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the writer and artist babies omg they're so cute i wanna put them in my pocket

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backstage freaky time with rockstar mikasa plssss 🙏 (if possible popstar reader or just fan/girlfriend) being all secretive and shi

𐐪 rockstar!mikasa a. + popstar!reader.

ᰔ warnings: afab!reader. semi public sex. strap on usage. brat taming lowk- highkey. slight marking/bruising. #fingersinmouth small mention!! squirting. wrote the half of this on a bus & a train, enjoy ig…..

mikasa, who’s 100% aware of the fact that you both have rehearsals in 15 (if not a couple) minutes, hence why she tries to make this as quick as possible. though, with the amount of restrained time you both have, it’s quite impossible for her to go easy on you because you’re so tempting: you look too pretty with your styled hair, your stockings and suit, she can’t be wasting this!! first thing she does is dragging you by the arm, whispering in your ear: “i’d like to discuss with you in private.” from there on, the dressing room’s air grows thicker as you two enter within the middle of a making-out session, roughly twisting your tongues together & rubbing yourselves against one another, as if you haven’t seen each other in years.

and if i say…..mikasa who sneaks her strap™ in the backstage?? sure, this is enjoyable enough when she has the relying of her fingers only, but something new wouldn’t hurt anyone, am i right? anywayss……feeling the prominent bulge as you press yourself further and furrowing your brows in confusion until you let a soft chuckle slip, realizing what it is. “you’re wearing that? seriously?” mikasa shrugs a look; instead of answering back to your obvious, sarcastic point, she frowns, as if she were personally offended. “y-you don’t like?” she looked unbelievably confident when she approached you, and whenever you play along with it, it lasts- if that. her hips withdraw a little, shyly because of your tone. “no, hey! i do like it,” you calmly answer, trying to soothe her apprehension. “s’just- i didn’t see that coming….you know,” you hiss, “i wouldn’t ever expect someone like you to bring that to backstage.”

people passing by the hallways of the building muffles itself down to white noise as mikasa genuinely whines from your statement; she might even like to talk back at your conclusion until she utterly remembers that your time’s arranged. not many tugs on the line you own: not a mere second will be thrown through the window, she thinks to herself. a hand slithers to your hip whereas the other goes straight your shoulder, balancing you to keep steady against the concrete wall. as your lips come in contact with one another again, your crotch ruts against the bulge with purpose now, the fabric giving the friction you’ve been searching for throughout the whole day. “mhh-” you drawl out, almost too loudly for how quiet you should be now. therefore, mikasa dispatches her lips from yours & slams the hand that was previously on your shoulder to your mouth. “shh,” your eyes widen slightly in bewilderment to her spontaneity, “you know i love when you make those noises, but we can’t be heard now.”

tossing her hand away from a few inches, you annoyingly complain: “augh c’mon, how come we can’t be seen? it’s not like we’ll get crucified or something!” and to your complete surprise, mikasa’s middle & ring fingers (from the same exact hand!!) jam down your throat within the speed of sound. you choke around the heavily calloused digits, a filthy gagging sound spills from the back of your throat. “please don’t make me go hard on you.” as much as mikasa wills to own a dominant stance, she looks indeed desperately feral. as if that sounded more like a question than an affirmation, her eyes lighten in crave & her mouth’s curled in a needy pout. your pulse drums against your ribcage at a brutal pace, the ache in your clit growing simultaneously. lifting your head up to find some room to speak, “or else?” you groan much to your dismay: was it supposed to be a threat?

one thing leads to another: one minute you’re teasing each other about the fact that you two should remain hidden, and the other mikasa’s pounding into you from behind with the strap buried in your plush cunt. your walls clamp around the silicone shaft as the flesh of your asscheeks slaps along her lap, the whole predicament has her behaving like a bitch in heat. her fingers linger above your hips, maneuvering you to keep composure as her thrusts grow sloppier. soft uh uh uh’s wheel forward with your muffled moans & a familiar knot in your lower belly.

“fuckfuck- mika!” you mewl, trying your best effort to be as quick and quiet as possible- even if mikasa’s turning it into a challenge. the tip of her cock brushes against that particular spot that makes your vision go blurry anytime, her momentum is fucking relentless and your slick pools in between your thighs. you fuck yourself on the toy progressively, bouncing your hips as to prove that you possibly need more, which makes her move faster if possible. “shh- fuck, i told you to be quiet,” she breathes. your mouth hangs open, letting out louder whines as she moves you uppermost, settling herself to give you a harsher, maybe the fateful thrust that makes your head spin and set atop of your shoulder to face her and state: “m’so close!”

that sight only is enough for her to become a furious beast, which increases by the way her clit bumps against the base of the harness. her grip on your waist tightens to the point that her nails dig in your skin, leaving a few half-moons upon the flesh. “uh-uh….oh baby,” she outright gasps, “come for me, i know you can-”

knock knock.

mikasa stops her movements and you tempt yourself not to scream when you hear someone hitting the door repeatedly, turning both your gazes to the metal handle. “rehearsals in 5 minutes. are you ready?” fuck, is she early or are we late? these questions tempest mikasa’s mind until she hears you from beneath: “don’t you dare stop.” as you state your desire, she looks at you baffled; yet, in total honesty, given the conditions you’re both in, 5 minutes or even less would be enough, right? sweat dribbles from her forehead as she finds herself stuck, unmoving. “miss y/n?” the presence wonders, the thrill (as needed for the crazy bitch you are) makes a smirk poke from the corner of your mouth & leaves you curious on how mikasa will handle the situation: until, to prove the opposite of your point, instead of letting it go for good, mikasa plays along with it and fulfills your pride by moving her hips like she was doing before.

she hesitated a little before committing to the action, but given the fact that you’re both incredibly close, this is the most inappropriate way to escape the shame; i mean, wouldn’t it be weak to leave up on you like that? as a matter of fact it’d be worse, considering how many fans would kill off their firstborn to have a chance with you. strokes begin timidly, still leaving the person standing by the door hanging, until you have the idea to mutter: “y-yeah, i’m almost ready. give me a minute.” god, it’s a miracle not a single noise slipped through.

“alright.” as soon as you hear footsteps on the floor, that gives mikasa the green light to go rougher. your folds part around the strap once again, leaking in so much wetness the toy slips in & out of your effortlessly, for now. mikasa feels overwhelmed as if she was the one getting fucked, panting and undecided on whichever she should stare at. yet, for sure, your back is truly a sight to behold; curved in a beautiful arch, revealing to her the mess you’ve gathered in between your thighs.

“mh, so pretty,” she rasps, “i can’t believe i get to have you for myself.” you buckle your hips until you feel mikasa’s thrusts becoming more sporadic; latter to a fault, unlike the easiness you were slithering onto it with previously, your walls clench around the strap violently now. “fuck! m-mikasa….m’gonna cum.” you moan out boldly, uncaring of people hearing by any chance. your head leans back one more time until, to mikasa’s enjoyment, the orgasm washes all over you, spilling upon the floor. your juices flow down to your ankles, leaving mikasa’s mouth agape. you give yourselves a minute to recollect, bathing in the quietness of the room that slowly blends in crowd’s noises. “i guess,” you pant, “i guess i’m not the only one who loves doing it in public, am i right?”

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