{Special} College!AU Jae

no but an image i have in my head is. u’re hyuck’s gf. have been for 2 years. and hyuck Knows just how much the other dreamies have a cute puppy crush on u and tbh he’s cool with it in a way “i’ve got her and u don’t” vibe?? like cocky confident hyuck who’s spurring ur moans and whimpers on while he’s fucking u on his computer desk so renjun and jeno can hear u clearer from where they’re pressing up against his door wishing they cld see ur face as hyuck fucks u!!! - 🎞

“what’d i tell you about biting that lip baby,” donghyuck probes. he’s given you countless reminders not to try and muffle the pretty noises leaving your mouth, each one going in one ear and out the other, lost to the haze of your brain. currently, your ass is presented nicely to donghyuck, with you being bent at the hips over the table. the pressure of his cock pounding against the spongy spot inside you has your mind fogging over, leaving you unable to speak and think clearly. despite this, your attention is recaptured almost immediately when your boyfriend slides his cock out from your hole. a chuckle escapes his lips when he sees your hips move in search of his cock, looking for something to fill you up once again.

“listen to me. if i tell you not to be quiet, then don’t be quiet. i want those two to know exactly what they’re missing. i want them to fuck their hands tonight thinking about how good your pussy would feel wrapped around their cocks,” he growls. placing the blunt tip of his cock against your hole, he pushes back into you, feeling your knees give in. donghyuck uses this to his advantage, tugging you back against his pelvis to reach even deeper inside you.

choked and breathless, you manage to sputter out, “h-hyuck please, ‘s too deep, i can’t take it,” which prompts another laugh to leave his lips.

“it’s cute that you think i care. you can take it baby, i know you can.”

Purple led lights

Summary: What was supposed to be a sweet date night wound up as a situation of lewd feelings and voyeurism. Dear Donnie, you fucked up big time.

Set on 2k14/16 verse

Donnie's 24 y/o

Fem!Reader

Warnings and story under the line. Only click on keep reading if you're 18+~♥

Warnings: NSFW / SMUT / voyeurism / dildo use / exhibitionism if you squint

-------------------------

There is a strange fixation on doing something without being noticed. At least, that was what Donnie used to think. Now, that principal threatened everything he worked for in his relationship with you.

Donatello could hear your small gasps and how you took a deep breath before releasing it in a soft moan. He is suddenly hyper-aware of the light surrounding the scene: led purple, illuminating your naked body. His pupils dilated, absorbing as much of the image as he could.

How did this come to be? He went to your house to surprise you with a full terabyte of new movies he knew you’d like. He planned a romantic night, it was his wish to make a good impression to try escalating things into something he had been wishing to do for so long: press his lips into yours and find out if they were as soft as they looked.

Little he knew his plans would be upset when you weren't home. He had texted you, but you didn’t answer either. Next thing he knew, Don was wandering your apartment, driven by that curiosity that new lovers have to know more of one another. Soon, he found himself in your room, your scent filling his lungs, blurring for a minute his common sense as he opened your closet. Donatello grabbed your clothes and sniffed into them, allowing the intoxicating aroma to fill him.

Just at that very moment, he heard your voice humming something outside of the room where he was invading your privacy. Panic shot through his body, sending his anxiety levels to the sky. The only thing he could think about was hiding. Well, not that there was time to do more than that, anyway. When you opened the door to your room, he had finished closing the closet door, locking himself inside.

True. He put himself in this awkward, arousing, and incredibly wrong situation.

You had turned on your led lights and set them on purple. Your hands caressed the buttons of your shirt, expertly unbuttoning them so the cloth could fall out of your body, and you went on removing every other garment on you until only remained a small turtle necklace.

His first thought, –aside from guilt– was that you were utterly ravishing, breathtaking, stunning. The way your nipples hardened to the feeling of cold, made him weak. You pulled out a device from your drawer. Donnie quickly recognized it as a dildo.

He felt a hot weave hit his cheeks. Donnie suddenly felt the need to fidget so to release the uneasiness he was feeling. He resolved to play with his fingers would be okay, since there was no space to do more.

You took a seat on the edge of the bed, holding up the seemingly plastic dildo. You licked a stripe on it. His hand flew to his mouth when he heard himself gasping, and for a moment there, Donnie thought you’d hear him, so he waited, closing his eyes, squeezing them, and holding his breath hoping not to get caught.

A few seconds passed before he heard a vibration sound, followed by a small whimper. Donnie took a deep breath and made himself look through the slot in the closet door again.

You were laying on the bed, butt naked, caressing your neck with the small device, sliding it down to your chest, your face twisting into a delicious frown that talked about how nice it felt to have it navigating your sink.

Donatello sighed, wishing to replace it with his hand. The desire grew stronger when you drove it close to your hard nipple and pressed over it. A loud moan escaped your lips. Electricity ran through his spine.

Donnie's heart was beating so fast he was surprised you hadn’t heard him. It beat faster when driving the toy lower. The vibration filled the room, along with your small whimpers.

By that very moment, his crotch was already killing him. It was painful to feel the pressure of his dick in his pants. It felt weird to have such a low instinct awakened by an action that was completely fucked up, but for some reason, that thought made it even more arousing.

Was he a bad person? Surely. Disgusting? undoubtedly. But everything had happened so fast, and Donnie could swear he did not come into your place with bad intentions, he just wanted–

“Donnie,”

He froze, eyes widening in disbelief. Did you moan his name? He surely must have misheard, yes, that was–

“Like that, right there…” You closed your eyes, moaning softly, pushing the toy inside you. Now the vibrations sounded different, and so did his name when you cried it out one more time: so desperate, so inviting that Donnie almost threw his self-control off the window and came out of the closet.

Almost.

Instead, his hand moved to his crotch, stroking it lightly as he bit his lower lip so as not to moan. His breathing became heavier, despite his attempts to keep it down. Donnie's eyes narrowed when fisted his cock, pre-cum already sliding down the tip. He used the liquids to lube his shaft, making small movements that were intensifying with every passing second, with every moan leaving your mouth.

“Donnie… more,” you whimpered as you took one finger inside your mouth and sucked on it. “Fuck me.”

Your voice started to echo throughout the room. “Fuck me deeper,”

He increased his pace. Wet noises filled the small closet. He grasped one of your clothes to drive it close to his nose. Gosh, the sounds his dick made embarrassed him endlessly as a pleasant, familiar feeling coaxed in his lower belly.

“Make me come…” you moaned “Donnie please… please,”

He saw you elevating your hips, your head falling back as you came long and loud. Donnie bit his tongue while waves of pleasure spread through his body, roaming it as he came all over your closet door.

The delight was so intense he couldn’t help to lose his balance, and in a desperate attempt to stop himself from falling, his hand flew to the front, seeking support in the door, but small closet doors were not made to hold up a mutant’s weight.

Before he could do anything, the door swung open, and Donnie stumbled out of his hiding spot, dick still in his fist.

“What the fuck?!!” you screamed, contracting your legs toward your chest in an attempt to cover yourself up.

All traces of arousing left his body at once. The only thing he could focus on was your shocked expression, gaze stuck in his cock, realizing what he was doing. Donatello wanted the floor to open up and swallow him right then and there.

Instantly, he knew it: he had entirely fucked up everything.

pt.2

Lucifer: 'Demon of the Week' board? Seriously? I refuse to-

MC: Mammon already has two gold stars on the board.

Lucifer:

Lucifer: You know, I haven't scolded anyone today now that I think about it.

Lucifer: Surely...that warrants some sort of...adhesive of the star shaped variety?

MC (putting a star): Wow that is good coming from you. Good job Luci! ♡

Lucifer: (accidently purrs)

Lucifer: Ahem! Thank you.

Gally: And of course, Y/N was there, looking at everyone with her ridiculously big eyes.

Minho: Why is he talking about Y/N?

Newt: I don’t know. I asked him about the new shack and somehow we ended up here.

Anything For You - Yandere!Yuta X Chubby!Reader

Yandere AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Smut (Very Passionate, Much Desire)

Pairing: Yuta X Reader

Words: 23,040

Warnings: Minor Fatphobia, Self-Esteem Issues, a long ass rant about beauty standards, mentions of mental health and a brief mention of suicide (in passing, really), a few instances that could be interpreted as eating disorders. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I am both super excited and nervous about this one! I will say, I am really proud with how this one turned out, and as this is the third time I am writing this post out, I really hope it works this time lol. I do apologize for taking so long to post, it turned out way longer than I anticipated, but I think it’s well worth the wait. I do not think Yuta would ever act like this, this is just my interpretation of the archetype (and also a very self indulgent fic). As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Disclaimer: Everyone has their own definition of what they consider to be chubby. As a chubby person myself, I kept this in mind while writing, and did my best not to incorporate specific markers on the OC’s appearance. Just know that while there aren’t many explicit physical markers of the how chubby the reader is (other than the mention of plush thighs once, I think), this fic is meant to be read with the intention that the reader is chubby. Does this mean you cannot read this fic if you are not chubby or do not consider yourself chubby? Of course not!! I just thought that this was important to let you know. I also 1000% do not condone yandere behaviour.

This one is for the ones who feel like they cannot fit into a certain ideal or beauty standard society has deemed the norm. This one is for the ones that have felt, or continue to feel unworthy or deserving of love because of their weight, and/or how they look. This is for anyone who needs it.

This one’s for me.

Keep reading

GNreader, humiliation, aphrodisiac;;

it's just a small blurb yet I can't stop thinking about jealous Barbatos who don't really like how much time you spend with his Master, so in one of your usual tea parties he put something interesting in your cup and then just keep standing near Diavolo's chair with the most calm and relaxed face, watching as after some time you start panting more and more, blush creeping to your cheeks slowly as it starts to be hard to focus your gaze on something.

Oh, of course, as a good servant he would immediately take your hand, supporting you and helping to get some fresh air. Or at least that's what be said to Lord, before leading you in his room.

..needless to say there wouldn't be any gentle foreplay or even possessive sex, as he sat on his bed and just enjoyed your sobs and whines, while you sat in front of him on the floor, begging to do something. Well, of course our generous Barbatos would lend a helping hand for you. Or should I say a helping leg?

It's so humiliating to hump his foot like that, yet you better experience some mockery from this cunning demon than trying to fight this unbearable heat between your thighs. Your whole body leaning to his leg, as you almost press your whole weight to it, bouncing and gyrating your hips for more friction. But for Barbatos it's the most beautiful view to see, as he absolutely adores your red from shame face, and the way you grasp on his knee so desperately…

Fine, he will help you relieve this aching arouse, but only with the tip of his shoes.. And only after you promise to never get too close to the young Master again. There's much more interesting things in this castle to explore besides his stupid little talks, you know? Barbatos is sure you will find some quality time all alone with him much more …pleasurable.

Best Friends Club

summary: prompt fill. Wally's been your best friend since the Grade 4 puppet show. a disaster that brought you together for life. only now, years later and months away from graduation, Wally needs to get something off his chest. he just...didn't exactly plan to do it this way... (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. friends to lovers. protective behavior. AU. silliness & fluff. Simon and Wally are bros (fight me).

bon reading, frens

___________________________☄️

Best Friends Club

Wally's chatting with Maddie and Charley before school, has his arm around your shoulders as you focus on your phone, laughing and joking and smiling wide until:

"Holy crap, Jake Tremblay just asked me to go out Friday," You announce, pretty eyes wide, blinking in shock at everyone.

Wally goes still, smile sliding off his face as his stomach drops and his heart ups and lodges itself in his throat. God, this hurts.

See, the thing is, you're Wally's best friend. And while he has his arm around you—is always reaching for you, hand on your back, arm, shoulder, whatever—it's never been anything but friendly. Best friendly. Because you and he are f r i e n d s. And it sucks. Royally.

Why? Yeah, no one needs three guesses to figure out that Wally's been in love with you since Grade 4. That massacre of a puppet show the kids put on for their parents during Spirit Week. You and Wally spent the entire performance using sock puppets to have a dialogue about who'd win in a fight: Goku or Sailor Moon. Didn't even notice the blood vessel about to pop in Mr. Toast's temple when things really started to spiral.

Wally only comes down to earth when you say his name for what must not be the first time, everyone's eyes on him. Yours, especially, beautiful and concerned as you stare at him expectantly.

"What was that?" He asks, feeling simultaneously dumb and unable to function.

You repeat, "I asked you what I should say..." and turn to face him fully. Still close enough that your body heat soaks through his hoodie. Fuck, how can he say anything negative when you're giving him that sweet, earnest expression? Seeking advice from someone you trust implicitly.

Against his better judgment—or maybe for it—Wally slaps on a smile and says, "Yeah. You should go for it."

This isn't the first time you've been asked out. Of course, those last few times you didn't look so keen on accepting the offer. When you turn back to your phone, Wally's face immediately falls. He doesn't look at Maddie or Charley, can't handle the pity he knows he'll see in their eyes.

Everyone in the circle knows about Wally's crush on you (fuck, it's so much more than that), but apart from insisting he talk to you, no one points it out. You're the only one who hasn't caught on, Nicole having informed Wally that you giggled over popcorn, what are you talking about? Wally's always like that, when everyone was at the APEX for a midnight screening of some scary movie Wally couldn't have cared less about.

And, sure, Wally is 'always like that': Goofy, charming, flirtatious; standing in line at concessions for you and holding your bag when you go to the bathroom... What you don't seem to grasp is that Wally isn't like that with anyone else. And now you're saying 'yes' to Jake Tremblay and Wally has to muster the strength not to punch a wall.

‗•‗

Simon closes his locker only to jolt backwards. Wally appeared out of the fucking ether, what the hell? He has his forehead pressed against the locker beside Simon's, shoulders slumped, looking all-in-all miserable to exist.

"Yoouu okay?" Simon ventures, raising a brow.

Slowly, Wally turns his head and nothing else, eyes puppy-dog sad and lower lip pursed in a pout, "No." And then, after turning to face the locker again, "She said yes to Jake Tremblay."

"Dude, I've told you a thousand times, talk. to. her." Simon says like a mother insisting Wally clean his room.

Pointed, "Oh, you mean like you talked to Maddie?"

Simon takes a moment to reevaluate his life before, in a placid, neutral tone, declares, "I regret this friendship."

"No you don't." Wally says, but he's still glooming into the locker. "What do I do?"

"Aside from talk to her?" Simon shrugs helplessly. How's he supposed to know? He and Wally have been paddling the same sinking boat for approximately the same number of years. "Do you...wanna threaten Jake?" Simon asks in a pitch similar to that used when asking children if they want to go for ice cream after a tantrum.

Wally seems to seriously consider it but glumly decides, "No. I want her to be happy." A heavy sigh. "Even if it's not with me."

"This isn't going to make you some kind of martyr, you know."

"I know."

Simon doesn't think Wally does know, but fine, he'll play along. "Maybe it'll go so bad that she swears off dating forever."

"A guy can dream," Wally mumbles as he straightens, and, Jesus, he looks like every kitten in the world just got launched at the sun and he was forced to watch.

Simon can see beneath Wally's utter despair to the gears turning in his brain. Can sense what ill-advised plan Wally is cooking up (because this isn't the first time he's done something stupid to ensure you're safe). In an effort to, a) avoid criminal charges and, b) make Wally feel better:

"What if I happen to be in the same place at the same time? I could keep an eye on things for you." Simon suggests and he already wishes he didn't say anything.

Wally brightens, "You'd do that for me?"

"Apparently..." Simon says, questioning himself. "Look, better me than you, right? Otherwise, it'll be exactly what it is and she'll never talk to you again."

"Why? What would it be if I do it?"

"Stalking, Wally," Simon states as he heads into History, Wally at his heels.

"Hey!" Wally protests, "It's not like that!"

Taking his seat, Simon just gives Wally a pointed stare, "Buddy, I know you read those BookTok romances, but following your BFF on her date with another dude isn't a romantic gesture. It's creepy a-f."

"But...you'll do it for me?" Wally wants to confirm, his eyes all wide and pleading.

Simon sighs, thinking this is a terrible idea, but seeing Wally so sad breaks Simon's heart and he can't bring himself to take back the offer. "...Apparently."

‗•‗

Friday comes. It's all you've been talking about since Monday and Wally has had it up to here with Jake This and Jake That, and if he hears one. more. thing. about Jake, Wally's going to burst into a million pieces of ragehate and take the whole school with him.

But he smiles and nods and teases you like he would in any other situation, bumping your ass with his hip when he finds you bent over at your locker at lunch. You don't even need to look to know it's him, simply continue to shove your backpack in your locker and grab your jean jacket.

"Diner?" You give him a sunshine smile that Wally returns, almost forgetting about your date and Jake and how you're not actually Wally's girlfriend.

Not in this lifetime, his brain reminds him bluntly.

His blood stings.

Over lunch at the diner down the street, you outline exactly what Jake has planned. Dinner at the Italian place beside the Arcade (it's fucking Olive Garden, Jake, do better) and then—Jesus, really?!—stargazing on the roof of the old cigarette factory. An organized thing. The planets will be in some kind of super rare alignment or something, and local enthusiasts have banded together to share their telescopes.

"No offense, but since when do you care about the planets?" Wally wonders as he dips his fries into your ketchup.

You shrug, "I mean, it's something to do, right? And you're always telling me to 'branch out and try new things, dorkface'," You exaggerate the last part in a parody of Wally's voice before continuing as yourself, "so, why not astronomy?"

"Because it's outside and you hate outside things before May." Wally chuckles and shakes his head, "You're gonna get cold and complain and steal Jake's hoodie like you've stolen five of mine."

Wally loathed the idea of you stealing another guy's anything, but he smiles through the jealousy. Perhaps a little too intent on smearing more fries through your ketchup as his knee bumps the underside of the table in quick, nervous intervals.

Oh, he is not doing well.

He instantly notices how you've gone still, how you're studying his expression, words, behavior like a zoologist at the gorilla enclosure because Wally can't fucking keep his cool when he's forced to think about you being cozy and cute for someone who isn't him-shaped.

Wally keeps his eyes on his plate for a few moments; long enough that you gracefully change the subject and ask Wally what his plans are for tonight. As if they don't involve hanging out with his phone while he obsessively waits for Simon's updates throughout the course of your date.

"Nothing special," He says, patting himself on the back for keeping his voice even, "just hanging out at home."

‗•‗

It's 8:43PM when Wally's phone lights up with a call. As promised, Simon kept Wally abreast of every. single. thing. you and Jake did on your date. From flirty conversation over unlimited breadsticks to shifting to one side of the booth to split dessert.

It's only been an hour and a half since you and Jake were seated. What on earth could Simon have to tell him that couldn't be texted?

"Don't freak out—" Wally promptly freaks out "—but something happened."

Wally shoots up in bed, where he's been whiling away since he got home from school, and is immediately on alert. Heart pounding, blood pumping, ready for war.

"What's going on? Is she okay?"

"Oh. She's fine." Simon reports. He sounds like he's hiding, voice a harsh whisper just loud enough for Wally to hear. "Jake might be in a permanent body cast for the rest of his life, but she's totally fine."

Wally breathes a sigh of relief, although he's still confused, "What happened?"

Simon clears his throat, "She's probably going to call you in, like, a minute, so you have to act...just...be cool, okay?" And then, finally, he reveals, "Jake tried to stick his hand under her skirt. And I mean, he went for it. Full grope from behind."

At that moment, Wally sees fucking r e d. He's off the phone and in his car faster than a bullet, tearing out of his parents' driveway with a screech. Burns rubber around every corner; breaks several traffic laws; and pulls up just as you're about to get into an Uber. There's no sign of Jake. Unfortunate, since Wally has a surplus of adrenaline thrumming through his veins, and the only cure is beating the guy's face to a fucking pulp.

You look confused for all of a second before your face crumples. Wally gets out of the driver's seat and hurries toward you. Gathers you in his arms as soon as you're within reach, and holds you as you shake. He rubs your back, soothes you with soft words; managing to simultaneously shoo the Uber driver away with a polite nod and a gesture.

"Are you okay?" He asks after a minute. "Do I need to kill him?"

"...No," You mumble into Wally's chest. "I already did that."

Wally grins, though it's sad at its edges. You shouldn't have had to.

"That's my girl," He murmurs into your hair after he places a comforting kiss on your head. "Come on. I'll drive you home."

You go without resistance, even allowing Wally to fuss over you and buckle you in. As he settles behind the wheel, he glances at you again and realizes, "Whose jacket is that?"

You press your lips together and stare at your lap, "I got cold... Besides, after what he did, I think I earned it." You end firmly, crossing your arms.

"Did you take it before or after you kicked his ass?"

"After, duh." You say like it's so obvious, "We were inside before. But I didn't want to wait for my Uber in front of everyone who saw what happened. So...I made him give it to me."

Wally barks a laugh as he takes your hand, holding it in that platonic way, fingers not laced how he wants them to be, but he'll take what he can get. Your knuckles are raw where they made impact with whatever part of Jake you punched. Wally smooths the pad of his thumb over them. Gentle. Loving.

"Where to, sweetcheeks?" He asks, "Home or ice cream?"

"Home." You decide with finality which makes it hard to swallow around the lump of disappointment in Wally's throat.

Call him selfish, but he hoped you'd want to let him comfort you. Regardless, he does as he's told and pulls away from the curb, pulling a uey to head toward your house.

‗•‗

On Monday, Wally finds Jake in the boys' locker room after swim practice, his black eye looking like it needs a twin. Wally punches Jake hard enough that even he sees circling birdies.

He shakes out his hand as he leaves without a word, hardly feeling the pain through the smug satisfaction warming his belly.

‗•‗

It's the next weekend when you invite Wally over for a casual afternoon kick back. I need Best Friend Time, you said, all adorable and gloomy, wanting to put all thoughts of ever dating again behind you (thanks for putting that out there, Simon, you da man!). Wally's in, of course he is, on the road as soon as you hang up.

Your parents are having a late lunch with friends a town over, so it'll be just you and him for a while. Games and snacks and Domino's on the menu for dinner. When you answer the door for him, you've got some of that sunshine glow back in your eyes, your smile making Wally's heart flutter.

You lead him to the basement, everything already set up: coffee table pushed aside for the nest of blankets and pillows on the floor, bags of gummy worms and twizzlers (Wally's favorite) and those Canadian chips you like in a pile beside cans of Dr. Pepper and Coke Zero.

Wally wore his cleanest sweatpants for the occasion, matching your chill vibe. And damn those low-slung yoga pants and that fucking tight-as-sin tank top, no bra because you love to drive Wally crazy.

"Ready to have your ass handed to you again?" You joke as you get comfortable on your side of the nest.

Wally claps back, "Hah! You haven't won in three months, sugarlips, what makes you think today's the day?"

You just smirk and hand Wally a controller, "I have a plan." And that's all there is to it. You don't elaborate, don't hint, don't give Wally any indication whatsoever what this plan might be.

Fishy...but effective. You're already in Wally's head. Hmm, maybe that's the plan? Wally shakes himself to attention and starts the game, grinning like a shark as he gets the lead right off the bat.

Just as he's about to cross the finish line, "So much for your pla—" the world suddenly tilts sideways. He can't finish his thought, barreled over by your weight crashing into him as you grab the controller right out of his hand.

You squeal victoriously, the sound rebooting his brain, and he realizes what just happened.

"Hey!" He tries to grab the controller, but you hold it up and away from him, big smile on your face as the screen announces Wally's demise. "Not fair!" He wraps his arms around you and flips you onto your back; presses his weight into you as he uses the advantage of his longer limbs to snatch the controller back.

Apparently not taking this lying down, you band your legs around his waist then surge up, somehow summoning the strength of five Wallys to roll him onto his back again. Stunned, he stares up at you as you wave the controller victoriously.

"You were saying?" You chuckle, smug as ever, slightly out of breath.

Oh, but Wally isn't done yet, miss ma'am. He snaps his hands up, clamping his fingers for the controller which you arch your back to hold away from him, crying out when he takes advantage of your off-balance position to knock you backward. Once more, he has you squirming beneath him.

He grabs one wrist and then the other, transferring both into the grip of one of his large hands while he plucks the controller from you with the other. That's about the moment he realizes, uh-oh, he can feel your breath on his lips. Your face is such a beautiful shade of pink, and your thighs are on either side of his hips. Wally's body is completely flush against yours. All of him. Every. Last little bit. of him.

Wally should move. Definitely. He should move right now; just get off you and pretend everything's normal and you're not gazing up at him like that and his lips aren't so fucking close to yours, and the air hasn't been sucked out of the room that no longer exists around you and him because there's only you and only him and fuck. Shit.

"Wally~?" You say, voice a whisper tinged with something that makes Wally's cock twitch. Heat, maybe. Or need. You swallow, the sound audible, and, oh fuck, Wally watches your eyes flicker to his mouth then back, like you're finally on the same page, like you want it, too.

His hand flexes around your wrists, body settling more firmly on yours, and he stares at your face as he rocks his hips, just once, experimental, just to see what you'll do. He knows you can feel him, stiff and hardening further, all his inches against the heat of your pussy through your thin as fuck yoga pants.

Your reaction almost explodes Wally's brain. That sweet little whimper, how your eyes glaze over and your lips part; how you mimic the action with one of your own, sending sparks of electricity through Wally's nervous system.

"Fuck," He chokes out, grip loosening around your wrists, but not letting go. He drops the controller. Instead uses that hand to brush his fingers across your cheek and down the slope of your jaw. His breath mingles with yours, the heat in him rises, his heart beating a frenzied tattoo in his chest. Is he really going to do this?

"Please," You say, so soft, so perfect, that, yes, Wally is absolutely going to do this.

He gently bumps the tip of his nose against yours, smiles in wonder that this is really about to happen, and then slowly, to give you a chance to turn away if you don't want this, he leans in, stopping only to tease, "One more time, princess." His voice low and husky.

He feels you tense and then release before whispering, "Please, Wally..."

That's all he needs to lean in and kiss you for the first time, his lips capturing yours with years of hunger and desire and fucking love. So much love it threatens to go nuclear if Wally doesn't share the burden right this minute.

He moans, grinds his hips against yours, his cock throbbing against you, God, he needs you so badly. Has needed you so badly since he first discovered how his dick works and probably even before then. He lets his hand roam down down down, then up under your tank top, fingers caressing the soft shape of your breast.

You keen and arch into the touch, and, holy shit, he can't do this slow. Next time—please Jesus, let there be a next time—he'll do this right. He'll do candles and rose petals and Barry Manilow, but right now, he has to know what it feels like when you come around his cock.

His kisses turn urgent, his movements more hungry, and you match his crazy like a mirror. His shirt first, thrown behind the TV, then yours, tossed somewhere near the coffee table. Wally takes a second to admire your bare chest, licks his lips, and then descends, starving for a taste. He sucks your nipple, twirls his tongue around it, moaning as if it's the best thing he's ever had in his mouth.

Which, as soon as he peels your yoga pants off and resituates himself between your spread-wide thighs, he knows isn't true. This is the best thing he's ever had on his tongue. He spears it in and out of you, moaning and panting as he kisses your pussy deeply, brings one, two fingers into the mix; pumping into you over and over until you shake and beg and arch so fucking pretty for him.

"Fuck, baby, I need to feel you come," He groans, shoving his sweatpants and boxers off and throwing them somewhere to find later.

You agree enthusiastically, reaching for him as you hook one leg over his hip, the other over his shoulder—Goddamn, were you always this bendy!?—and cry out like a heavenly chorus when he drives his cock into you. Fuck, God, his eyes roll back in his skull, it's the most incredible feeling, an indescribable euphoria flushing through him from scalp to soles.

"You feel so...big, Wally, oh my god," You gasp when he begins to move, and doesn't that just rub his ego the right way?

He genuinely can't even find the brain cells to reply, too busy losing himself to the sensation of being inside you, finally, so much more intense than any and every fantasy he's had of you and him entwined like this.

"Baby," He moans, hips pumping faster, fat tip hitting your sweet spot over and over and over until he feels you tighten around him, hears you gasp, and then moan in ecstasy.

He wishes he could last, that he could keep going until you come again, again, again, but he's waited so long for this and it's overwhelming, he can't do it. With one, two, three more quick thrusts, Wally tenses and then groans, grinding his release into you; leaning down to take your lips in a feverish kiss.

As you and he recover, he rests his forehead against yours, releases your wrists—oops—and cradles your face in one hand, his most precious girl a vision in the afterglow. You shift, your hands on his jaw, and you're looking at him like the sun, moon, and stars.

"How long?" You eventually ask.

Wally doesn't need you to clarify. He knows exactly what you mean.

"Grade 4."

He watches you absorb the information, nod, and then your eyes meet his when you make your own confession, "Grade 3. Ms. Houette's class. You made a joke about seagulls that was so lame it was funny."

Wally about short-circuits. He begs your finest pardon, but what was that? "Grade...3?"

"Grade 3."

"...are you saying that I could've been loving on you—" He emphasizes with a roll of his hips, winces from oversensitivity, "—since before I even understood what that meant?"

"I'm saying I've had a big, stupid crush on you since Grade 3." You say, innocent and solemn, "You take that however you want."

Wally chooses to forego the existential crisis and simply enjoy that he has you under him. There's a lot of time to make up for and a lot of fantasies Wally wants to bring to life, which you and he do with gusto until your parents get home and call down a hello.

Later, after redressing in a tornado and greeting your parents face-to-face; after stammered updates and weak conversation; after retreating to the basement to watch a movie and cuddle—Lord, you feel so good in Wally's arms, he never wants to let you go.

After all that, during a lull in the movie, you finally ask, "So, are you going to tell me how you knew what happened with Jake before I told you?" And you prop your chin on his chest, looking up at him with amusement.

Wally gulps, facing the screen as he desperately tries to come up with a feasible answer. Nothing comes to mind, though, so he's stuck offering:

"Uuuh...?"

You sit back, on your knees between his legs, and raise a brow, "I know Simon was there. You can tell him that Groucho glasses do not a disguise make."

Sheepish, "He's a good bro...?"

"A very good bro," You agree primly, "A bro who stalks one of his best friend's other best friend because...?"

Now Wally knows he has to tell you. He sits up himself, hands finding your waist, eyes earnest and sweet as he admits, "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn't know anything about Jake and you never let me vet any of the guys you go out with—"

"Yes. All three of them." You say flatly, rolling your eyes.

"One, three, five, doesn't matter, baby, I always wanted to make sure they were good enough for you..."

"So, did you make Simon follow me and Dan to the movie last year?" You wonder.

Wally glances away, guilt muddling his expression.

"...Did you follow me and Dan to the movie last year?"

"If I say no, will you believe me and let me cuddle you some more?"

Your jaw drops, eyes round, and for a second, Wally's sure he's about to get the boot. Not just from your house, but from the Best Friends Club altogether. He's already mourning the loss of your touch when you abruptly burst into laughter, crashing into him like you did before, only this time a lot gentler.

You nuzzle your face into his neck and then kiss his face all over, grinning down at him with the same beautiful smile you always give him.

"You're not mad?"

You shake your head, "I made Xavier come with me to that football game you took Melissa to last fall..."

Gobsmacked, Wally blurts, "You hate sports," since it's entirely relevant to how you stalked him as much as he stalked you on dates neither of you wanted the other to be on.

"I don't hate sports. I like sports. I hate all the pauses and the time outs and the—"

Wally cuts you off with a kiss, at first just a stamp of lips to lips but slowly melting into something softer, deeper, more heated.

Wally pulls back a fraction to say, "I love you, babygirl," looking deep into your eyes. One hand on your hip, the other in your hair, releasing a long, shaky breath as he waits for you to say something.

Finally, a smile spreads across your face and you kiss him again, short and sweet and meaningful.

"I love you, too, Wally Clark." Then, completely off-topic and far less romantic: "Do you wanna come with me when I stalk Simon's date for Maddie?"

Tires screech as Wally's brain comes to a full stop. Sorry, what was that? "Wait, Mads wants you to follow Simon?"

"Oh yeah, she's liked him for ages, but he never seems interested so...you know...she doesn't wanna risk the friendship."

"Jesus Christ." Wally looks at you, totally serious when he sighs with the exasperation of an ignored parent, "You know, I've told him, like, a thousand times to just talk to her." A helpless shrug, "He never listens."

‗•‗

Several days later, when you aren't looking, Wally steals the jacket you stole from Jake. Does terrible things to it before throwing it in Jake's face the following day.

Wally replaces the jacket with his letterman and has never been prouder of himself when he sees you slip it on without question.

☄️___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

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if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Marshmallow Miles.

a cutie-smut-lite oneshot wherein Wally wants to celebrate your birthday away from Split River. Because he can.

i feel so bad because i love this place and i love the people that have stayed with me on here but like hm

I’ll Bandage You Up (Michelangelo)

Pair: Michelangelo x Reader

Word Count: 3,578

Rating: T for language, blood, and fluff.

Content/Trigger Warnings: Blood, attempted assault.

Authors Notes:  Thank you all for being patient with this next round. I wanted to upload this last week, but some self-care was needed. Please enjoy! If you want to read versions featuring Leonardo, Raphael, and Donatello, just click!

Generalization:

The night was the perfect late-spring, early summer temperature. Few cars rolled along the city streets, and the alcohol kept your mind comfortably buzzed from your rare outing with friends to the local Barcade. You should’ve known better than to walk home alone. Perhaps you had grown overconfident knowing there were four pairs of protective eyes watching over the city in every shadow. Not only had you befriended the hidden protectors, but one had occupied your mind even while you daydreamed. Knowing he was out there made the giant city less terrifying. And the thought of him kept you warm and content during your monotonous day-to-day routine.

Especially when you were alone…

Perhaps that’s why it didn’t seem so strange when the sensation of being watched prickled at the back of your neck. Why, you had ignored the tick in your legs that urged you to run. Why you had been so surprised when a set of hands shoved you into an adjacent alley. Why your limbs refused to move as if rooted in the asphalt.

There were six of them. Strange men of various heights and builds; some had hair, some didn’t. Some had weapons in their hands, others boasted kneading fingers and eager palms. The only thing they had in common were the devilish grins and terrible glares on their faces, the sight of which made your blood run cold.

Your voice caught in your throat as your mouth opened to scream, holler, anything for help. Only one thought flooded your mind as dread nestled itself in the center of your chest.

Tonight, you were going to die.

A massive shadow dropped in front of you just as one man lunged forward. The assailant bounced off the wall of muscle; the stunned stares from the rest of the group could only mean one thing…

“Stay behind me.” A familiar voice commanded, deeper and rougher than you were used to. 

Your lips parted, and eyes widened at his timing. Before you could form thankful words or ask how he knew where to find you, the group charged forward. Save for one man that had sense enough to run out of the alley.

You stumbled back at their charge and your heart pounded in your ears as you watched the fight unfold…

Keep reading

Hey! I'm not sure if you're still accepting these, if not it's totally cool but you're writing is amazing I just had to ask! Could you do one with 24 and 49 with Mikey and a female reader? Again I absolutely love your work!!!

I most certainly can 👍

"Spit on it."

"I've been missing these panties for weeks, tell me why I just found them in your drawer."

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

Finding something in Mikey’s chaos was no easy accomplishment. If anything you’d consider yourself a professional scavenger hunter by the end of it, you could set out to look for Atlantis with how confident you’d feel.

Mikey’s room wasn’t dirty, it was just messy. The boy did his laundry, hell even did yours when you would stay for weeks on end with him, but where was everything put?

In god fucking knows where, that’s where.

The current missing object was a pair of underwear. A dumb thing to be huffing and puffing about but at some point in the night as you slept, you had remembered the satin (and not cheap!) undergarment you’d bought from a bougie online store.

They came in a set with an equally beautiful bra.

They were also (on purpose) orange.

You should’ve seen it coming, naturally that one night you’d worn them he’d nearly proposed with a ring pop before going to town on you for a few hours. In that daze (and after sleeping like a rock all morning) you had completely forgotten the piece of satin fabric.

You searched almost everywhere. Under the bed, the drawers, you even snuck a look on Raph’s top bunk if maybe by mistake it was there but nothing. Just as you were about give up, you looked back at Mikey’s bed and squinted your eyes. You tossed the blanket and scanned, you tossed your pillow and then his.

Nothing.

“Dammit” You mumbled grumpily before your eyes landed on his night table.

Could it be that easy? You extended your arm from defeated position on the bed and dug inside.

Just as Mikey walked in, you pulled the orange satin fabric and looked back at him.

"I've been missing these panties for weeks, tell me why I just found them in your drawer." You gave him a face, brow raised and lips pursed in a line.

And here’s the thing you’d learned quickly while dating the orange banded terrapin, his propensity of not feeling in the slightest embarrassed about things like this, were astronomical. In fact the little shit had one of YOUR jackets tied around his waist right now and a bracelet that was also yours around his left wrist.

Mikey placed both his hands on his hips as you spun the underwear around your finger. “I believe those are mine” He said, the audacity of this man sometimes.

“Oh excuse me, you’re most certainly right, you’re usually wearing all MY clothes” When he approached the bunk you gripped your underwear away from him. Smirking triumphantly you watched him frown then cross his arms. “Come on babe, I like ‘em! There’s no crime in that and you take plenty of my stuff” He huffed out, pointing at the sleep shirt you were actually sporting right now.

“Mikey, one Rum DMC shirt you wore when you were nine does not count, it’s either that or I freeze to death” Colder weather down here could be pretty strong at times.

“Well sometimes you’re not down here for days and I miss you” He smirked, it only took you a few seconds to understand. “You better wash these!” You scooted towards the edge of the bed and grabbed him by the hem of his signature orange and black shorts. Ninja skills permitted him to halt your attack and instead hold your hands. Mikey had the audacity to giggle as you tried to sneak your way out, runt of the group or not he could show off his strength so easily at times.

He knelt down in front of you and kissed the inside of both your wrists.

“What color are you wearing now?” He asked softly, switching his advances onto your knees. Almost on muscle memory your legs spread but you wanted to stand your ground, and not lose another pair!

His fingers massaged the backs of your knees and you bit your lip.

He kissed the exposed parts of your thighs, shirt riding up ever so much.

And futilely but not unwelcomed, your legs began to spread for him.

“Yellow is so cute on you babes” And parting is such sweet sorrow, another pair about to be stolen right in front of you. He smiled up at you as he did it too, slid the fabric down your legs and off before gently nudging you to lay on the bed.

He hiked up your legs over his shoulders and gave your sex a soft kiss, enjoying that little tremble he pulled from you.

“You mad at me?” He asked, the absolute picture of sunshine. You sat up slightly on your elbows and red faced told him, “Spit on it” much to his fucking delight.

You wanted to groan, embarrassed at how much it excited you to see that string of saliva fall onto your folds before Mikey, quite literally, dug in like it was dinner. The moment he felt your hands on the back of his head, pushing him forwards, he churred. The three fingered vice grip he had on your thighs was comforting for you, that expert tongue of his flicking over your most intimate and sensitive spot al ready had you squeezing his head with your thighs.

And to add more to your embarrassment, Mikey without difficulty or harsh breathing, pulled the first and second orgasms out of you via his tongue. Just when you began to babble incoherently, he yanked another one from you that sent you back on the bed with your hips thrusting upwards into his face.

Hearing him groan only made it worse, feeling him restrain your thrashing with his hands only made it worse.

Your hands shot up towards your mouth to hold in the moans that everyone would clearly hear. In your haze you managed to open one eye and find that Mikey had reached up to sneak his hand inside your shirt to grab your breast (he normally did that when he was close)

Oh.

You placed your hand on top of his, resting your heels on his shell as he worked you over faster and bringing you to one more trembling release. You nearly bit down on your hand as you felt relief and excitement spread all through your body. Mikey moaned as he released your clit, hot gusts of air hitting your thigh as he shook.

“Ffu-“ He opened his eye slowly, seeing the skin of your thigh and feeling your hand rubbing up and down his forearm. Moving a little so as to look up at you, he gave your boob a small squeeze. “You good, girl?” He swallowed catching his breath. All you could do was nod, wiggling your toes to flex them.

He kissed your thighs before giving it a gentle bite. Slowly as he stood, you saw the mess he’d made of himself but soon those were slid and kicked off.

Mikey was already climbing onto the bed with the mission to knock you out with a few more rounds.

How else would he be able to steal your newest pair of underwear?