Lmao This Is Absolutely How It Happens When He Shows Up In My Fics. 100% He's There To Bring Forth A

Writing Tips

Punctuating Dialogue

✧

➸ “This is a sentence.”

➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.

➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”

➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”

➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”

➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”

➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.

“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.

“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”

➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”

➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”

However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!

➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.

If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)

➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“

“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.

➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.

➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”

➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.

“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”

➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.

“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”

hot for teacher

chapter two previous

pairing: shouta aizawa x f!reader

synopsis: You’re not expecting your day to fall to pieces at 8:21 a.m., but life hasn’t really been going your way lately. A string of lackluster dates, followed by two dead vibrators (with missing cords!), and the only outlet left for your mounting sexual frustration—the smut blog you diligently update—has been discovered by the one person you never wanted to find it: fellow teacher Shouta Aizawa. Who might just be the inspiration behind most of the fantasies you post about.

chapter cws: phone sex -> video call sex, soft dom aizawa being soft as hell, reader being vulnerable on main and hating it, gratuitous use of pet names, dirty talk, praise kink on crack, D/s vibes but never explicitly said, he talks you through it, reader referred to as girl once

word count: 2.2k

aizawa: You’re a good writer.

aizawa: This is Shouta, by the way. Shouta Aizawa, I mean. I suppose I should have started with that.

The compliment cracks your face into a wide, goofy grin that the rest of his texts only magnifies. He's a little clumsy with this form of media, and the thought softens the edge of anxiety.

You still can't wrap your head around the fact that Shouta fucking Aizawa not only found your blog, but was actually maybe into it?

You’ve mostly known him on the periphery, a part of the school’s landscape but never someone you felt comfortable becoming casual friends with. A crush of your magnitude already made talking to him difficult enough.

Which is probably best to not remind yourself of that fact before doing whatever the fuck it is you're doing with Aizawa.

The memory of fingers rubbing circles into your palm pops into your head. His touch had instantly calmed the riot of thoughts in your head.

You stare down at your phone. Thank you is not enough to say, and yet you have no idea what else to add. You shake your head. You’re a grown adult, for fuck’s sake. Surely you can respond to a text message.

aizawa: Can I call you?

You throw your phone across your bed. One of your cats, Bao Bao, raises his head to glare at you.

"Sorry, baby." You offer conciliatory scritches. He consents while your phone buzzes from the corner of the bed.

You pick it up with far more trepidation than necessary.

"Hi." You voices sounds wild to you, all high pitched and breathy with your heart thundering so hard in your ears you barely hear him say hello back. "How are you?"

You punch a fist into the bed sheets. How are you? Fucking seriously?

"Good. Are you nervous?"

You can't help but sigh. Clocked it in one. "Unbelievably."

A pause.

"Because it's me?"

"No, it's not that." You bite your lip. "I've just..."

It’s not like you’re inexperienced. You’ve fucked plenty of guys, but never really quite enjoyed having sex with any of them, which led to you churning out fantasies online.

"I've never really done any of the things I actually like with the people I've slept with. I guess I'm worried I'll be...bad, or something."

"Do you often think about your partner's experience over your own?"

This conversation is sounding more like a clinical psychologist appointment then a get-to-know-your-fuck-buddy chat.

A horrible thought occurs to you.

What if you're some kind of experiment to him? A curiosity? Rumi might know him from his college days and vouch for him, but you don't know shit about the guy.

"You know I can hear your brain whirring through the phone?"

"Fuck." You exhale out a laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm just finally realizing that I don't actually know what your intentions are. And men tend to be..."

"Manipulative pieces of shit?" he offers.

"Yeah. Something like that."

"I'm sorry. My 20 questions routine probably isn't helping."

You smile softly. "That and my anxiety. Always pushing forward the worst possible thought with little to no evidence. You're right, though. I'm usually in my head when I'm with someone. Can never get out of it long enough to actually enjoy myself."

He hums, considering. "What would help you not think so much?"

"Talking usually helps. I have a thing for nice voices."

"Do you like mine?" You swear you hear a touch of apprehension in his tone.

"Yeah," you say. "It's deep and kind of... I don't know, rumbley?"

"Rumbley," he repeats, chuckling. "I've never heard that before."

"It's a good thing, I swear."

"As long as you like it."

You have to strongly fight the desire to kick your feet up and down.

Keep it together.

Aizawa starts to speak again. "I know this is just words right now, but I want you to feel comfortable enough with me so you can tell me what you like and don't like."

Your stomach swoops at the calm intent.

"Right. I - " You swallow. "I want that, too."

"Good." The single word dries your mouth up. “Do you like to be called anything specific?"

An image of Aizawa's hand collaring your throat flashes through your head, his mouth an inch away from your ear as he tells you to behave—

"Isn’t this, I dunno, boring to you?" You toss the question out in a pitiful attempt at deflection. This conversation is already too honest, too real, too close to exposing who you are to another person.

He pauses. “Why would this be boring to me?”

"You know. We’re not doing the typical phone sex stuff. We’re just…talking."

"And you don't think that's enough to interest me?"

It never has been before.

You shut out the pitiful answer.

"Sorry. In my head again."

He's quiet for a moment.

"You’re telling me you’re not wet just thinking about the things I want to call you when we’re together?"

Your whole body flashes hot.

"I mean—"

"Tell the truth, sweetheart."

It’s impossible not to be, you realize; just from his voice alone, your panties are already damp and sticky with your arousal.

"Yes," you admit, and you wish you could see the look on his face when he lets out a gentle groan.

"I don’t care what phone sex is supposed to be like, I just want it to be what we like."

Oh god, you weren’t counting on Shouta Aizawa being sweet.

"That was one," you say, cheeks on fire. How is this both the tamest and sexiest conversation you’ve ever had? "I like being called sweetheart. But only, like, if I’ve been good."

Admitting this makes you feel off-kilter. You’ve never had such a frank discussion about what you like in bed, but talking to him feels safe, easy, even if your whole body aches, demanding to be touched.

"Oh?" His voice shifts, a deeper register making that single sound strike deep in your gut. "And what do you like to be called when you’ve been bad?"

You’re pretty positive that if Aizawa called you his little whore you’d detonate on the spot.

"You must have—"

"I know what you’ve written. I want to know what you like."

There's a bite in his tone you recognize, a struggle to keep himself quiet.

"Are you hard?" you blurt out.

His chuckle is strained. "Have been this entire time. And you called our conversation boring."

You grin at the teasing. "Can I see?"

You want to, suddenly, with a desperation that knocks you flat. If he were here, you're pretty sure you'd fucking crawl on your knees to get to him.

"Tell me what you like to be called, and I'll consider it."

You tell him instantly. "Slut, whore, brat. You could probably call me your little bitch and I’d like it."

"Fuck." He sounds wrecked. "Are you touching yourself, sweetheart?"

The pet name washes over you like sunshine.

"Umm. No, actually. I was..."

Waiting for your permission.

You handed him the reins a while ago, you realize, as soon as you obeyed his command to tell the truth.

"What are you wearing?"

Your thoughts stumble.

"The truth, y/n." His voice is so low now it's almost a growl. "I don't give a fuck if you're in a teddy or a trash bag, I just need to know how to get you naked the fastest."

"A t-shirt and panties," you breathe out. Arousal makes your skin tingle and pulse, every intonation of his voice drawing you closer to the edge. Rubbing your thighs together does nothing to ease the ache.

"Shit. You probably look so fucking cute in your bed right now." You hear him grunt and then a drawer shut. Thinking about Aizawa slicking up his hands and fucking his fist drives another thrum of desire through you. "Spread your legs apart, baby, pretend I'm right in front of you. Can you do that?"

You can barely breathe you're so turned on. "Yes, I can do that."

"Good girl. Now pull your panties to the side. Tell me how wet you are."

Just the caress of your fingers on your hips and inner thigh is enough to make you tremble. A light buzzing fills your ears and the world drops away to just your fingertips gathering the slick at your entrance. You graze your clit and gasp.

"I'm - " You suck in a breath, trying to articulate the words. "I don't think I've ever been this wet. Fuck, you're not even here and I'm practically soaking through my fucking sheets."

A second later, a video notification comes through.

You answer and Aizawa's face appears, his stubble heavier than normal, eyes hungry.

"Knew you'd look fucking beautiful like this," he says before you have time to speak. His eyes rove over your face like he's mapping it.

You wriggle under the compliment, under the implication—had he thought of you, too, before the blog?

"You look so good," is the only thing you can think to say, but Aizawa doesn't seem to mind. His eyes crinkle into a small smile. It's one you almost wish you hadn't seen, its sincerity something so rarely turned toward you it nearly stings.

"Thanks, honey."

Oh, you're never coming back from this.

"You still want to see?"

Really, truly, never coming back after Aizawa pans down his stomach, passing over a dark happy trail that makes your mouth water, and angles his phone over his cock.

Your pussy clenches around nothing.

"ohmygodyou'rebig," comes out in one long rush.

His head falls back against his headboard. He sucks in a breath and you watch, mesmerized, as he starts stroking his shaft slowly. He squeezes and twists the head, a little bit more pre-cum glistening at the tip.

"You've gotta stop lookin' at it like that, sweetheart, or I'll cum like a fucking teenager." Pride washes over you at how destroyed he sounds. It's like he would push himself through the phone if it were possible. "You have something there that will make you cum fast? I'm barely holding on and I want to finish with you."

You fumble for your rose, a thought occurring to you. Normally, you'd be too embarrassed to even suggest it, but you want to with Aizawa.

"Do you want to see me?"

The sound he makes is pornographic. You bite your lip, twisting your inner thighs together.

"Yes. God yes, I want to see you."

"I know you said you wanted me naked earlier, but maybe I can leave my shirt on?"

He nods. "Yeah, baby, let's do that. It's not like I don't want to see all of you. I just—"

"Want to save some things for next time?" you supply.

"Yeah." That soft smile again, the one that feels like your heart's being set on fire. "Exactly."

You do the same general pass over your body that Aizawa did, tracing over your waist and hips, encouraged by the way his eyes drink in every inch of exposed skin. Before you turn the rose on, you sink two fingers into your pussy and slide back out, slick webbing in between your fingers.

"Jesus, you're soaking wet." You can hear the lewd squelch of his hand along his dick and the moan you let out rivals his from earlier. You're shaking you're so turned on. "Turn your rose on, sweetheart, and then come back to me. I want to see you when you fall apart."

The toy suctions against your clit. A whimper falls from your mouth, and then several more, as Aizawa's voice washes over you. You lose track of how many times he tells you how good you're doing for him, how beautiful you look, but it feels like only seconds later that you're cresting toward your peak.

"Shouta," you breathe out, gasping for breath. His eyes are fixed on you, something unnameable in his gaze. "Please please please—"

"Cum, sweetheart," he says, and your eyes fall shut, voice keening into a wail as you thrash on your bed in the fiercest orgasm you've ever had. "That's my girl, showing me how much she wants me there stuff her full. Fucking perfect, so fucking perfect—"

Through the haze of orgasm, you barely register Aizawa's own orgasm, your own name echoing in your head as he finds his release.

"That was..." you trail off. You have no idea how to describe what that was besides life-changing, but that feels a little too intense to say.

"Amazing," he finishes. "Absolutely amazing. You were incredible."

You're pretty sure your body temperature could set your bed on fire you're so pleased by the compliment.

"You know you're cute when you're embarrassed," he teases.

You groan. "Your pillow talk needs work."

You were joking, but his face turns serious. "Got it. You were okay the whole time?"

A smile takes over your face before you can stop it. "Yeah. I was great. The whole time."

"Good."

You both don't say anything, and then you realize you're just staring at him, and the comfort is starting to make your skin itch. You aren't used to this.

"I should go to bed." The time on your bedside nightstand reads 1:03 a.m. "You too if we're going to get all the exams graded before break."

"Right. Good night, sweetheart."

You fall into sleep after the call clicks off, a trace of a smile on your lips.

You don't see the email come through.

SL: TIME SENSITIVE: SPRING BREAK - DEBATE TEAM COMPETITION - CHAPERONES NEEDED

taglist: @phaticserpent, @magidzi, @hotlosergirl17, @luckybibucky, @heyithinkilike, @getoisinnocent, @personally4runa, @kennys-partner, @geektastic84, @wave2mia, @bakery-angel, @constanttea, @aryuunachigiri, @sskorvid, @therefore-evermore, @one-scarred-mofo, @food4dead, @alphabetsoupyum, @cielito--lindo, @rentheannihilator, @juiceeypeach, @imastorytelleritsondvd, @ivydoesit23, @anotherfuckedupdayinthelifeofme, @deputy-azor, @ibby-miyoshi-nerd, @h3rmit-purrrrple420, @lousypotatoes, @hisbitch101, @greedygobbo

(･ω･)つandy's notes: another outrageously self-indulgent chapter that i had SO MUCH fun writing and I really hope you all enjoy it, too!! the posting schedule is Mon/Fri, hope u follow along! <3

ALSO ALERT ALERT AIZAWA POV NEXT WEEK

Papi💕 wip

Might delete later to post full version

It looks different for everyone!

Reblog if you understand that disability is not a monolith and two people with the same disability do not have identical experiences ✨

♡ Kissed By The Baddest Villain ♡

Link To Masterlist

WC: ~3,000

CW: dirty talk, fingering, teasing, fem dom, explicit sexual content. Proof read but no beta.

Chapter 6: I Want You To Want Me

The days that follow are filled with random acts of villainy. You're aware that you were technically paid upfront, but man, this is really cutting into your teasing time. 

Ah. 

Teasing time. 

The random minutes of the day, or hours if you're so lucky, where you really crack down on how much you can provoke the guys before they finally do something about it. You like to be as subtle as you possibly can. Go without a bra in a white t-shirt and see who speaks up. "Forget" your clothes and walk out from your shower with just a towel on. Then there's always the classic route of making direct eye contact while you eat anything that could even resemble a phallic shape. You never do it at the same time or on the same days. It has to be spread out so that nobody can quite pin down when it's going to happen. After all, one of the best parts is the unexpected nature of teasing time.

Today specifically seems like a good day to go ahead and cultivate your newfound skill. You've been in your room most of the day so far, mostly talking to your parents on the phone, assuring them that you're doing alright. Dad's being pretty uptight. The great Knight Terror, a man who can (and does) create nightmarish hallucinations and inflict them upon others, is worried that you're not getting enough sleep. There are just too many layers of irony to peel back. 

This helps you decide to venture out into the rest of the hideout for some much needed stress relief, in search of something--or someone--to take your mind off of everything else. But no such luck. You haven't been particularly active today, so the others have all secluded themselves for a lazy day of their own. You can hear music thrumming down the hall from Toga's room, broken up by chatter and the clicking of keyboards from Tomura's, he and Shuuichi complaining loudly about their hits not landing. 

Which is fine. 

Totally fine.

You're used to being coddled by your parents, so there's a stab of unhealthy regret cutting into your chest for not rounding everyone up when you had the chance. But it'll be fine. There are other ways to relieve stress that don't require tapdancing on the last remaining nerves of the League Of Villain cuties.

So you now find yourself troubleshooting your weakest ability: baking. Having never been particularly talented in this area, you decided to use this time to figure out what the hell you're doing wrong when your pastries turn out... the way that they do. Although you're very aware that these cookies will probably end up less chocolate chip and more heinous shit, you gather the ingredients, mix them in a large glass bowl, then sit on the minimal counter space while you wait for the oven to preheat. You kick your feet as they dangle, humming a song to yourself that you've had stuck in your head.

That's around the time when Twice walks in for a glass of water. Twice, who is the only one of them who hasn't been receptive really at all to any of your teasing. If you wear a white t-shirt with no bra, he only looks at your face. If you come out with just a towel on, he's immediately tearing his eyes away and ignoring the situation. If you make eye contact while practically deep throating a whole-ass banana two inches away from his face, he just smiles and grabs his own damn banana. You think you're going to have to be more direct with him or else he's just not going to take the bait, which kind of goes against the grain of what teasing is at its core. It's frustrating, but at the end of the day, you're willing to give up the subtlety in favor of how badly you want him. 

He's wearing a blue t-shirt and baggy gray sweatpants along with his mask tonight. You have yet to see his face, still, even after a couple months now of having been part of the league. It isn't lost on you that this is for good reason, but it does often give you pause. What does he look like under there? 

You know he has a great body, you've seen it clear as day through his skintight costume. Jin is absolutely built, the way his muscles tense when he strikes a pose giving you butterflies in your belly. He's also very sweet. He was the first of the guys to come talk to you on the day you had arrived, and not a minute has gone by that he hasn't shown you kindness. There are so many attractive qualities about him that it hardly matters what his face is like behind the mask, but curiosity is a hell of a drug.

"You're baking cookies at eleven am?" He asks you in a chesty gravel, "There's never a bad time for cookies,"

His voice. Ugh. There's something about it that sets every hair on your body to stand on end. 

"Yeah, I like to practice the things I'm bad at when people are less likely to be around for it," your admittance causes a blush to dust across your cheeks.

He can feel himself getting hot and flustered. You're so fucking cute like this.

Twice chuckles under his breath, "Well don't let me bother you, I'm just here for a glass of water. So outta the way!"

You look him up and down as he runs the tap, admiring his forearms, how they tense when he fists his glass. He allows for the slightest glimpse of the lower half of his face when he pulls his mask up for a drink, small rivets of water spilling at the corners of his mouth to wet his chin. From what you can tell, he's a little scruffy, stubble lining his angular jaw. This is short-lived, though, the mask soon to be returned over his face entirely.

"Hey, Jin?" 

"Mm?"

"I was just wondering.. am I allowed to see what your face looks like?" 

The inquiry takes him by surprise. You can tell that he's struggling somewhat to determine his best course of action. Truth be told, while he would normally be apprehensive to remove the mask so he doesn't spiral, this time, it's mostly because he doesn't want you to be disappointed with what you see. He isn't what he would consider to be conventionally attractive. Definitely not as good looking as you.  

He rubs at the back of his neck in a bashful display that's quite unlike the Twice you've come to know, eyes fixed at the linoleum, and you think for a moment that he's about to refuse your request. Not a word is spoken when he removes his mask, a head of straw-colored hair revealed beneath it. A scar runs lengthwise down the center of his forehead, one which you assume is from his incident, a line that diverges between two hooded, gray eyes.

You giggle nervously, a bad habit that appears to have him feeling self-conscious with the way he rubs at his upper arm, "Sorry, I just--" you catch your lower lip between your teeth, "You're really cute,"

His eyes widen for a brief moment before they settle back into a flattened affect. 

"Don't make fun of me, Yumemi," he tells you with pink cheeks. 

"I'm not. I really like your hair, I didn't think you'd be blonde. And you've got bedroom eyes," 

Bedroom eyes.

Were you coming on to him?

There's no goddamn way. 

Each corner of your mouth nudges into a playful grin, the glint in your gaze prickling his skin with goosebumps, and you lean forward to close the space that rests betwixt you both.

"W-why are you laughing then?" 

"Because I'm nervous over what I'm about to do,"

Anticipation blooms within him.

"What..." he swallows thickly, the realization settling into his bones that, yes, this is actually happening, "What are you about to do?"

With your body buzzing and full of adrenaline, you spread your legs, the skirt you're wearing folding in the open space that separates your knees, and he releases an audible gasp when you do so. 

"Ask you to touch me," you tell him in a voice that's barely above a whisper. 

He stumbles towards you, attempting not to gnash his teeth over this opportunity, fighting each and every urge to nip at the exposed flesh of your thighs. His callouses drag over the contours of your body, hands slow yet hungry, relishing in the way that you shiver at his touch which ghosts along your pretty waist. 

"Like that?" His brows tilt, knitting at the center, a shake in his voice that threatens to break him apart. 

You nod your head as he allows his fingertips to sink into the swell of your hips, and you spread yourself wider, tipping your pelvis, encouraging him to travel further down. He curses quietly to himself, and then rests a palm atop each of your knees, pulse thundering, hormones flitting through his veins. He needs a second to breathe. 

But only a second. 

Jin massages your thighs, greedy hands working up until he reaches the hem of your skirt. He stops to examine your reaction. You're so beautiful that it hurts to look at you. Has his legs about to give out underneath him.

"K-keep going," you beg in a voice that's half a moan. 

You sound so needy for him. 

And the way you're looking at him right now all but confirms that thought. Your eyes are burning with a desire that rivals his own, the lust which you offer him delicious and saccharine, pouring from your lips like honey.

"That's all you wanted?" He taunts, but it's breathless and weak. 

You grab his shoulders to pull him into a kiss, jerking him closer to you, and he grunts against your lips as the tent in his pants is pressed to your leg. 

"Touch me more," your purr is muffled into his mouth. 

He pinches his eyes shut tight, seconds from tearing the clothes from your body and bending you over this counter so he can fuck you properly. However, he's a man who values respect above all else, and you'd asked him to touch you--only to touch you. A searing hand travels to the aching at your center, softly rubbing along your damp panties in languid strokes, laving across your clothed cunt. Your breath hitches at the contact, writhing as though you're trying to tie yourself into a knot. He steadies you with his other hand firm against the small of your back. 

When you part for air, your lips are kiss-stung, eyes heavily lidded, chest heaving. He presses a messy, open-mouthed kiss to your neck as he pulls your panties to the side, circling your clit with his index finger before delving it into your pussy all the way down to the knuckle. Your whine comes out as little more than a breathy squeak when he kneads inside of you, prodding to find the spot that will make you cry. 

"You're so wet," he breathes hazily, as if in disbelief.

You nod your head, "Been wanting you to touch me like this for a while,"

Fuck, that's hot.

"Shoulda said something sooner, princess. I would've satisfied you a long time ago," the confidence in his tone is a hard difference from how blissed-out he sounded not thirty seconds prior. You wonder if sex is something both parts of him can agree on.

The boastful tone soon gives way to whines and whimpers that are near pitiful. He can't remember the last time he did this, and a large part of him hopes he isn't too rusty. But there's another portion that's too caught up in the moment to care about finesse. Your hand tangles into his hair, tugging at it roughly, a not-so-gentle indicator of how good he's making you feel, just the reminder that he needed to focus on your pleasure instead of the chaos in his head. He presses his thumb to your apex, rubbing circles into the little bud that causes you to throb around his finger. 

"There?" His question vibrates against the column of your throat, "You like it right there?"

"Right there. Fuck, feels so good," you mewl, high and soft, words enmeshing with the tepid air. 

With a shaky groan, he raptly watches the wiggle of your hips as he curls his finger, then dips another inside of you, eager to see you unravel, the lewd sounds you're making over his ministrations pushing him to madness. You can feel him pulsing through his pants, even moreso when he looks down to see his digits returning slicker than before, your arousal clinging to him and making a mess on the countertop. 

"Want you to cum for me," he grits, the words skittering out of him like electricity.

The way that you're tightening around him says that you're not too far from this. Fuck, he's so hard. He doesn't think he's ever been this turned on in his entire life. You're so hot like this, your skin all flushed and dewy, eyes pleading with him to give you the ecstacy you so crave. As embarrassing as it is to admit to himself, he's getting close with the way he's grinding against your outer thigh. The friction is just enough to keep him right on that precipice, and the moans he's pulling from you have his cock throbbing mercilessly.

A desperate groan wracks out of him as you dip below his waistband to take the length of him into your hand, shameless and highly strung, eyes widening when you swipe your thumb across his slit. You collect the bead of precum that was dripping from him, then lick it from the pad of your thumb, melting over how his voice breaks as he watches. You wet your palm with your tongue and return it to his twitching cock.

"Fuck fuck fuck," he whimpers, pressing more firmly into your clit, "If you don't stop, I'm gonna cum,"

You lift your shirt to reveal the expanse of your stomach, "Good. Cum on me,"

"Oh my god, keep going. Keep--uhnn--stop! No, don't stop, don't fucking stop, don't listen to that," the words come out between his panting.

He grips the counter with his free hand, knuckles blanching, holding on for dear life as he bucks into the silk of your palm. You glide your hand up and down his shaft, the way his face twists up when you run your fingers across a sensitive spot winding the coil within you so impossibly tight that it's about to snap entirely. You've become so wet that his thumb slips over your clit, slick arousal gushing, the velvet of your walls squeezing him with every word he babbles into your ear.

You want dirty talk?

He'll fucking give it to you.

"Next time I'm licking your pussy. Bet your clit tastes like candy. Goddamn, you're driving me so crazy, I swear," Jin lifts your shirt so he can play with your nipples, tweaking them as he continues, "Been wanting to make this pussy cum since I first laid eyes on you. Shit, you're getting so tight--ah--you are so fucking close. Mmff. That feels good, doesn't it?" he rasps, and that's all it takes to send you pulsing around him, fist tightening in his hair, "Yeah. That's it, cum all over my fingers, princess,"

Your moan breaks off into a cry, sharp and keening, pleasure bursting through you in a burning and intense unfurling that shocks through your limbs. 

"Fuck, Jin! Ahh-aahh, you make me feel so good!" you cry out as he fucks you through your orgasm.

"Oh fuck, that's it, I-I can't. Gonna cum. I'm--ah--gonna cum, gonna cum, gon--ngh, c-cumming," a heady moan juts from his throat as he tumbles headlong into pleasure, his cock pulsing in your hand as you guide him to spill his hot release onto your abdomen. 

He wriggles at the sight, bucking his hips, thrusting to glide through your fingers that work him so sweetly, painting your skin pearly white. Tired and damp with sweat, he drops over you, trembling and muttering little nothings into the warmth of your neck. 

"Would you ever want to have sex with me?"

Jin snaps his head up in attention, nearly manic when he nods his head and cages you in with his strong arms. 

Hook, meet line. 

"Yes--yes, just, gimme like two minutes and I can--"

You slide off of the counter, patting the side of his face on your way down. 

"Then we totally will sometime," you clean him off of your stomach with a napkin as you speak, "But these cookies won't make themselves,"

He blinks several times in succession, then splashes his face with cold water before pulling his mask back on. 

And there it is. 

Sinker. 

He helps you portion dough out onto a baking sheet, watches you dance around the kitchen in your socks as you sing into a spoon, imagines what it feels like to breathe in the salt of your skin as he takes you, as he cradles your face in his hands. 

Yeah.

He should be easier to tease from now on.

I missed sleepover Saturday can we do Sleepover Sunday instead 🥺

Let's do Sleepover Saturday!

So send me asks about:

fuck, marry, kill

ask my top 3 of anything

make me choose between two things

send me celebrities for hot or not

would I ship _______ with _______ ? 

headcanons

who you ship me with

tell me stories about you or your day

ask me for advice

ask me questions about things you want to know

literally whatever you want!

f in the chat if your relationship with your writing style is toxic as hell

He deserves the best treatment all the kisses and cuddles and princess treatment and (head anything he wants fr)

My man deserves the world 😩

Yes ugh!!! He's one of those men that gives me that feeling when I remember he isn't real lmao. Like it's not that I can't have him because he's famous. No. It's because he doesn't even exist 😭

♡ Kissed By The Baddest Villain ♡

Link To Masterlist

WC: ~3,000

CW: dirty talk, cock warming, orgasm control, edging, fem dom, loss of virginity. Proof read but no beta.

Ch 9: Ready Player Two

The night creeps by like the quiet steps of a felid, a soft presence, but one you can feel around you nonetheless. It’s near two in the morning at this point, the hideout still and devoid of any interaction. You’re somewhat used to this, the nightowl which you are—but the flashing of lights that seep from the cracks in a doorway signal that you aren’t the only one who’s awake. And naturally, it would be coming from Shigaraki’s room.

Not that you’re complaining.

It’s just been particularly difficult to feel close to him since you’d accidentally moaned at his pressing you into a wall.

You’re certain that it’s well past time to redeem yourself.

You knock lightly, a scratchy, “What?” soon to follow.

“Mind if I come in?” You ask, opening the door ever-so-slightly ajar.

Tomura’s mouth forms a tight line, his skin prickling. He thinks for a moment on whether or not he should approve your request, carmine eyes shining below a tousled mop of blue bangs. He doesn’t want to deny you. In fact, he craves this opportunity, the chance to show you that he can be desirable. You just make him feel so… weird. Like he ate something too fast, or he’s about to be stabbed. It makes his palms sweaty and causes his brow to crease at the center.

“Okay,” he relents, “But I’m not done with this level,”

You grin playfully, bouncing over to his messy bed, eyes fixed to him as he slumps over in his gaming chair. There’s something about him that’s appealing to you in a way you hadn’t quite expected. He’s adorable. Kind of a loser, but in the best possible way. So far, everyone you’ve been with has had some kind of experience, even if it had been years prior. Hell, the guy you lost your own virginity to had a kid.

But Tomura has no clue what he’s doing.

And that’s a little bit hot.

Truth be told, he really is clueless. He doesn’t know what to do with you. This doe-eyed, proper thing who smiles too much, who speaks like falling rain on a rooftop and smells like something inexplicably tantalizing, as if you’ve been kissed by the sun on a spring day. The lingering shock of you even wanting to talk to him still has him a bit shaken. What interest could you possibly have in him? He definitely doesn’t have anything for you right now. Riven’s mechanics have proven to be difficult for even him to master, and the skill cap is underwhelming him, which is a combination that is sure to have this game less than enjoyable to watch. So then what do you want?

You, on the other hand, find yourself drawn to him for several different reasons. He’s unconventionally attractive, which is hard to come by. He’s smart. He’s funny in a mean sort of way. And if you were really being honest with yourself, you’re pretty well fetishizing the virginity aspect, very high-key getting off on that power grab. You like the idea of being able to dominate someone who is so respected in the villain community. Want to see what exactly he’ll let you get away with doing to him.

“What are you playing?” His shoulders tense when you ask him this. 

There it is again.

That rollercoaster swoop in his lower belly.

“League of Legends,” he mutters, steadying his voice as much as he can manage. His tone is cool and even, but there’s this underlying shake that you barely make out, a sliver of the weakness that’s lying beneath the surface. 

Perfect.

You walk to him leisurely, place your hands on the back of the leather chair, your breaths tickling the nape of his neck, “Want to play something else?”

The screen flashes his face in stark technicolors, his breath hitching at the timbre of your tone. It sounds darker. Warmer. Sends a shiver down his spine.

“We could play RuneScape,”

With a giggle that bottoms out his stomach, you grab a lock of his hair to twist between your fingers. He smells kind of like fresh sweat from all of the panic. Has this rosy flush to his cheeks like he’s smoldering. And he trembles like a lamb, the poor thing, so unused to the physical attention. You can hear the irregular pattern to his breaths when you lean into him, his face awash in crimson, eyes owlish and large, peeking in your direction through his peripheral. What are you getting so close for? There’s no way someone like you is flirting with him right now.

“You could always play with me if you wanted,” you purr. 

Oh holy shit. 

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

He shuffles in his seat to readjust the tent in his pants. 

“Like,” he swallows thickly, “Like you.. want to be player two?”

You laugh under your breath, “Oh my God, you are so cute,” your hand finds its way to his chin, and you gently coax him to face you, “More like I want you to lay down on the bed and let me take care of you,”

Eyes like saucers, he nods his head, does as he’s told and lies supine atop his mattress. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he pleats them across his stomach, pinkies lifted. He feels like he’s vibrating. Every single cell in his body is on fire, his bones reduced to gelatin. You slot your mouth to his, pressing your lips together in a kiss that’s chaste at first, his stutter-stop gasps catching in the back of his throat. You only deepen the kiss when you feel him begin to relax beneath you, nibbling at his bottom lip, licking into his mouth, eliciting choked grunts from him as he tries to hold these lewd sounds back. Your hand traces the bulge in his pants, and his eyes bolt open, jaw slacked in surprise. With him rutting against the hand that paws at him, you part to take in his expression, all pink in the cheeks and puffing breaths like smoke plumes, looking so incredibly gone after such light petting.

“You’re doing so good,” his eyes gleam at your praise, willingly accepting the way in which you play him like your own little fiddle, “Now go ahead and take your pants off,”

He shamelessly gawks at you as you undress yourself, totally stripped down and bare in a way none of them have seen you before. If you’re going to be a first for him, he could at least be the first to see you completely naked. It takes him a few seconds to register that he hasn’t done the same, lurching forward to remove his sweatpants, the throbbing length of him now exposed. He’s already so hard he’s afraid he’ll cum as soon as you touch him, dripping from the tip and achingly hot. 

“Ever done this before?”

He shakes his head—not that you were expecting a different answer. 

“Don’t worry about lasting long, then, sweetness,” his cock jumps when the epithet hits his ears, “Just let me handle everything,” you climb on top of him, and he winces as your legs cage him in, at the way you look down at him as if you’re about to devour him whole, “You just relax and take it,”

He’s already panting before you’ve even taken him inside of that wetness between your thighs, his hips preemptively canting, four-fingered fists clutching the bedding beneath him. You pat his cheek, let him keen into the touch as you line him up to your entrance. Tomura gasps when the tip of him slips into the heat of your cunt, pupils blown out, back arching off of the mattress.

“Aahk! D-don’t move!” He whines as you sink down, enveloping his cock inch by inch.

His face is so needy and twitched-up, throat bobbing in an audible gulp, stomach coiling with that taut winding that threatens to pull him apart. Fuck, you feel so good. He can’t even vocalize how amazing it is, the pulsing grip of your pussy already near to pushing him over the edge. His heart is beating so fast you can feel it beneath your palms as you steady yourself against his chest.

“You like that? Gonna cum?” There’s a glint in your eye when you ask him this, something mischievous and wild as you slowly drag yourself along his length.

“Oh, f-fuck, I.. Nngh, I c-can’t, gonna—slow down,” the jumble of words he offers barely resembles a sentence. Perspiration lines his brow, tendrils of baby blue sticking to his forehead, smothered under the stifling pressure that’s boiling just below his skin.

“I think it’s time for that game I was talking about,” you simper, “It’s called, 'how many times can I cum on your cock before you bust from that alone?’”

He grins up at you, broken little whimpers giving way to a throaty laugh. Seems as though he likes the idea of you teasing him. But judging by all those scars that litter the pale expanse of his body, you should’ve guessed that he’d enjoy something kind of mean like this. 

“Do it,” he grits through his teeth, “Cum on me,”

The heaviness to his tone sends a bolt of electricity to charge through your veins. He catches his lower lip between his teeth, watching as you run your index finger along your clit in tight circles. Your expression twists, feeling his dick nudging that spot deep inside of you as your walls tighten, the sensation alone of being full of him like this pulling you closer to unraveling. You remove your digit, press it to his lips until he parts them, sucking it roughly. He flits his gaze down to your apex, relishing in the way it twitches each time he throbs within you. The knowledge that you’re getting such pleasure from feeling his cock has his head full of cotton. When you remove your finger, a string of spit breaks before you return it to your puffy clit. 

This has got to be the hardest he’s ever been.

With each swipe of your fingertip, you moan a little more, a little louder, the octaves of your voice climbing. 

“Shit, I feel you getting tighter. Hah—so wet and so fuckin’ tight,” he groans, absentmindedly clawing at your thighs.

“I’m-I'm cumming,” you spread your legs further, burying him deeper inside of you, the pulsing heat of your cunt sucking him in.

He takes in a deliciously ragged inhale, holds his breath for several seconds as you writhe, as you moan and spasm all around him. Tomura’s voice pitches higher, sighing and chest heaving, pitiful cries sounding off with each throb of your pussy.

“You sound so fucking cute,” you breathe. 

“What ‘m I—a-ahh—supposed to sound like when you’re fucking.. nngh, squeezing me like this?” He tosses his head back, growling, “Fuck. Fuck, I can’t take it, l-lemme move,”

“I know you can take it,”

“I can’t—“

“You can. It's gonna feel so good after you wait for it, I promise,” you card your fingers through his dampened hair, “Now hold still so I can show you how to make me cum yourself,”

You guide his hand to your apex, encouraging him to ball his hand into a fist so you can safely maneuver his thumb to the pulsing need there. He’s quick to overtake your movements from earlier, studying the way your expressions change, how the tilt of your brow and crinkle of your nose tell him the best pattern to move in. A lighter touch has you sliding your hips forward for more, and a firmer press of his thumb in those same small circles he saw you doing before has your face screwed up in pleasure. It feels different when he knows this reaction is from what he’s doing to you. 

“Am I making you feel good? Is that why you’re shaking like this?” His question is half a moan.

“Uh-huh. Keep going. It feels so good,”

“Shit, you look so hot like this,” he murmurs, husky and raw, “Been cumming in my hand to this thought for months. Aah—you feel so much better ’n I’d imagined. Got such a tight—uhn—pretty little pussy,” his babbling causes you to flutter around him, the muscles of your center constricting, and he tosses his head back, “Mmnn, how—how are you this wet and warm inside? Fuck, fuck!”

Before he even has the chance to ask for a warning, you’re tumbling headlong into another orgasm, that torturous slamming of your cunt driving him to madness once more. He curses under his breath, stifling a yelp when he hears you moan his name as you cum, as you writhe in his lap and gush all over him. He wants to pull out of you and see for himself how wet you’ve made him. If you were anyone else, he would ignore your demands, take control until he’s gotten off. But for some reason, he wants you to keep telling him what to do. The fact that you get to decide when he’s allowed his release has a tension winding deep in his core, a thread that’s close to snapping, barely held together by your command for his compliance. His gaze travels your form while you collect yourself, pushing the hair away from your face, your skin blushed and dewy. He takes in the curve of your jaw, the slope of your shoulders, the starry twinkle in your eyes. You’re the kind of beautiful that people write songs about. He has no idea how he managed to get you into bed with him of all people.

“You can cum when I do this time,” your words are beginning to slur, worn out from the excursion. 

You spread your legs wider for him, grind against him just enough to give him some friction, let him see his cock filling you up all the way to the hilt. He’s panting, strained and hot and aching as he rubs your swollen little clit. The idea strikes him that you may enjoy something different this time. A new stimulation that could send you careening over that edge quicker than before. He pinches your clit, rolls it between his thumb and index finger, and your walls throb in response. You’re so overstimulated that all it takes is for him to angle himself the slightest bit upward, to nudge the head of his cock into that soft spot up inside of you, the twitching of him the final movement that’s needed to have you raking your fingernails down his chest and marking him up for everyone to see later. His voice yields to another rasping chuckle at the sensation, ruby eyes lifting skyward, so pussydrunk and mussed upon the pillow that you’d think he had seen heaven.

“Look at you, so worked up over my cock and I’m not even moving. God, just looking at you is enough to—oh—t-that feels good. I love it when you cum,” he sounds so fucking deliciously broken that you can’t hardly stand it, a blissed-out mewl bleeding into the air that damn near resembles an actual meow. That’s how incredibly far and away you’ve got him.

“Yes. Yes. Oh fuck yes,” slithers from your lips, thighs quaking as you milk his dick for the third consecutive time, “That’s it. I want you to cum for me, Tomura. And I want it now,”

Snap.

In an instant the winding tension of that thread is broken, and he's sent over a tidal wave of euphoria that’s been building within him, the crushing, rapturous squeezing of your pussy pulling the release from him. He whines and whimpers below you, close to crying as you ride him outright, a reward for being such a good boy and letting you warm his cock all this time. With an iron-clad grasp, eight fingers clamping down, he takes the plush of your thighs within his hands to pull you down into him, to make sure you allow for him to pound into you while he finally gets to breed your cunt.

He’s wrecked below you, a mess on the mattress, splatters of white leaking out onto his legs as his lower lip trembles.

“Yumemi,” he gravels. 

You catch your breath enough to reply, “Yeah?”

You think he’s about to ask for a glass of water or for some help sitting up with how utterly devastated he looks down there.

But to your surprise, he asks, bright eyes locked onto yours, “Can we go again?”

Chapter 68: Encounter