken sobs tear through your chest. You feel utterly filthy, a mess of fluids leaking from your cunt and face burning hot from your tears, it makes you want to boil your skin until it melts off.

Your mind prickles as they try to coo over you again, Hawks petting your head and telling you how good you did as the other bastard rubs your belly. He says something about cleaning you up, but you can barely keep conscious enough to see what he’s doing. You just want to curl up in a ball and crumble away.

“Lay down baby,” Hawks says as he shifts you around, a sigh of relief leaving you at the cool silk sheets hitting your body. 

Exhaustion riddles you and you start to drift into an uneasy sleep, that is until your eyes snap open at the feeling of something pushing into your abused hole. 

“What are you doing,” you weakly protest, squirming away only for him to wrap an arm around you as he hikes up one of your legs.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he easily slips in and wastes no time fucking you gently, “I just need some release, I feel like I'm about to fucking burst. Then you can sleep okay?”

You catch in the corner of your eyes the other hero leaning against the doorway, watching you yet making no effort to do anything, even though you can see the pity on his face.

“I think she needs a break,” he says to your surprise.

Hawks just huffs, "she’s fine. Aren't you baby bird?"

You let out a sniffle and turn your head slightly to lock eyes with Hawks, his pupils slivers and sweat coating his forehead. Yet he looks at you with utter adoration and a sadistic taunt, almost asking you to act up. And to save yourself from the roughness your exhausted body can't handle any more of, you just let out a meek 'yes'.

You never had much of a choice to begin with.

you’re stuck living with your icon for a month have fun

“Relief” (Therapist!Aizawa x reader lemon)

This is my piece for the Two in the Pink, One in the Kink collab hosted by the Sewer Discord server! Giga late but, y’know… life XD Thank you @lookslikeleese​ for giving me the pink notepad idea! And thank you @brttpaige​ for letting me use your work as a cover!

Warnings: Therapist/client relationship, good girl/sir pet names, guided masturbation, dirty talk, exhibitionism kind of (Aizawa watches reader at their behest), reader aggressively hits on Aizawa, mentions of sexual dysfunction, weirdly specific descriptions of therapy, violating the NASW code of ethics (Listen don’t fuck your therapistalsdkjf), reader is insinuated to be experienced.

If you enjoy this piece, please consider joining me on Patreon for bonus content!

When your psychiatrist suggested it, you were, naturally, a bit hesitant.  The phrase alone could put your nerves on end, so the idea of actually needing it spiked your anxiety to near-astronomical levels.

Weren’t people only referred to specialists in extreme situations?  While your sanity might have been slowly slipping in the absence of satisfying orgasms, it’s not like your life was in danger.

… Right?

In a frantic call to your physician, you were gently reassured that ‘death by female blue-balls’ was not a real thing. Though, she did recommend you see someone about your orgasm troubles, adding that if your quality of life was impacted, it was worth addressing. 

Despite your reluctance, you had to agree. The relentless ache between your legs had become rather burdensome. So much so, in fact, that it was hindering your day-to-day activities. After all, how could you focus on something like washing the dishes when a simple shift in posture had you biting back a moan?

The therapist she recommended to you was male—which she subtly tacked on after giving him a glowing review. And while she assured you Dr. Shouta Aizawa was very trustworthy, and had an excellent track record when it came to solving problems like yours, you remained unconvinced. So, you turned to Google in an attempt to dig up a little dirt. 

You were absolutely astonished by what you discovered.

No matter how diligently you searched, you couldn’t find a single hair out of place. This man had an impeccable reputation. Nothing but 5-star ratings followed him to every site where clients could review their doctors, each one accompanied by raving—albeit, occasionally cryptic—testimonials. 

“Just GO. TRUST ME!” Was the most liked review on one site, followed by: “I always leave his office with a smile on my face ;),” on another. They all had one thing in common: complete and total satisfaction.

Keep reading

“that character is problematic” i am sick and twisted. next

What is Aizawa taking to his grave? Thank you!

Ah yes, the character I originally made the TTTG post for in hopes of luring in one of you unsuspecting Aizawa fucking FOOLS

He’s got a real nasty daddy kink and a penchant for taking ex-students out for drinks 🤫

It’s always surprising what a difference just a few years can make. Even more surprising is how little he cares about the student-teacher relationship that existed prior to meeting again as adults. He’s always had a soft spot for the quiet ones, the ones desperate for praise and in obvious need of a father figure despite how hard they try to hide it. 

The transition from reminiscing over drinks to getting you back to his apartment takes time. He takes things slow, throws out feelers to see how you react and maintains control over the conversation. He’ll order your drinks for you and take your glass from your hand when he thinks you’ve had enough. He makes you feel like a student again, only ever responding professionally and brushing off jokes at his expense in favor of telling his own. Teasing you with stories about how clingy you used to be in hopes of getting you to own up to a crush that may or may not be resurfacing with every reassuring pat to your fidgeting hands. 

It’s only when you’re drunk that he starts pressing. You look tired. How’s patrolling been for you? You look like you could use a break. How’s your family? If you ever need someone to talk to, he’s here for you. It’s easy to get distracted by well-spoken people. You hardly notice his hand resting on your thigh or how he’s taken up calling you kitten in between calling you sweet pea and baby, but nothing goes unnoticed by him. Your nervous laughter after accidentally calling him Aizawa-sensei and the subsequent blush that dusts your cheeks tells him everything he needs to know.

You leave together. He makes you hold his hand whenever you cross the street. He gets the door for you when you arrive at his apartment, and scolds you for trying to get the next one. He’s not forceful by any means, but by the time you’ve gotten comfortable he’s already thinking about how you’d look crawling into his bed at night just looking to get your pussy played with before you go to sleep. 

He’s only got one thing in mind for you and that’s to see you in your most vulnerable state, crying out for daddy to taste you or love you or fill you with whatever makes that empty feeling go away. He’s so kind too, really knows how to treat his princess without spoiling or smothering her. Aizawa gives you everything you never had and then some and in return you pretend not to notice when he doesn’t correct anybody that tells him he has such a beautiful daughter.

He’s in love with the power imbalance. You’ll always think he’s smarter than you, that you need him more than he needs you, that you deserve to be punished for hours on end when you mouth off to him because you owe it to your daddy to always be his submissive little girl.  

not now, kitten. daddy’s a shell of his former self

Heya! Could you write a little something about f! reader getting a massage from Dutch? It can get nsfw if you feel up to it :D Thanks if you decide to do this 😊🤍

send me a smutty rdr2 request!

a/n: @woman-with-no-name might fuck around and write a sequel to this (i'm already in the middle of writing a sequel to this), so let me know if you want to be tagged in that too <3. also, i am very much aware of the irony of this being a dutch fic and the title being a line from a song named 'no plan'.

rating: teen and up for vague descriptions of being horny and heavy suggestiveness, but nothing explicit.

warnings: sowing needles, dutch being bad at flirting, slight power imbalance, vague descriptions of getting shot.

Thrilled By The Still Of Your Hand – Part 1 (1.7k words)

The needle moves as if it has a mind of its own. In fact, it kind of does.

You've been mending clothes for hours now, hands working on their own volition, confident in their movements after years of doing the exact same menial task, as you stare at the shirt you're repairing as if transfixed.

In truth, your mind is blank, exhaustion permeating every part of your being, muscles sore and tender from the heavy workload you've taken onto your shoulders.

It's all thanks to Williamson. Because of course it is.

The asshole had fucked up so bad that you had to move camps once again, leaving behind a sizeable amount of potential stolen goods and money, and thrusting more work onto the shoulders of everyone in the gang; Especially you and the other women.

What you wouldn't give for just a few minutes of peace and quiet and stillness.

A voice, deep and rough, halts your fingers. It lashes at you like a whip, in spite of the pleasant tone, the peace and quiet disturbed – a rock thrown into still water.

"Ah, hello, miss."

Your start, feel the pinprick of your needle before you see it, thin metal sliding through the flesh of your forefinger. It hasn't just breached your skin though; It's sunk into your finger so almost a fifth of the needle is embedded in you, and there's a slow trickle of blood emitting from the prick when you pull it out, all gentle and careful. The quiet rush of scarlet glides over your skin and you watch in tired defeat as it drips onto the white fabric you've been working on for the better part of half an hour.

Great. More work.

"Mr. Van der Linde," you reply, polite but short-handed, too fatigued to make real conversation, and cast him a sidelong glance.

He's looking as impeccable as ever, well put-together and handsome, his white sleeves rolled up above his elbows, revealing long expanses of sun-kissed skin and the dark hair strewn across his forearms. You wonder, as impulsive and brief as the thought is, what he would look like all disheveled and raw – what he would look like if he worked even half as much as you or miss Grimshaw or even Abigail, heavily pregnant as she is.

He's got a cigar curled between his fingers, a faint shroud of smoke floating in the air, curling around his head and throat with the familiarity of the gentle caress of a lover.

You press your bleeding finger past your lips and place it on your tongue. Its warmth and wetness soothe the sting, the metallic tang of blood spreading in your mouth.

"It's Dutch," he says, but it's strained, twisted – a mockery of the gentle cheeriness in his voice just moments before, and you turn yourself to face him better, to get a proper look at him, only to falter and freeze, caught in the stare he gives you. His eyes are dark, jaw set tight, and you can do nothing to stop the quiet shiver flowing forth within you. "How are you doing on a fine day like this?"

You slide your finger out of your mouth. There's spit sticking to it, your stained skin glistening in the sun, and you wipe it off in your already grimy skirt.

You think you see Dutch following the motion, the dark irises of his eyes shifting around until they eventually land on your face, but you're not sure.

Probably just the fatigue getting to you.

However, you are certain that his grip on his cigar has tightened, a small dent in the tobacco visible even from where you're sitting.

"I'm fine, sir."

Dutch looks as if your voice has snapped him out of thought and he clears his throat, takes a drag.

"I've seen you working, much more than usual. You must be terribly sore."

"Oh, I guess I am. It's been a busy few days. You know how miss Grimshaw gets."

Dutch chuckles, a low, rumbling thing that sends tingles down your spine. "I sure do."

He watches you for a moment, gaze searching in a way you're unused to, feel a scarlet flush rising in your cheeks. You avert your eyes, and focus on the needle and thread going in and out of the fabric instead.

Then, there are hands on your upper arms. Though you thought it impossible, you grow tenser, shoulders rising, breath catching in your throat. That is, until those hands – those big, warm hands – start making a path up and down your upper arms, soothing in a way that has the tension crawling beneath your skin dissolving like sugar on a wet tongue.

When they come to rest where your shoulders meet your neck, fingers dig into tender muscles.

A moan brushes past your lips, faint and pitiful, but inevitable. You're aching, beneath it all, stressed and on edge after working yourself to the bone. Yes, it's somewhat miss Grimshaw's fault, but you wanted to help out as much as you could on your own accord too. She pushes you, but you're the one taking the leaps, damn near wrestling any and all heavy workloads out of Abigail's hands, even if she is only five months along.

It's like heaven, the way his hands move across the expanse of your back and work at the strain and stress contorting every part of your being, something strange yet tempting curling in your stomach when he delicately pulls at your sleeves, exposing the naked skin of your shoulders to the tepid weather.

"So tense."

Your mind, in that exact moment, catches up to what's going on, Dutch's voice much closer to your ear than before. Close enough to feel faint puffs of breath brush against the shell of your ear. He's moved behind you, rendering you unable to see him, your only point of contact being his strong hands on your shoulders. Your back. Your collarbones.

He's so soft-spoken, every word spoken with gentle charisma and sympathy, tongue curling around syllables in the most delectable way. And yet, he's so close that you can feel the vibrations in his chest when he speaks, giving his voice an air of menace – a predator soothing an unsuspecting prey.

"It has not escaped me, miss, that you've been working extra hard these past couple of days. Trying to make up for Mr. Williamson's blunder?"

Yes. That's exactly what you've been doing. Miss Grimshaw too. As much of a pain in the ass she is from time to time, you have to admit that she's only trying to do right by the gang, and you do your best to follow in her footsteps.

And you attempt to express this, say, "It's the least I can do,"

His laugh is a rumble. "Now you're just selling yourself short, my dear."

He tears another groan from you, thumbs digging into a particularly sore bundle of nerves in your shoulders. His fingers, deft as they are, grab onto and exterminate any point of stress or tenderness they can find, working over naked, pliable flesh, and you just sit there and take it, caught up in the wonderful relief of it all, eyelids fluttering close. Exhaustion takes over.

"I, too, have found myself in need of relief from all this stress, you know."

And you're wide awake.

You open your mouth to reply, to protest – assert that you never meant to imply otherwise and that you're grateful for everything he's done and does for the gang; For you. However, as your lips part, the words get stuck on your tongue, breath hitching at the exact same time your stomach swoops.

Dutch rests a hand on your throat.

It's a heavy thing, his rings cold against your flushed skin, fingers curled just enough to apply a gentle, yet unyielding pressure against your larynx, his skin coarse against yours. Your heart picks up speed, fluttering in your chest with the speed of hummingbird wings, and you know he can feel it because his thumb rests on your pulse point, pressing down slightly

"You know, there are other more pleasurable ways of helping you relax. Really relax. Take your mind off of things."

You were shot once. In the gut. You remember so vividly the suddenness of the wound, the swell of equal parts warmth and mind-numbing pain in your abdomen. It rendered you lost and helpless – as if you were drowning – in the middle of a shoot-out, vision blurry, like you were watching everything through a window while it's raining. The only thing you could focus on through it all was the warm hands on you – the dash of bright scarlet by your side.

It feels like déjà vu.

Except now, along with the warmth in your gut and feeling of helplessness seeping into your skin, bone-deep, there's a throbbing. Lower than your gut. Between your legs. And coursing through your veins is something gushing and fiery and impossible to rule.

He moves further up, cups your jaw, fingers digging into bone. There is pain there, but it pulses along with pleasure. He could crack your jaw if he wanted to.

A part of you – a foreign part you did not know existed – would let him.

The tip of his thumb is on your lower lip, pulling down, barely dipping in. A brush of his fingertip over the dryness there has you releasing a shaky exhale. His touches are delicate but purposeful, akin to how an artist runs a paintbrush across his canvas. You cling to it, blooming beneath his caresses. They warm you like bright rays of sun from the inside out, flames licking beneath your skin in a way you've never experienced before.

"My tent is always open, dear." Breathless. Helpless. What can you do? "Come to me if you need anything. Anything at all."

He pats you on the cheek – his fingers like claws – and walks off as if nothing happened. As if he hasn't left you a blushing mess, heat curling and burning in the pit of your stomach, thighs rubbing together in a vain attempt to ease the pressure that's gathered at the crux of them, sensitive skin flush with goosebumps.

The promise in his voice, carefully wrapped in pretty words and resolute touches, is delectable and lascivious and terrifying all at the same time.

You carry on with your work. It's all you can do. Except, now, your mind is everything but blank.

i think the hottest look you can give someone after they commit acts of unspeakable violence is approval. like don't get me wrong if there's lust there too that's great, but staring at someone with gore dripping down their chin and coating their hands to the wrists with undisguised appraisal and admiration. maybe giving them a little nod as if to say 'well done'. THAT'S what says "yeah we're gonna fuck nasty later".

Scrapyard

Since there seemed to be a severe lack of people writing for this dude, I took it upon myself to write at least a little something. Sorry for the glitchy gif its the only one of him Tumblr provided lmao

WARNINGS: yandere Karl Heisenberg, mentioned body mutilation, mentions of extreme violence and gore, cursing, no actual nsfw but allusions to nsfw, injured and traumatized reader, afab! reader

“Can’t believe the bitch’s cow has strayed so far from the meadow.” The low and grumbly voice of one of the lords interrupted your focus on keeping quiet. You covered your mouth and hid even further back into the small space beneath the desk, even though you’d definitely just been adressed directly. “What? You didn’t like the taste of grass anymore?”

The desk that was covering you flew up into the air, making you cover your head in an attempt to defend yourself. You felt someone kneel in front of you, and with shaky breath you eventually opened your eyes.

Heisenberg was looking down at you with a wide and toothy grin. Both his hat and glasses obscured your view of his eyes, but you didn’t need to see them in order to feel the cruel gaze he pressed on your skin. In his left hand, he was holding the handle of his hammer, and for a moment, you imagined the way he would slam it down on your head, splattering your contents across the dirty factory floor.

“Don’t whimper like that.” He warned as he lifted himself up, kicking you so you’d stand up too. “I’m not going to kill you if you listen to me.”

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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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