22themoon

[22themoon]

This is my fucking wank app what do u MEAN back 2 school section

[22themoon]

This is so beautiful

Work in progress! Decided to do a project that includes everything I hate: fabric textures, clothing folds, an actual background. Still, I love Katsuki! And Izuku is going to be in here somewhere! 👀

[22themoon]

summary: messy+drunk sex with Katsuki Bakugo.

🫧🌱

Maybe you probably should’ve stopped earlier, like when your vision started moving quicker than your brain could deal with, although considering your boyfriend seemed fine you had faith in Katsuki Bakugo’s soberness to get you both home safe. At least, that was your mental plan until the alcohol got into his bloodstream too and you were both tumbling down into the back of a taxi, hands drunkenly tangling in each others hair and smearing messily reapplied lipgloss inbetween your mouths.

You’re ever so glad you remembered to both book and pay in advance before you were drunk, because the last thing your hands want to be occupied with right now is cash when they could be grabbing at your boyfriends shoulders from the back while he fumbles with the house key. Or, once you get inside and he kicks the door haphazardly closed behind you, they’re preoccupied with pulling your halterneck over your messy hair and pressing soft flesh to muscle in the hallway of your home.

He tastes like booze; it should be more bitter than usual but somehow the remnants of vodka present on his tongue are almost sweet. Or maybe it’s the pornstar martinis talking. Either way, the only thing in your alcohol ridden mind is taking off every single item of clothing keeping you two apart and getting drunk-fucked into next weekend; a prospect which looks very promising when Katsuki continues panting into your mouth.

“Fuck, y’gonna kill me-“ he groans, sloppily licking at your neck while two calloused palms come up to palm at your exposed chest. You miraculously make it up the stairs without falling and concussing either of you, steadying yourself with clammy palms on the wall and banister, clawing at anything for support. Including Bakugo, who now sports a set of bright red scratch marks down his chest.

You can’t even remember him taking his shirt off, but none of the logistics matter because somehow he’s still coherent enough in his movements to wrench your skirt and underwear down in one fluid movement while you kick your shoes off and watch him drunkenly struggle with his belt buckle.

“Y’need some help there, Kats?” You giggle, completely naked on the crumpled sheets of your shared bed.

“No, I don’t. Fuck up. Shut off, or whatever it is.” You get in response, and to have the Katsuki Bakugo tripping over phrases as simple as “fuck off” and “shut up” he must be entirely too far gone. However, lucky for you both, no amount of alcohol will stop his dick from remaining hard, a fact that is once again proven to you when he awkwardly pulls his boxers down and his cock springs out, flushed and throbbing, already beading with precum.

He all but collapses onto the bed, haphazardly crawling on top of you and licking into your mouth. He fumbles below you, a testament to his lack of fine motor skills at present, and groans in frustration when his tip bumps at your clit for a third time. You really do not have the time for this, and as such take matters into your own hands- quite literally, as you shove a hand down your front and wrap it around his cock, guiding it to your entrance and moaning wantonly into his mouth when he finally slips inside.

It’s so good, the alcohol heightening your senses and increasing any sensitivity while dulling the stretch you’d usually experience during sex with Katsuki that included no prior foreplay. You’ll be sore tomorrow, but when you’re so tight, wet, perfect around him how can Katsuki resist dragging in and out of you so harshly?

You’re convinced the alcohol has made you wetter, and you can hear it- squelches that would be embarrassing if you were sober emanate from between you, the relentless audio loop of the soft shlick shlick shlick crawls into your eardrums and nestles there until you’re not only drunk on alcohol but Katsuki too, chasing the high you know he’ll give you soon.

You’re clawing at his chest, back, head, arms- anything you can reach isn’t safe, jagged lines marking up his skin and dragging over the old scars that litter over his chest and arms, right over his heart; he’s got his elbows propped up either side of your head, blonde hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and all messy from your hands earlier. At present, you’re half attempting to keep a leg looped around his waist but failing miserably due to the fact you’re so drunk you probably couldn’t distinguish between an arm and a leg if you tried.

Whatever you’re doing though, it’s working- you’re clenching tighter and tighter around him, wet pussy keeping him in a vice grip while your throat burns with moans and the traces of sweetened shots. You need him closer, some carnal need to have him as near as possible; you bury his head into your chest and he doesn’t even protest- another sign he’s drunk, usually he’d never let you tug him to and fro like this unless he’s eating you out and even then he’s liable to stop until you let go.

It’s so messy, slick smearing on your thighs and the base of Katsuki’s cock below you; you’re literally covered in a sheen of both sweat and drool, mascara smudged and lipstick long gone, naked and covered in bite marks. He isn’t faring much better, hair completely fucked up and skin covered in marks that you won’t even remember leaving when you both wake up tomorrow.

“Fuck, Kats, m’gonna cum-“ you tell him, more of a warning than anything else because you’re liable to draw blood if you dig your nails in any deeper. You’re angled just right, his flushed tip bullying at your cervix and every ridge leading up to it; every time he pulls just barely all the way out and shoves himself back inside your soft pussy, he manages to hit every single gummy spot inside you that makes stars explode inside your eyelids.

It’s even messier when you finally do cum, pulsing around him and whimpering into the humid air between you both; you can hardly believe it, you just orgasmed with barely any attention to your clit, you’re still squirming and sensitive- it doesn’t stop Katsuki though, who keeps animalistically rutting up inside you like he couldn’t stop if someone tried to pull him out of you. It takes him a few seconds, but he cums soon after- panting into your hair and groaning at the way he feels his own orgasm leak out of you and dribble onto the sheets below.

He barely has the wherewithal left, let alone the soberness, to roll off of you and lie next to you, still as naked as you and in a similar state of fucked up. While he doesn’t have mascara smeared over his face, he’s completely covered in scratches you’ll profusely apologise for tomorrow. He doesn’t care, if he could he’d ensure you fuck like this everyday and not just exclusively when you’re both drunk far, far past your limits.

You don’t even say anything, just drunkenly mumble into his chest as you turn onto him and tangle your limbs with his. He’s the same, too tired to bother cleaning anything up or grab a glass of water. He’s worried he might puke if he moves too fast, and so resigns himself to keeping his eyes firmly squeezed shut and sleeping. You’re both completely knocked out within five minutes, and you don’t wake up until at least one in the afternoon the next day, when you open sticky eyes to even stickier thighs and groan.

“Fuck you, why didn’t you make me have a shower?”

“Shut up.”

“I thought it was ‘shut off’ or did you mean ‘fuck up’, Kats?”

🫧🌱

masterlist

thanks for reading! Comments/feedback appreciated :))

a/n: the kinktober 2025 list is basically finished (yes I know I’m a month early) and I am SO excited to upload it!

[22themoon]

(DON'T) BE CARELESS WITH ME | PART TWO

✦ content: eren jaeger x female reader, modern au, angst, alcohol, background death mentions, explicit language, sexual content, reader discretion advised. 18+

✦ word count: ~4.8k

read part one here

You stared at his name on your phone screen for so long that it no longer looked like a word but symbols from a strange language you’d never seen before. It looked wrong, almost. 

Are you home?

Above Eren’s text was the last one you sent him years ago. One he hadn’t replied to. 

You sent him a picture of the diner he swore was the best. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. Evidenced by the giant PERMANENTLY CLOSED sign plastered across the front door. 

You snapped a picture one day and sent it to Eren with the message: Looks like they’ve missed their favorite (and only) customer. 

When you didn’t hear from him then, you took it as final confirmation he’d given up on your friendship and figured you should probably do the same. Whatever version of Eren you still clung to no longer existed.

Seeing that ignored message drudged up all sorts of old feelings. Your stomach soured how it had the first time, and every time you thought about it after that.

At one point or another, you probably would have said the few years Eren was in your life were not some of the best but the best. You liked your life then, really truly, would have shouted it from the rooftops, liked it. That wasn’t to say you disliked your life now, but nostalgia has a knack for fuzzying up the past, doesn’t it? Making everything all sunshiny and warm and irreplaceable.

You liked being on your own, without a roommate, for the first time, and you liked how comfortable you felt in solitude. There was a strange sort of independence you had back then that you’ll never have again, because you’ll never be in your early twenties again. Faux-dependence. A juvenile naivety that empowered you enough to believe you could manage blurry-lined feelings for a friend while continuously skirting and straddling that boundary, and it would never go any further than that because you wouldn’t let it. You were different; you were strong enough to handle such a touchy, temperamental situation. You could balance an over-bloated balloon on the tip of a sewing needle and absolutely nothing would ever blow up in your face. 

It sounded pretty dumb now, but they say ignorance is bliss for a reason. And it was bliss, pure and unadulterated. You could drink more beers than you could count on one hand and not wake up with a hangover. You could nod off with your head on Eren’s lap (it was okay because there was a pillow separating you) and you wouldn’t spend the following day wondering if he was still thinking about it, too. You were carefree, you convinced yourself. Nothing could keep you tied down. 

Since then, one stupid night colored that entire season of your life. What was once bubbly and rose-tinted—nights spent together on the snug loveseat you had back then (since sold for the low low price of a six pack) with your legs draped over Eren’s lap; him, unbothered by this, happy to lift and replace your weight every time he had to stand; eating microwavable popcorn, two bags, two bowls, because he’d drizzle hot sauce on his—were now swathed in grays. Murky, wet paint billowing across frail paper, smudging what was once, in your opinion, a fine-looking painting. Now, you couldn’t remember the last time you bought popcorn. 

You shoved the sick feeling down the same way you shoved your phone into the very back of your junk drawer, amongst the loose change, hair scrunchies, and old receipts you thought you might need again but never did. Dramatic? Perhaps, but it was the only semi-helpful solution you could come up with to forget about the stupid text. Pushing him back into the depths of your brain, both metaphorically and quite literally.

Admittedly, you never truly stopped waiting. For what, you weren’t sure. Much like last night, you had this gnawing in your gut that this wouldn't be the last you’d hear from Eren. 

The thing was, you just didn’t expect to hear from him that soon. Later into the evening, you heard a knock at your apartment door. Your heart skipped a beat before sinking so deep within you that it might never crawl back out. Maybe you’d talked yourself into it, or maybe you’d finally lost your mind, but you believed right then you still recognized Eren’s presence by his knock alone—learned the rhythm by heart, apparently. Some things never change, for better or for worse.

Now, there he was, standing at your doorstep and waiting to see if you’d invite him in. You would, of course. He knew that, too. 

Eren’s face softened the second he caught your eye. “You don’t want to know how many of your neighbors I just met.” 

You remained tight-lipped. Partly because you didn’t know what to say, partly because you were lost wondering how you’d explain this to your nosy, elderly neighbor later. But that was a problem for another day. There was a bigger, taller problem looming right in front of you. 

“Can I come in?” the problem asked.

You stared longer than you meant to, but your little protest stood for nothing, not after you conceded with a sigh and said, “Of course you can.”

Earlier, when you said Eren’s name looked wrong on your phone—well, he looked wrong in your apartment, too. Though you’d imagined it, this moment, before, the pieces didn’t fit right together. Like you’d torn him out of one magazine and glued him into another. Two things that never were really supposed to go together, a mishap of a collage.

His eyes meandered over the walls, the various paintings and picture frames you’d hung forever ago, taking in the tiny world you created without him, oblivious to or choosing to ignore how you studied him. You were still questioning how you could go nearly four years without speaking, then jump to him nosing through your belongings like he hadn’t gone all this time ignoring them—your things, your life, you. All of it. 

For a second, you thought it was the fact that he looked too large for the space—it was a studio, afterall. Smaller than your old apartment, but located in a more vibrant part of the city—that must have been the reason he looked out of place. Or perhaps it was because he was effectively in your bedroom. It was too intimate, in a way, him amongst your well-loved duvet and mismatched pillows, as if he had any right to be there. What you felt right then—that flitter in your heart, that acrid taste on the back of your tongue, as sweet as it was sour—meant nothing to you and it meant absolutely everything to you. You had no idea what to make of it.

When Eren finally spoke, he wasn’t looking at you. He was hunched forward, examining the books lining your shelf like he was searching for something in particular. “Sorry I came by so late.” Your eyes flickered to the digital time on the front of the oven. 10:24. “I could have been here sooner if you answered your phone, you know.”

“I lost it,” you lied before you could think it through. 

“I’ll help you find it,” he replied easily. So easily, in fact, you knew he didn’t believe you. He probably enjoyed the look on your face, too, when he pulled his phone from his back pocket to call yours. 

You didn’t even pretend to stop him. The distinct rumbling of your phone against wood echoed from your kitchenette. You winced, shuffling backward to retrieve it from the drawer. Eren gave you a strange look, a knowing smile, and the back of your neck began to burn uncomfortably. 

“It’s not like you have any room to talk about—” You interrupted yourself with a huff and tried to disarm your own defenses. “Forget it. You obviously came here for a reason. Which is…” 

You gestured for him to fill in the blank, and he did. “I wanted to make things right,” Eren said, “between us.” 

The sentence alone—no, that word in particular—made your stomach curdle.

“You keep saying ‘us.’ There never was an ‘us.’ You made sure of that.”

His face twitched like the words had grown wings and stung him like a wasp. Still, he didn’t back town, taking the pain in stride as he admitted, “What you said last night, you were right. I have regrets—one, actually—and I feel guilty as hell over it. I was so ashamed for leaving you that morning, then up and leaving altogether, that I couldn’t bring myself to face you again. I mean, after so long, how could I?” Then his voice dropped to a mumble, so low that you couldn’t tell if he meant to say it aloud. “I only hoped you’d move on, forget about everything—me. Even if I couldn’t.”

As if you were suddenly drowning, this roaring in your ears like water, you couldn’t make out what Eren said. You heard him, yes, but at the same time, somehow, you couldn’t decipher a lick of it.

“If you knew it was so wrong,” you accused, “then why run away in the first place?” 

Eren took a while to answer this one. 

“When I woke up beside you that morning, I—I don’t know. I just freaked out, I guess,” he lamented. “I looked at you and I couldn’t believe that wasn’t going to be my life anymore. That I could have had so many more of those mornings, we could have.”

How he spoke, the resignation in his voice, sobered and subdued—you couldn’t recall another time he sounded quite like that. You blinked, hard, just to stop the stinging in the corners of your eyes.

“I had the thought that if I didn’t leave then, I might never.” He snorted, just once, like he was in disbelief of himself. “I thought I was being logical. I didn’t want to make this big of a decision with my heart rather than my brain. The smart thing to do was to take the job, right?” The question was rhetorical, but he still gave pause. “I was too stupid to put it together then, but it turned out that my brain wanted the same thing my heart did, and by the time I put it together, I’d already made the biggest mistake of my life.” 

You didn’t want to hear him anymore. It hurt. You wanted him to stop talking. 

“What we did that night was a mistake,” you corrected, albeit shakily. 

Eren frowned. “Don’t say that. It wasn’t a mistake. Not to me.” 

“Then why did you leave without saying goodbye?” you cried out. You couldn’t hold back this time. Your patience with him had long worn thin; you finally let yourself snap. “You couldn’t even bother to pick up the fucking phone in the last four years. What else was I supposed to think?” 

You could yell, but you wouldn’t let yourself cry. You refused to. You were over this, over him. Again and again, you swore it to yourself, and you wouldn’t break that promise to yourself now. 

Eren took you by your shoulders so there wasn’t any mishearing him when he said, “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry that I made you think that night was a mistake.”

You were shaking, not realizing so until you felt yourself trembling in his grasp, and you prayed he wouldn’t notice. You thought he might have, though, because he released you not even a second later. 

“Abandoning you without any explanation will be the single greatest mistake of my life. I thought I would just have to go on living with that, but I decided I can’t,” Eren asserted. “Not without you, not anymore.”

You scanned his unwavering face, his eyes determined on yours without so much as a flicker of hesitation. There was a tug at your heart. How desperately you wanted to believe him, if only because such sugar-coated words tasted so sweet, palatable; not-so-cloying when swallowed and smooth on the way down. 

“Eren.”

You hadn’t forgotten how his name sounded on your tongue, how it still felt as though it always belonged there. You soaked the feeling in, closed your eyes and savored, maybe longer than you should have, but ultimately, you released it on a lengthy exhale. Rubbing your hands down your face, fingertips pressing so deeply against your eyes that you saw color behind the lids, you explained, “You have to understand where I’m coming from. I’ve only seen you, spoken to you, two out of the last thousand-odd days. I don’t even know if I can say I know you anymore, let alone believe your smooth, weirdly convenient, might I add, apology.” 

There was this glint in his eyes you recognized. He wanted to argue otherwise, that he still knew you like the back of his hand, maybe better, and always would. To the ends of the Earth, he would. That was how he knew you’d let him into your apartment, and also why he knew to bite his tongue. 

As fast as the look was there, it vanished, replaced with a hopeful-child plea. “Then what if we started over?” 

Eren went as far as to extend a hand toward you. You stared, thinking the last thing you wanted to do was to shake his hand and he’d be delusional to think anything different. You had to admit, though: the gesture made you laugh. A quick, one-note sound, which, reflecting on it, was most likely his goal. 

“Start over,” you repeated under your breath like a question. You weren’t sure if you could ever return to what once was, but that wasn’t what he was asking of you, was he? This wasn’t a request to jump back into life like nothing ever happened. This was a complete do-over. A chance for you to get to know this new Eren, four years older than you remembered him. “Like two strangers?”

“I would hope you wouldn’t let a complete stranger walk into your apartment this late.”

You couldn’t help your smile. Like your laugh, it was quick, close-mouthed. “Acquaintances then.”

“Acquaintances,” he agreed.

“But I’m not going to shake your hand,” you made clear before he could try to go for it again.

“Fair enough.”

In your mind, there were two ways this night could go: you could send him on his way, promising to meet for coffee before he left town but not entirely meaning it. The second, you could mean your word and give him a fair shot, just for tonight. To choose the latter meant, even if this night went to complete shit, you wouldn’t spend the rest of your life wondering what if. It also meant you’d have to meet him halfway, not inviting him in just to give him the cold shoulder. In order to do that, you thought, then you absolutely needed to loosen up with a drink. 

You inhaled a hearted breath. “Well then, acquaintance,” you said, trying to be cheeky, “I think we could both use a drink.”

He gave you a quizzical, sideways sort of grin. You took it as the go-ahead to grab the bottle of vodka you kept tucked in the back of the freezer. 

“What are we having?”

Holding the bottle by its neck, you rifled your free hand through your cabinets. You were sure you had at least two shot glasses. You found a novelty one you received during a bachelorette trip, shaped like a cowboy boot, and another you’d snagged from your favorite bar in college, its splotchy logo worn from one too many rounds in the dishwasher. 

“Shots of vodka,” you said matter-of-factly because no, you didn’t have anything that qualified as a chaser on hand. 

Eren pulled a face when you set everything on the coffee table but didn’t complain. You dropped to your knees on the rug and began filling each glass to the near brim. 

“It’s an old bottle, just so you know,” you said only to fill the silence. For whatever reason, you felt self-conscious about the quarter-full bottle in your hands and your quickness to reach for it on a weeknight. Eren joined you on the floor, sitting opposite you, and accepted the cowboy boot you slid toward him. “It’s just been a weird week with…”

He was smart enough to finish the sentence himself; you already said too much. 

With an apologetic grimace, Eren (smartly) dodged the subject further and gave the most monotone “Cheers,” that had ever been uttered in all of human existence. 

“Cheers.” You threw back the shot, swallowed, and remembered exactly why you didn’t do this often. 

“So.” Eren cleared the bitter vodka from his throat. His eyes flitted to the bookshelf in the corner and back to you. “I noticed you still love your shitty romance novels.”

“They’re not shitty,” you scoffed, though some of them totally were. “Also, I don’t think that’s something an acquaintance would say the first time they’re in someone’s home.”

Eren’s laugh unrolled from him, and yours did too. “You’re right, I'll take it back. I’m sorry.” He shifted his weight and leaned back on one arm, legs easily outstretched before him. “I guess what I should say is I’m glad that hasn’t changed.”

Your heart lifted. You didn’t know what to make of the sensation, the warm flutter in your chest, so you poured yourself another shot to wash it away. 

“Yeah, maybe that’ll change when men finally stop being so disappointing,” you dead-panned. It wasn’t an intended jab at him, but you wouldn’t be surprised if that was how it came off. You chose not to acknowledge the slip-up and took the shot instead and felt how your entire face puckered as it went down. 

“Hit me,” Eren said, sliding the little boot across the table. You filled it a little too well and some vodka dribbled over the rim. He took the shot anyway and licked his thumb clean. 

“Disappointing, huh.” He chewed on the thought for a second, which made you antsy. “Does that mean you’ve been seeing someone?” 

“No,” you said, the truth, “not right now.” You could feel the alcohol in your cheeks. What you left out was the reason none of them were still around: they weren’t him. 

“But there has been someone, right? Or someones.”

“Someones isn’t a word.” You nudged his leg with your foot under the table. “And yes, obviously. Please don’t tell me you spent all this time thinking I’d run off and become a nun.” 

Eren chuckled at the thought. “Of course not. Just trying to play catch-up is all.” You could tell he was trying not to be weird about it, which, in turn, made you feel extra weird. 

“How about you then?” you asked, shuffling, ready to tilt the conversation away from your love life before he disastrously realized how lackluster it was. 

“It’s been…” He drifted off there, thoughtfully choosing his words. Thriving was what you wanted to fill in for him. He smiled with just the corner of his mouth, not a proud smile, and averted your gaze. “It’s been a challenge.” 

Your shoulders unbraced. A part of you expected to hear he had a fiancée or something. Deep down, you knew that wouldn’t be the case; he (hopefully) wouldn't have shown up at your doorstep like this if it were. You hugged your legs and rested your chin on your knees in this do tell kind of way because you sensed there was a story coming. 

“Well, for starters,” Eren leaned onto his other arm. “I didn’t have any friends for, like, the first year after I moved.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“It’s true. I don’t think I even left two-block radius around my apartment unless it was for work. That is until…” He waited before he let the second shoe drop. You couldn’t help but think he really hadn’t changed much—and that brought up even more feelings you chose to ignore. “I got laid off.”

Eren was impassive with the reveal, still you felt your brows dip with sympathy. “Oh. I had no idea.” Which was a silly thing to say considering there was no way you could have known. “That really sucks. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged with one shoulder. It probably did suck, but that was three years ago, you remembered. He was well over the ordeal by now. He motioned for the vodka, and you pushed the bottle toward him. 

“In retrospect, it was for the best. Like I said, I had zero life outside of that job,” he explained as he poured a shot, then tossed it back without so much as a cough. You second-hand winced. “But I wasn’t ready to admit that moving was a mistake, so I tried to make the most of it.”

“Do I even want to know what that means?” 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he dismissed with a playful roll of his eyes. “Far from it, actually.” 

He studied the chintzy glass in his hand. If you had to guess, you’d say his mind was a million miles away from here, thinking about everything in the world besides the teeny cowboy boot. 

“The first time I—” He cut himself off before he phrased things poorly, “brought someone home—hold on, just follow me here.” You wondered what your face must have looked like for him to say that and quickly fixed it. “So, we were about to, um, do it when I…” Then he muttered the last bit.

“You what?” you urged.

“I fucking cried,” he finally spat out. He appeared as mortified as he was shocked, like he couldn’t comprehend why he started this story in the first place and would surely blame this blunder on his back-to-back shots tomorrow.

You slapped a hand over your mouth and hoped your laughter wouldn’t slip past. You wished you could say you had more tact—oh, who were you kidding?

“Don’t laugh!” Eren said, half-laughing himself. 

You had to screw up your lips to stop yourself. Between fits, you asked, “What type of cry was it?” 

He groaned. “Don’t ask me that.”

“Was it a sniffle?” you tittered. “Or was it more like a full-on blubbering thing?” 

“It was not a full-on blubber.”

Sure, but that still didn’t answer the question. You didn’t linger any further and moved on for the sake of more pressing details. “What happened next?”

“I hate how invested you are in this.”

You held up your hands innocently. “Hey, you’re the one who brought it up.”

“Whatever.” He pointed his shot glass at you. “You’re behind. Drink.”

Your head was spinning, not unpleasantly, from the two shots and the giggles, and you found it hard to say no. 

“Anyway, humiliating, right? I don’t even know what came over me.” You heard him say as you swallowed the vodka in two regretful gulps. You gasped a breath, not paying him any mind as the alcohol blistered down your esophagus. He rambled on about something—what, you didn’t hear—before you caught him confessing, “To be honest, your face popped into my head and all I could think about was how I wished it were you again.” 

There was this beautiful blink-and-you-miss-it moment where you could have sworn no time had passed between you and Eren. No awkward acquaintance bullshit, just two friends drinking middle-shelf liquor, sprawled out on the roughly stitched rug, laughing and giddy and hoping that time will pass a little slower for one night. The moment was over now, and you already felt a pang of nostalgia for it. 

“Eren,” you said quietly, “don’t do this.” 

He dropped his head between his shoulders. “You weren’t supposed to react like that.”

You barked an almost cartoonish ha! that surprised you. “Oh yeah? Tell me then, how was I supposed to react?” 

When he lifted his chin, you finally noticed the ruddiness of his cheeks and deduced that the alcohol must have caught up with him over the last few minutes. You watched his expression bloom once he realized you weren’t upset but wearing an interested grin, thinking this ought to be good. 

“You were supposed to say.” He straightened out before doing the impression of you he’d done a million times before. “Oh, Eren. That’s so sweet—” Before he could get anything else out, you flipped him your middle finger, and he began laughing. “No, but I at least thought it might soften you up.” 

“So did that actually happen, or was that just a made-up story to try to get into my pants?” 

“No! It actually happened, I swear,” Eren assured, hands waving and eyes big; you could see the whites all around. “And I’m not trying to get into your pants.”

Without thinking, you asked, “What are you trying to do then?”

“What do you think?” 

The two of you stared at each other until his face became a blurry blob of gold in the buzzing light of your table lamp; the world around you dissolving into deep bass that thrummed against your skull, deafeningly loud for something that wasn’t really there. 

Your skin prickled in anticipation, waiting but not participating, as Eren crossed the coffee table to get to you. Propped with one palm supporting him, inching closer and closer, his other hand warmed the side of your face. Your eyes fluttered shut, if only for a second, and his lips were nearly to yours. 

“Eren, this…” The bridge of your nose brushed against his ever so gently. “This doesn’t feel right.”

He didn’t move in, but he didn’t move away either. You felt his forehead tip to yours, his whisper against your mouth when he asked, “Doesn’t it?” 

A shudder racked through your body—as if you didn’t feel pathetic already—and it answered his question enough. To preserve any semblance of self-control you had left, you pressed a hand to his chest to put some distance between you. 

“No. Not like this,” you told him with a heaving sigh. “I’m drunk, you’re drunk. This is the second time we’ve seen each other in years and, Jesus Christ, you’re here for your dad’s fucking funeral.”

Reality smacked Eren across the face like it had you—perhaps you could have been gentler in your delivery. He ran a grounding hand through his hair and sat back on his heels, a safe distance from you once more.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded but said nothing else, fearing that if you didn’t allow your heartbeat to steady then the organ might burst from your chest. Once it had, and you decided there was nothing else left to say, you stuttered, “I’ll go to the funeral with you on Friday, by the way—if that’s something you think you’d want, I don’t know.”

Whether or not Eren deserved your kindness was yet to be determined. Still, that didn’t negate the compulsion you felt to be there for him, even if, should the roles reverse, he didn’t have the same sense of obligation. 

Everything aside, Eren smiled softly. “Yeah. I would like that.” He placed a hand atop yours and gave a gentle squeeze, but to you, it felt more like he held onto your heart in his bare hand. 

There was no chance in hell you would send him out to find a ride back to his hotel, not in this state, not after what just transpired—mainly, you just didn’t want to be alone yet. Either way, you fetched a spare blanket, fluffed some pillows, and tried half-heartedly, drunkenly, to make the couch-bed appealing before giving up.

Eren thanked you and meant it. You hugged him (did you mention you were drunk?) and only held him there for a second, your face nestled in the soft cotton of his shirt, before reaching on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek—for no other reason than he looked like he could use it. 

You told him goodnight even though you wanted to take his hand and lead him back to your bed, merely a few steps away. You tucked yourself in, wanting to kiss him until he could only think about his bruised bottom lip instead of his bruised heart. To swap breaths back and forth until you were high off your own supply and absolutely dizzy with it. 

You shared this bed before, and if you focused on the thought for too long, you could practically feel Eren beneath you again, inhale the very same heady scent that still stuck to his t-shirt. In just a pair of boxer briefs, he sat perched and pleased, you straddling his lap, with his hand shoved down the front of your underwear. Head thrown back, your hands pinched the muscles of his shoulders as you clung to him while you came undone. He smiled against your chin, you remembered that well. He nibbled your jaw and kissed down the thin skin of your neck before throwing you onto your back to devour you whole. 

You stayed awake until you were sure he was asleep, after his breathing had slowed and become melodic, hitching at the top of each breath. Only after you knew there wasn't a chance of you asking him to crawl into your bed with you, just this once, please, did you let yourself doze off.

previous part | next part coming soon ♡ thank you for reading

[22themoon]

I just finished the chapter where they go to the beach and build legos, this also means i finished the fic!!! Maybe if i stop reading at the good part i will be saved from agony and despair bc its going so good i fr cant take it having to see things go to shit🙁

I’m finally starting To love a liar

I am viscously scared and also feeling like shit so hopefully starting this will put me in a better mood? I’ve heard horror stories of later chapters being upsetting but i hope tonight it stays nice for the time being (aka tonight where intend to binge as many chapters possible)

I’ve been stalling this because it feels like my last rations of good quality eren content out there, in a sea of writers who have forgotten abt my sweet baby eren <\3 i hear @butterflytint is my last hope and so i have good faith

I’m also scared to start it in case it’s truly is the last ration so wish me luck on my treacherous journey. Stay strong guys

[22themoon]

I wrote this at 10pm and it’s 00:45 now and i told myself i’d stop once i reached hello kitty bandaid

So proud to say i predicted that some guy would bother y/n and eren would fuck up his fists because of him hence hello kitty bandaids and this prediction was only from the title and i was only at the arcade by this point

Im tweaking out so hard I haven’t felt this amazing reading in ages I feel like i’ve relapsed from a drug but the only reason I was sober because factories stopped producing FUCK

I love u forever butterflytint i hope you know this

I’m finally starting To love a liar

I am viscously scared and also feeling like shit so hopefully starting this will put me in a better mood? I’ve heard horror stories of later chapters being upsetting but i hope tonight it stays nice for the time being (aka tonight where intend to binge as many chapters possible)

I’ve been stalling this because it feels like my last rations of good quality eren content out there, in a sea of writers who have forgotten abt my sweet baby eren <\3 i hear @butterflytint is my last hope and so i have good faith

I’m also scared to start it in case it’s truly is the last ration so wish me luck on my treacherous journey. Stay strong guys

[22themoon]

I’m finally starting To love a liar

I am viciously scared and also feeling like shit so hopefully starting this will put me in a better mood? I’ve heard horror stories of later chapters being upsetting but i hope tonight it stays nice for the time being (aka tonight where intend to binge as many chapters possible)

I’ve been stalling this because it feels like my last rations of good quality eren content out there, in a sea of writers who have forgotten abt my sweet baby eren <\3 i hear @butterflytint is my last hope and so i have good faith

I’m also scared to start it in case it’s truly is the last ration so wish me luck on my treacherous journey. Stay strong guys

[22themoon]

“I Look Pregnant!”

It was supposed to be a simple date. Just dinner. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere with good food that didn’t smell weird to you.

Bakugo had picked the little ramen place you both liked—clean, not too loud, and the old man who ran it knew to double up on the spicy broth just the way you liked. Everything had been going fine until about halfway through your bowl, when you suddenly pushed it away and slumped back in the booth with a groan.

Bakugo blinked at you mid-slurp. “What now?”

You sniffled, rubbing at your nose with the sleeve of your oversized hoodie, your lower lip quivering dangerously. “I-I… I got so bloated I look pregnant…”

Bakugo paused, chopsticks frozen in mid-air. “Babe.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I am pregnant, I know, but I look like I'm extra pregnant now! Like second baby-level pregnant. Like I’ve got twins. Or— or like I’m about to pop. And all I did was eat some noodles!”

He dropped his chopsticks and let out a sharp, almost choking sound—somewhere between a laugh and a cough.

“Katsuki, don’t laugh at me!” you whined, burying your face in your hands.

He absolutely was laughing.

Actually—he was wheezing.

“You ARE pregnant,” he managed between gasps. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?!”

“That’s not the point!” you cried, peeking at him from behind your fingers with a tear-streaked face. “I was doing so good today! I felt cute for like, four hours! And now I look like a balloon someone sat on!”

Bakugo slid around the booth so he was next to you, not across. You could feel the heat of his body as he slung one strong arm around your shoulder, still chuckling.

“Babe. You’ve got an actual person growing in you. You’re allowed to look pregnant.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. “You're supposed to.”

“But my face is bloated too,” you sniffled.

He tilted your chin toward him, inspecting you with those sharp red eyes, lips twitching like he was trying so hard not to smirk.

“You look hot,” he said, like it was a fact. “Pregnant. Bloated. Cryin’ in a ramen shop. Still hot.”

You made a pitiful noise and leaned against his shoulder. “You’re just saying that so I won’t cry in public again…”

“Damn right,” he said smugly. “That old man gave me the look last time you sobbed over dumplings.”

“You said they were out of vinegar,” you mumbled.

“They were. That’s not a tragedy, babe.”

“It was to me.”

Bakugo snorted again, and you felt his chest shake with laughter under your cheek. After a moment, he rubbed your back gently and murmured, “C’mon. Let’s get you home and into sweats. You can lay on me like a lumpy cat. I'll even rub your belly.”

You sniffed. “Promise?”

“Swear on my damn life.”

You looked up at him, teary and dramatic. “Even if I fart when you press on it?”

He paused.

“...I’ve fought villains made of literal garbage,” he said flatly. “I think I’ll survive.”

You finally giggled.

[22themoon]

I watched the jjk movie yesterday and is it a crime that I actually love Toji’s dub voice???according to my friend everyone crashed out when it came out because they thought he sounded like a twink but i’ve never really been able to find Toji, personally, really fine UNTIL the dub voice bc ive always watched in sub,, the twink voice made him sound less brawny and now i feel absolutely obsessed with him i need him so bad and i never thought i’d think this

[22themoon]

Can u pretty please write a Pro hero Bakugou x Nanny Fem-reader??? maybe with smut or just fluff u pick? but yeah Tysm!💗😋

18+ ONLY | MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!!

ᯓ★ Bakugo Katsuki X Nanny!Reader

summary: You were hired to care for his daughter—not to fall for the single pro hero who couldn’t take his eyes off you. But Katsuki Bakugo was never one to follow rules. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time before he lost his restraint.

word count: 3,5k

You’ve been working for the Bakugos for about a year now. Honestly? The pay’s decent, and his kid is probably the kindest, sweetest little girl you’ve ever met. Total angel. Makes the job easy most days.

You and Bakugo barely talk, though. Not really. You're just there to watch his kid, keep the place running smooth while he works. But a few months into the job, things shifted a little. He asked if you'd move in—not for him, but for his daughter.

He said it straight, too. Told you he hated coming home late, hated the thought of her being alone or waiting too long. He said it wasn’t fair to her. That she deserved better. So, yeah… he let you move into the house. Just like that.

All for his kid. Or at least, that’s what he told you.

Actually… he’s not as bad as you thought. You used to believe that Pro Hero Dynamight was ruthless—cold, hard to love. You’d seen the way people talked about him back when he was still just a sidekick under Best Jeanist. He had fan girls everywhere.

But then he built his own agency, and that whole image started to fade. Probably because, let’s be honest—he’s allergic to people getting too close. Hates being bothered. Doesn’t fake the nice-guy act.

That was three years ago.

Now, somehow, you’re working in his house. For his daughter. And turns out… he’s not really like how he shows himself to the public. Not all the way.

It started with the small gestures. Like when you’d cook meals or clean the house. Not because anyone asked you to, but because you knew he was tired. No one else was going to do it, and honestly, you didn’t mind. After a while, Katsuki started asking if you’d eaten yet. If you’d rested. You two began sharing these small, normal conversations—quiet, everyday things that didn’t feel like much at first but started to stick.

And yeah… you didn’t exactly stop yourself from assuming he might have an eye on you. Not with the way he looked at you sometimes. Not with how he always seemed to be nearby, like he was aware of where you were without even trying. You wanted that. Wanted him to look. So you tried to impress him. Subtle things—how you handled stuff around the house, how patient you were with Kaori, how much you cared.

Everything you did, for his daughter, for the household, you hoped he’d notice. But somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like just a job.

You fell into the rhythm of their lives so easily, too easily. And before you even realized it, your careful acts of service became second nature. You started treating them like your own. Because getting attached? That’s always been the easiest thing for you to do.

“Mama!! Look, a fairy!!” Kaori jumps up and down with this bright little grin, waving her drawing in front of your face. Her pigtails bounce as she shows it off like it’s the most magical thing in the world. It’s got glitter glue, smudged crayons, messy stars, she even gave the fairy purple wings this time. She calls every beautiful girl a fairy lately. You can’t help but laugh and nod along, your heart full every time she runs to you like this. She’s growing into this creative little firecracker, and you always make sure to hype up every drawing, every scribble, every single thing she makes.

Kaori loves you. A lot. So much that it’s starting to cause problems, mostly with her real mom.

Every time her mother visits, she’s already annoyed before the front door even opens. She doesn’t say anything outright, but you see it in the way her eyes go straight past Kaori and land on you. She never likes when you’re here, and Kaori? She barely reacts to her at all. No hugs. No loud greetings. Nothing that feels like a mother-daughter bond. Just a cold, uncomfortable silence you’ve gotten used to standing awkwardly in the middle of.

Her mom’s a pro hero too. You don’t know the full story about the divorce, no one tells you, and you never ask, but you’ve seen enough to put the pieces together. She barely visits. She doesn’t call often. And when she is here, it’s like she’s playing some forced role she doesn’t even want. You’ve never seen a mom act like that. Not one who genuinely cares. And maybe that’s why Kaori attached herself to you so easily.

Because you do care. You’re the one packing her lunch, brushing her hair, helping her sleep when she’s sick. You’re the one who shows up.

And yeah—Kaori started calling you "Mama" a while ago. It wasn’t something you taught her. It just happened. And her mom hates that. She hates you.

She started showing it more ever since you moved in. Doesn’t even try to hide it anymore. You don’t argue with her, you just keep your distance, but it’s obvious she sees you as some kind of threat. Not just to her daughter—but to Katsuki.

She really believes you’re here to take him away from her.

Which is hilarious, honestly. Because he’s so fucking single it hurts. He’s never touched you. Never even hinted. You’re just the nanny. But apparently, showing up for a kid and living under the same roof is enough to set her off.

Not until today.

Kaori was at her mom's for the weekend. The house felt way too quiet, and for once it was just you and him.

You found him on the couch with his coffee, looking completely relaxed in sweats and an old t-shirt. He actually looked like he hadn't even thought about work today, which was weird for him.

You kept washing dishes, and asked carefully, "Sir, don't you have work today?"

He didn't answer right away. You heard him shift around, take a sip. Then his voice came out rough like it always did. "Nah. Took the day off."

You nodded, not looking at him. "Oh, okay..."

But you knew better. He didn't just randomly take today off. He planned this. He knew his daughter would be gone. Knew it'd just be you two in the house. First time in forever he'd get you alone for a few hours.

Katsuki sank back into the couch, watching you. From where he sat, he could see your shoulders moving as you scrubbed, the way you'd tucked your hair back, the side of your face, that little hum you did without even realizing it.

He liked you. Way more than he should.

And it wasn't just because you were good to his kid. Wasn't just because Kaori started calling you mama a few months back, and you never corrected her. It was everything else too.

How you made this place actually feel like home. The quiet way you moved around. Your soft voice. How you never asked for anything but gave so much. You looked at him like he was Katsuki. Not Dynamight.

"You've been working too hard," he said out of nowhere.

You glanced up for a second. "I don't mind," you said quietly, eyes back on the dishes. "It's the least I can do, sir..."

He made this annoyed sound. "Don't say that. You do way more than you have to."

You smiled a little. "I just want to help."

You didn't see the way he looked at you—like you were everything he'd ever wanted but couldn't have. His eyes were full of longing, his mind constantly wandering to thoughts of you. What would it feel like to hold you close after a long day? To have you waiting for him, to come home to your warmth?

But he was too scared and too proud to tell you how he felt. The fear ate at him, what if someone else saw what he saw in you? What if another man was brave enough to take the chance he couldn't? The thought of losing you to someone else terrified him more than his own cowardice.

So he found the simplest excuse to hear your voice, to keep you close just a little longer. "Why do you still call me 'sir'?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, hoping you'd understand all the things he couldn't say.

Your hands stopped moving in the warm, soapy water, becoming completely still as his words hung in the air between you.

"I..." Your throat felt tight, and you had to swallow before you could continue. "I just feel like it's the right thing to do."

"Even after an entire year?" His voice got even lower. "Even after you made this place your home?"

Heat bloomed across your cheeks and spread down your neck. You gave a small nod, your eyes fixed on the bubbles floating on the water's surface, unable to meet his gaze. "You're still my boss..."

He released a breath that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken words—something between a laugh and a sigh, tinged with frustration and longing. "Is that really all I am to you?"

Your heart stopped. Your fingers gripped the edge of the sink, anchoring yourself as the world seemed to tilt around you.

"Sir...?" The word came out as barely a whisper, fragile and uncertain.

You hadn't heard him move, but suddenly he was there. Right behind you. "Don't call me that," he murmured, voice thick with something deeper. "Not right now."

Your heart starts acting up, and you don’t even know why. Something about this feels different. You can’t tell if he’s flirting or just talking, but it doesn’t feel normal. Not the way he usually talks. It’s too careful, too focused. You try to brush it off, but it’s already messing with your head. You’re overthinking now—because if it is flirting, why now? And if it’s not… why does it feel like it is?

"I don't know what else to call you," you whispered, your voice breaking just a little.

He didn't answer with words. Instead, he stepped closer until his chest almost touched your back—the barest hint of contact that made you feel everything about him. How big he felt behind you. How warm. How steady. And for some reason, that made it harder to think. Harder to breathe right.

“Do you ever look at me,” he whispered, so close it was clear he needed you to hear him as he edged in even closer, “and wonder what it would feel like?"

You froze the moment you heard his voice. It didn’t sound like how he normally talks. It was lower, quieter. Something about it felt different, and it threw you off.

“To be mine?” he added—so quiet now, the words felt like a secret meant only for you.

That’s when you really stopped washing the dishes.

Slowly, tenderly, he reached around you and turned off the faucet. Then he grabbed the nearby towel, gently taking your hands to dry them. He took his time with it. You never realized how soft his hands were, until now, when you finally felt them like this.

You felt safe. Who would’ve thought Katsuki Bakugo could act like this behind closed doors?

Who would’ve thought he’d be this gentle… if he was talking to someone he truly loves?

"I notice everything about you," he murmured. "You keep pretending this place isn’t yours—but you’re the reason it ever felt like home."

What he really meant was:

"You don’t see it… but you are my home. You made this place feel like something I never knew I was missing—until you came."

Slowly, you turned your head just enough to see him over your shoulder.

"And every time I see you in my house..." His hand found the counter beside yours, fingers almost touching. "I can't think about anything else."

“Sir…” you breathed, like you were afraid to give voice to the word.

He leaned in closer, the atmosphere tightening around you like a drawn breath. “Please,” he whispered—raw, desperate. “Call me Katsuki."

And that’s when you finally give in.

You reach for him, your fingers brush his jaw, and then you’re kissing him. Katsuki doesn’t hesitate for even a second. The second your lips touch his, he grabs the back of your neck and drags you in deeper like he’s been waiting all fucking night for you to make a move.

And twenty minutes pass like a blur..

His fingers gripped your hips tight, dragging your ass back against the thick press of him.

“Been thinking about this for too long,” he muttered, voice low and shaking with restraint. “hah... fuck"

You moaned when he slid his cock between your thighs, dragging the tip slowly across your soaked folds. He was trying to hold himself back, teasing your clit with the head of his cock.

He hissed. “Fuck—wet already?”

You let out a soft moan, really feeling the way he used his cock on you, finally understanding what it felt like to be fucked by the Great Dynamight.

And when he heard that whimper, it drove him wild. He brought his tip to your entrance, circling it slowly, deliberately teasing you, dragging it over your soaked folds before finally pushing in, inch by inch. He groaned low in his throat, savoring the way your walls clenched around him.

You cried out, hands scrambling for the edge of the counter for support. His hand clamped over your mouth almost instantly as he drove deeper into you, the other gripping your waist tight, lifting you slightly, angling your hips just right so he could sink in even deeper.

“Shhh, be quiet,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned over you. “Let me have this, baby."

Then he let go of your waist and gripped the back of your neck, forcing you to stay still, pressed up against the counter, trembling, stuffed full of him.

You squirmed, desperate for friction, your hips twitching for something, but Katsuki beat you to it.

He rolled his hips slowly, grinding into you with a low, filthy growl.

“So fuckin’ needy,” he muttered, lips bithing your ear. “You feel that?” he growled against your ear. “That’s mine. You’re mine now. And I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, you hear me?”

You gasped, your body clenching around him, and he felt it. That alone was enough to flood him with confidence, enough to make him want to fuck you full.

He let out a ragged chuckle, “Oh, you like that.”

He pulled out slow, achingly slow, dragging his cock out until just the swollen head lingered at your entrance, wet and throbbing. You could feel every inch of him leave you, the stretch fading too quickly, replaced by the desperate ache of emptiness.

And then he slammed back in.

Your legs gave out instantly, a choked sound tearing from your throat as your body jolted forward from the sheer force of it. But Katsuki was ready, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, muscles flexing as he held you flush against him.

He didn’t stop.

He pounded into you, the slap of skin on skin loud and filthy, echoing off the walls. Every thrust forced you to feel all of him, thick, hot, dragging along your walls like he was carving himself into your body. His hips drove up hard, unforgiving, grinding deep at the end of each stroke like he wanted to fuck the shape of his cock into your cunt.

But then he started slowing down.

“You want it, don’t you?” he growled into your ear, voice filled with lust. “Want me to knock you up, huh? Walkin’ around with my fuckin’ baby inside you?”

His hips rolled into yours, slow but deep, grinding his cock against your walls like he was already trying to make you feel full. “Want me to fuck you so good you get pregnant on the first try, yeah?”

Your mouth parted, maybe to argue, maybe to beg, but all that came out were soft, broken moans. Useless little sounds that made his cock twitch inside you. He groaned, loud and possessive, gripping your waist tighter like he could shove himself even deeper if he tried hard enough.

“You wanna be a real mommy now?” he hissed, his pace suddenly picking up again. His thrusts grew harder, faster, each one knocking the breath from your lungs. “You want a kid with me? Want me to fuck a whole family into you?”

You didn’t answer fast enough.

So he slid his hand down between your legs without mercy, two fingers finding your clit and circling it rough and fast. The jolt of pleasure was blinding—you screamed, back arching as your body tightened around his cock.

“There it is,” he muttered darkly, his mouth against your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “There’s that fuckin’ mouth. Use it.”

“K-Katsuki—” you gasped, barely able to speak through the pleasure building between your thighs. “I—”

He slammed into you again, making you cry out.

“Yeah?” he snarled, snapping his hips. “You gonna give me a baby? Gonna let me fuck you full and keep you here?"

You couldn’t speak. Your mouth was open, but no words came out, just broken gasps and helpless moans. You were too busy feeling the way his cock stretched you open.

Every vein along his shaft rubbed against your insides, hitting spots you didn’t even know were there. Your pussy clenched around him again, tight and greedy, and he growled behind you.

“You feel that?” he snarled, “That’s where I’m gonna fuckin’ finish right in this tight fuckin’ pussy.”

You moaned. Helpless. Your body moved with his on instinct, trying to meet every thrust even as your legs threatened to give out.

“You want it dirty?” he growled. “You want me to fuck you in every room of this house?"

You whimpered, not in fear, but because the thought of him filling you up like that didn’t disgust you. It made your walls clamp down around him hard. You wanted it.

“You’re filthy,” he hissed through his teeth, as his hips snapped into you. “And you’re mine.”

His hand left your hip just long enough to yank your shirt up and over your head, then shoved your bra down, letting your tits bounce free. He groaned when he saw them, immediately grabbing a handful in each palm, squeezing them roughly like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to worship them or ruin them. He rolled your nipples between his fingers, then pinched one hard.

Your back arched. His body pressed flush against yours from behind, skin slick with sweat, muscles flexing as he drove into you with hard, hungry thrusts.

“Keep moanin’ like that,” he growled into your neck, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Fuck—this pussy’s squeezin’ me so fuckin’ good.”

You could barely breathe. Each slam of his hips shoved you forward against the counter, the slap of skin on skin filthy and wet. He bit your shoulder while his cock dragged against your inner walls, spreading you wide with every punishing thrust.

Your legs were shaking, your hands slipping on the edge of the counter. And when you came, you screamed into the crook of your arm, vision whiting out as your cunt clenched and fluttered around him.

But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down.

“We’re not done,” he muttered, voice wrecked, grip bruising on your hips as he kept pounding into your oversensitive cunt. “I’m not fuckin’ done with you.”

You were limp, boneless, trembling all over, but he held you up, kept you locked on his cock like he refused to pull out. He fucked you through the aftershocks, through the trembling and overstimulation, until your eyes were glassy and your moans turned into soft, broken whimpers.

Then, without warning, he lifted you like you weighed nothing. Turned you around and sat you on the edge of the counter, his body between your legs before you could even catch your breath. He grabbed behind your knees, spread you wide open, and slid back inside with a groan, so deep and smooth it knocked your head back.

“Look at me,” he panted, cupping your face with one hand. “Eyes on me while I cum inside you.”

You met his gaze, dazed, soaked, and completely ruined. Your chest heaved with every breath. Your cunt throbbed with every deep drag of his cock. He kissed you, messy and open-mouthed, tongue sliding against yours as he fucked up into you over and over again. Hard. Deep. Intentional.

“You’re gonna take it,” he whispered against your lips. “Gonna give you my babies, my good girl.”

You nodded fast and desperate, He groaned, low and broken, and then his rhythm fell apart. His hips stuttered and jerked as he buried himself as deep as he could go, cock twitching inside you while he came hard, filling you up to the brim.

And still… he didn’t pull away.

He stayed there, deep inside you, panting against your mouth. Arms wrapped around your waist. Then, softer… quieter… he kissed you again.

“You’re not just some nanny, y’know,” he muttered, nose brushing yours. “I don’t… I didn’t want one.”

You blinked up at him, lips parted, too dazed to speak.

His hand stroked your cheek. “I just… wanted you. Didn’t know how to say it ‘til now.”

Your heart cracked open at that, not from shock, but from the rawness in his voice. The way it didn’t sound like Dynamight at all. Just Katsuki.

[22themoon]

ꜰʀᴀᴛ!ʙᴏʏ ᴇʀᴇɴ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴꜱ

Eren is the guy on campus. Everyone knows his name — not just because he’s loud and stupidly attractive, but because he’s been in three fights, dated the council president for a week, and once got caught sneaking into the campus pool at 3 a.m. He’s chaos. But magnetic chaos.

He’s cocky. Always has been. It drips off his words, slouches in his walk, and curls at the corner of his mouth when he smirks. He’s got that sharp, boyish charm that makes people hate him—until he opens his mouth and suddenly they’re in love.

But under all the fratboy posturing, he’s smart. Not just “gets good grades” smart, but clever, strategic. His major is something deceptively intense like Bio or PoliSci, and even though he never seems to study, he pulls off A’s and professors actually like him. When you ask him how the hell he passed an exam he barely prepped for, he just shrugs, “I don’t know, babe. I’m a genius or whatever.”

He lives in a apartment that’s a little too gross. His room is better, only because you yelled at him to clean it more than once. There’s a gaming setup in the corner, some cracked Red Bull cans, a wrinkled poster of Travis Scott on the wall, and a suspicious stain on the carpet he won’t talk about.

Eren has no filter. He’ll say shit like, “You trying to sit on my lap or are you just clumsy?” “Damn, that skirt is illegal. I should call campus security. Or just bend you over in the hallway.” “You really gonna act like you don’t miss me when I’m not around? Cap.”

He lives in sweatpants or ripped jeans. Half the time his shirt is off. The rest of the time? A hoodie that smells like weed, laundry detergent, and that woodsy cologne he’s way too generous with.

At parties, he’s either leading beer pong like it’s a sport, doing body shots off someone’s stomach, or sitting in a kitchen corner with you on his lap, whispering something nasty in your ear with a hand on your thigh.

Everyone knows you’re his. He makes it obvious — not because he’s insecure, but because he wants people to know. Will literally wrap an arm around your waist while glaring at a guy who looked a little too long.

Sometimes, when he’s drunk and clingy, he’ll tug you into his room, fall back on his bed with a grunt, and say, “Just stay. Fuck whoever’s downstairs. Wanna sleep with you tonight.”

He always touches you in public. Not necessarily in a sexual way—though that happens too, but in this unconscious, possessive, always-reaching-for-you kind of way. Pinky brushing yours. Hand gripping the back of your neck. Arm slung low across your hips.

If you ever wear his hoodie to class or post a selfie in it, he reposts it instantly with something like: “mine. don’t touch.”

ɴꜱꜰᴡ

Eren in bed is a menace. His stamina is ridiculous, and he’s not quiet. He groans, pants, swears under his breath. Loves it messy. Loves when you scratch at his back, tug on his chain, or scream his name like it’s the only word you know.

Backwards cap. Gray sweatpants. Hands under your thighs. He’s got you pinned to the wall, hips grinding slow and deep while his breath fans your ear.

His mouth is filthy. Expect shit like,“You like getting fucked by me, huh?” “This pussy’s too good. Gonna have me failing my midterms.” “Louder. Let ‘em hear who’s making you cum.”

He’s the type to record sometimes — just short, cropped videos on his phone of your face when he’s got you moaning. But only for him. No one else sees them. He jerks off to them when he misses you. Once got caught by Jean and didn’t even care.

Favorite positions? Doggystyle against the bathroom sink during a party. Missionary when he’s trying to ruin you emotionally. Cowgirl when he’s feeling lazy or smug.

If someone flirts with you? Expect to be fucked dumb later. Hair pulling. Hand around your throat. Voice rough and pissed, “You smile at him like that again, I’ll fuck you in front of him. I swear.” “This pussy’s mine. Say it. Louder.”

He finishes on your stomach, on your thighs, on your tits, anywhere that makes a mess. He watches it drip and smirks like you’re art.

But he’s soft after. Gently wipes you down with a towel. Kisses your cheeks, rubs his thumb over your hip like he’s grounding himself. Pulls you into his chest and mutters, “You’re everything, you know that? Fuck all the other bullshit.”

ᴛᴇxᴛꜱ

"come over. m cooking." (He is not. He has UberEats open.)

"wear that little black thing. u know the one."

"u still mad? come sit on my face n we’ll talk abt it."

Sends you thirst traps in mirror selfies with his hand down his pants and the message, “this all yours btw. don’t forget.”

ʙᴏɴᴜꜱ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ꜱʜɪᴛ

Eren keeps a photo of you in his wallet. He won’t admit it — but you saw it once, folded behind his fake ID.

When he’s hungover, he’s the clingiest bitch alive. Head in your lap. Whining. Pouting. “Baby, my head hurts. Kiss it better. No, for real. Right here.”

He secretly keeps one of your hair ties on his wrist. He acts like it’s just convenient, like, “you always lose yours, so whatever,” but he never takes it off.

He has a “you” playlist on Spotify — and it’s embarrassingly soft. It’s all slow, sad indie songs, old R&B, and random acoustic covers. The title is something vague like “4am shit” or “whatever” so the boys wont open it.

He talks about your future when he thinks you’re asleep. You’ll be curled up in his bed, face tucked into his chest, and he’s just barely tipsy. "Gonna get you out of this shitty town one day.” “Bet you’d look hot pregnant.” “Wanna wake up next to you forever.”

taglist: @lvstyangel @alebrasil0101 @creati-bunny @porcelain-soupspoon4 @r4td0lll @wedypopcytragedy @nxcxllxsevens @levkuna @glads-stuff @bnbaochauuu @maskedbunni

©ackermanrage - please do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work!

[22themoon]

IM SORRY IM A FRAUD I CANT DO THESE WEEKLY FUCJING UPDATES IM SO INCONSISTENT 😔😔😔😔😔😔

[22themoon]

This gorgeous beautiful man who reminds me of Bakugo (how he acts not really looks) saw me in the library with one of my friends and it looked like we were on some makeshift study date SO HE KEPT ON LOOKING AT ME SMILING KNOWINGLY AND LAUGHING TO HIMSELF

He mouthed ‘game’ to me with the most majestic grin then SAID TO BOTH OF US BEFORE HE LEFT “Have fun guys”

Hes acc so beautiful im gonna tweak out

He was literally shipping me with someone else its just— he never looks so mischievous and silly and sentient

he was looking at me like i wasnt a stranger and that was enough to make me want to fucking explode on the spot

It just felt so Bakugo of him to make it so fucking awkward,, like if Bakugo had a secret crush on you and would pretend to not care about u with other guys but would find a way to bother you about it😵

[22themoon]

You And I

Eren x reader - College!AU

CHAPTER INDEX -

New Chapters every Sunday

Prologue

Beautiful Probability

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[22themoon]

You and I

Eren x reader - College!AU

CHAPTER 1

Beautiful probability

previous cht. - next cht.

Planning on Weekly updates, maybe more often depending on my mood! Notes at the end explaining the whole you/I situation if you’re confused, please enjoy <3

Available on Ao3

You and I had planned to meet up, excited to celebrate my getting into Paradis University. My head and hands burnt in the bitter frost as I strolled under the grey sky, my mind wandering for places to go as I still had a good hour before we were to meet. I thought there’s no harm in exploring the campus? I come up to the campus library, and I pause, taking a minute to embrace the grandness. Beautiful rock pillars— this whole campus must be so old in all its glory, mini statues of Ymir’s angels sleeping on each side of the entrance as I step up the bright stone steps.

The building gifted me an immediate gust of warmth and so I made a quick movement to remove my jacket and embrace the privilege of no longer shivering. Despite lectures not yet having started— it was surprising to see the library so busy.

Exploring further inside, my eyes wander along the bold ceiling, the high windows that trace the walls as the daylight pours in and leaks down upon the, almost regal, staircase leading upstairs. I look around and try to find a nice spot to sit at, my eyes darting to the small circle table closest to me but soon notice the work thrown a strewn the surface and I quickly avert to avoid eye contact with three people sitting there.

Growing a little awkward lingering, I move to leave before catching a look at one of the heads at that table.

I replay the image in my head as I walk away, and recall the back of that familiar brunette bun.

That was definitely him.

I recall how I haven’t seen him since and so I pity the fact that the whole bottom floor had no free spaces after making my way around. Nowhere I can sit remotely close to him and increase the chance of another encounter. I can’t help but wonder if he’d approach me again— no, he wouldn’t have even seen me if I was behind him. I can’t help but wonder what his name is? Is he in his second year? He must be if he’s so comfy in the area. No but then maybe he’s a third year? I don’t know. Something in me says that it doesn’t matter anyway, I’ll definitely see him again… although where is a different question. But he lives in my accommodation after all.

Nevermind I’m just thinking too much— shit, I need to find somewhere to sit. Upstairs might be nicer anyway. I circle back to the stairs but note that his table is right near the railing and so I make extra effort to be out of anyone’s obvious sight in case one of his friends saw me enter and then it’s awkward.

I look down and admire the preen designs of the hand’s railings and make my way up the stairs. I look at the magnificent constellations that grace the wood, admiring, yes, but at the same time I feel eyes heavy on my back. Or maybe I just hope there are eyes heavy on my back. Fuck, those eyes . Yeah, no. I’m already nearing the end of these railings. I doubt he can even see me anymore.

“Hi,” I hear that unfeigned voice again.

My head whips around as my eyes meet the green, maybe I thought so hard about him he could hear me. Shit don’t freeze up again.

“Oh- hi, I didn’t see you” I say, drinking him in again. I hadn’t even thought of him since I moved in, only until I had noticed him here, but it’s like my body can’t help this reaction. What even is this reaction?

“Sorry, are.. um you looking for a spot?” He says a hand shuffling to sit in his pockets. Cute.

“Yeah, I was gonna look upstairs.”

“Oh, don’t bother. The library gets really full these days,” he shrugs “It’s only the start of the semester but, for most of the second and third years, it’s mock season”.

I blink a little and take a break from his consuming eye contact, where should I try to wait for you instead then? I could still explore elsewhere, maybe there’s a cafe-

“You can sit with me.”

My eyes return to the brunette, taken aback a little, my limbs growing anxious.

“Sorry, me and my friends I meant… there’s a free chair if you’d like.” He’s quick to follow up. His other hand comes up to similarly move in his pocket. He seems the same as last time. Like I can see him right now, how fidgety he was in my doorway, afraid to come any closer. But this time he looks like he almost wants to come closer. Well he is literally asking me to sit with him. Wait, I need to actually reply.

“Okay cool. And don’t worry they won’t mind, we’re not really working anyway.” he says in a playful tone, walking back down the steps already. What? Fuck I already said yes. I need to get out of my head.

We reach the table as his friends notice me. “This is Armin, and Armin this is…” his green eyes moved back to me. Shit what’s his name? I tell them my name and notice the mental note he just made in that we haven’t exchanged names until now, he then introduces me as well to the last person on the table. A girl. He has a girlfriend, I shouldn’t have thought all of this so mindlessly. Her name is Mikasa. I feel a little stupid but it doesn’t hurt to make friends anyway. They shuffle to make room for me as I sit. “I hope I’m not bothering you guys.” I say but both Mikasa and Armin are quick to shut that down.

I notice Armin’s angular glasses that frame his blue eyes. He has shoulder length hair like him except it’s blonde. Armin’s notably paler than Mikasa, her neck adorned with beautiful black beads and shining chains as she has her charcoal hair up in two cute buns. Much neater than her boyfriend’s man bun.

“Oh please. You’re definitely not bothering us,” she dismisses.

“We’ve been getting bored actually, it’s nice Eren’s brought a friend”

“Ah. Eren ,” I say aloud nodding, I say it a few more times mentally. Liking how the name felt coming out of my mouth.

“Yeah I forgot to introduce myself.” He says chuckling to himself, he smiles and laughs a little, effortlessly, his hand pushing one of those baby hairs out of the green.

“Eren, what? She doesn’t even know you?” The blonde is quick to say, “You can’t just pull any poor girl up to here”.

“Sorry, he’s a bit rude,” Mikasa says with playful but genuine eyes, “Did you have somewhere to be? You don’t have to stay here, don't let us keep you.”

I laugh a little at how quick his friends are to, one, throw him under the bus, and two, be so nice and natural. Definitely sweet people he’s friends with.

“Don’t worry at all, I’ve got time to waste.” I say, still laughing a little, “I’m supposed to meet up with my friend in a while so, yeah.”

“Okay, good because we are so bored.” Armin says as both Mikasa and Eren knowingly snicker in agreement.

“Just for the record,” Eren starts, “She is not some poor, random girl. I ran into her not too long ago, she’s in my accom.” His friends ease a little more into their seats understanding the story a little better. “Okay… just blink twice if you need help.” Mikasa teases. She seems so friendly considering I’d probably be a little off-standish if my boyfriend pulled basically a stranger to sit with us. Let alone a girl.

A red phone starts to buzz on the table, the ringtone echoing in the library.

“Damn, that’s loud.” Mikasa moves to answer it quickly, “Hi, you okay?”.

“Is that our driver ?” Armin whispers and Mikasa gives him a small nod. Driver ? Okay, well, maybe they’re rich or something. He begins to move his stuff off the table as Mikasa continues to take the call, “You’re outside? Okay, we’re coming.” She says soon ending the call and packing up her stuff too. “I’m so sorry. Me and my boyfriend are supposed to go somewhere but we’re dropping Armin off on the way,” She says towards me, “Hopefully we see you again.”

“Of course, don’t mind it! Have fun out though!”. I look back down, a little defeated that they’re all leaving so soon. Mikasa and Armin are already standing but I find Eren’s eyes looking at me already as he stays sat. The two wave goodbye to me as I wave back in confusion. “Aren’t you going with them?” I question him. “What?” He says, shuffling again in his seat, “Oh, no. Armin’s got a robotics society thing, not really my scene.” He chuckles.

“Aren’t… aren’t you and Mikasa supposed to go somewhere? She just sai-“

“Oh.. oh no. No. No. Mikasa’s my sister,” he enunciates clearly, with comedic fear in his eyes, “that was her boyfriend just now, calling her.”

I can’t take time to understand what that new information made me feel, relief? I’m not sure, but I’m okay all the same. “Oh my God okay, I don’t know why I just thought-, Armin said driver ?” I can’t help but laugh as his hand moves those baby hairs again while laughing too, “That’s just what he calls everyone, since he can’t drive he always needs a lift.” His teeth flash that boyish grin but goes away just as quick. I like his smile. I wanna see it again I think to myself.

Notes:

I'm sorry if the you and I pronouns are really confusing but just to clarify, the plan for this fic is two plot lines- one with Eren obviously and another with surprise: Jean!! So in a sense there are two readers? You and I. Therefore you can kind of choose which plot line/reader you want to be but You and I are written as friends. 2 different existing people.

If you want to follow along with Eren, then you should take the perspective of the I's which is what has happened so far. But when the plotline with Jean begins (Which is very soon) then follow the you perspective (i.e how x readers are typically written like "you went to this place" or "he said to you" etc etc.

I hope it's not too confusing, just think of me(author) as the other person in the other plotline and it's like I'm telling you or you're telling me this story and we can even be friends :p

[22themoon]

Bakugo is definitely the kinda guy that reaches his hand out from behind and wave his fingers at you to grab him before you both walk through a crowd .

It’s pretty attractive seeing it for some reason, his bracelets only complimenting his big and veiny forearm, with a couple rings to top it off.

He doesn’t ever need to look back either, he knows it will get your attention, and when it does he can practically HEAR your smile once your take hold of him. Giving his bicep a squeeze too while he kisses the top of your head.

You get so gitty to take his hand, you felt like a little kid grabbing some candy.

And Bakugo loved it.

[22themoon]

You and I

Eren x reader - College!AU

PROLOGUE

next cht.

Hoping you enjoy the start to this series, very self indulgent and also heavily planned side plots for me and my friend but i won’t spoil how that comes into play <3 enjoy! I plan to update here and Ao3 simultaneously.

Available on Ao3

Thursday 3:33 AM

|Me

So game plan is

I go to paradis

I invite you for a night iut

Where we both drink a lot

And he happen ti be there

Then i push u guys together

And leave with dreamy frat boy from paradis

|You

LMFAO

|Me

And u guys get together

But we wait until hes very drunk

Maybe we can get my dreamy frat boy in on it

And make him befriend him

To make sure hes drunk enough

|You

okay i fw this plan

|Me

Also I am 10% joking abt this plan

|You

0% joking about this plan

“It’s so fucking warm.” I mutter under my breath, sweat collecting underneath my jacket as I lug my suitcase up the old rickety staircase. The beautiful medieval architecture of Paradis is one to admire but that antique charm threatened to wear off after all of my things had to be dragged up 3 floors with no elevator.

My arms grow weaker as the heat compiling within holds a stark contrast to the bruising cold of my exposed hands. I pause outside of the grand double doors to my accomodation, staring blankly at the flowering designs carved into its panels as I pant. Scrunching my eyes I mentally prepare myself to roll the very last boulder up this goddamn hill. I reach out to the petals of the door but another hand presses before I can.

“This is yours, right?”

Deep emerald eyes slowly blink where small, framing strands hang, soft brunette locks tangle atop into a bun and fall down to caress broad shoulders. Shoulders encased in a black fleece as I notice lips moving but hear no sound until those eyes come a little closer.

“-- is it...?”

I rapidly blink my own eyes and swallow. “Sorry?” I finally got out as all those beautiful features came clear.

“I just– I saw you bring up that suitcase,” my eyes shot to the box full of my room decor that he’s carrying like it weighs nothing, “I just assumed this box was part of your stuff.”

“Oh… um yeah that is mine.”

“Sorry I just saw you looked kind of tired– thought I’d help if this is the last of it?” He gives a polite smile, back still holding the door open slightly.

“Yeah it is, thanks for the help I was just thinking about how sick I am of moving in my things.”

He moves back to open the door wider for me to pass through first and he follows suit, placing the final box at the entrance to my room. I notice his eyes dart around my blank room, hands awkwardly at his sides like he’s afraid to get too close.

“Well.. um, good luck with the rest of you moving in.” he says, a hand coming up to go into his pocket as he takes a deep breath. Those eyes, this time, move to my face. Looking a little too attentive.

“Don’t worry I’m on the floor above you, you looked kind of startled. I was just going up to open my room, I hope I didn’t scare you.”

I lightly snicker at his nervousness, maybe at my own as-well, it was odd to see such a tall guy seem even slightly skittish like this. And it’s not everyday a man as gorgeous as this spontaneously swoops in.

“No, I was just relieved. Thank you again– so much.” I reply with sincerity.

“Of course. I’m gonna get to my room now,” He grins now, evidently relieved that I don’t seem creeped out, “maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah you might.” I smile back as he moves off my door frame and leaves my peripheral sight.

Next cht.