#The Naked Spur

[onefootin1941]

[clemsfilmdiary]

The Naked Spur (1953, Anthony Mann)

12/27/23

[lajoiedefrancoise]

The Naked Spur (1953)

[onihcinimkcin]

[pacingmusings]

Seen in 2023:

The Naked Spur (Anthony Mann), 1953

[musicandoldmovies]

Janet Leigh in The Naked Spur

[jasonsutekh]

The Naked Spur (1953)

A cynical bounty hunter tracks down a criminal and, with the aid of two new allies, subdues him. However the two strangers learn of the reward and insist on accompanying him to get their cut.

There are the usual qualities of 50s era Westerns such as vibrant colour that juxtapose each other well and the scenery which is expansive but varied. There are a few small moments that foreshadow character developments and help keep the audience engaged but the most interesting aspect is the psychological warfare between the characters and the methods they use to cause doubt in each other.

None of the characters are really deserving of any happy ending, acting entirely on impulses or pragmatism instead of ethics. Much of the time they act as savages with heavier weapons but the narrative warps this perception to show their barbarism as part of the patriotic pioneering of the time in which the film is set.

The focus is largely kept on the greed each character has and what grows or maintains it, in particular the oldest companion who appears almost redeemable at times but falls back on avarice. The elements contrast the crimes and dishonour of the characters by supplying constant common obstacles that they could unite to overcome but instead ends up injuring them due to their lack of cooperation.

As usual Native Americans are portrayed in a reductive and insulting light, treated almost as another elemental threat that has to be dealt with incidentally with less compassion than was shown the horse. In the end it didn’t feel like closure was possible, much less deserved, especially considering any last minute options to do good had to happen over a pile of corpses.

3/10 -This one’s bad but it’s got some good in it, just there-

[woman-with-a-movie-camera]

The Naked Spur (1953)

[streamondemand]

'The Naked Spur' – James Stewart hunts Robert Ryan on Criterion Channel

The westerns that James Stewart made with director Anthony Mann in the 1950s infused the genre with a psychological intensity and psychopathic edge and brutal The Naked Spur (1953), their third collaboration, may be their best. Stewart is the hard, angry bounty hunter Howard Kemp tracking outlaw Ben Vandergroat (Robert Ryan) through the deceptively beautiful mountain wilderness of the Midwest.…

[svenslave]

Wonderful boots, wonderful whip, wonderful Mistress. He is a lucky slave - if he can take it!!

[klauztrooph]

It's been ages since I played Magic and I never posted about it I have to brake the silence. Why do this centaur has spurs? Does he ride a bigger horse? Or he just felt pretty?

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Beneath a Dragon's Gaze

Summary: With Madame Sylvi indisposed on the evening Prince Aemond comes to visit, he requests someone different | Word Count: 1.7k~ | Warnings: sex work, smut, hair pulling, biting, titty sucking, darkish Aemond

A/N: saw ep 3 and felt silly 😁 not proofread an inch

“The Prince has asked for you.”

She could not help the wide-eyed look and the familiar flipping of her stomach, now feeling entirely different with the words that had come from her fellow woman’s lips. The Prince. Well, it could have meant either of them only weeks before, but no longer. They frequented this establishment quite often, as an upper-class brothel, with only the finest whores and service, it was only natural, and they had the coin to pay for it.

Suddenly, she felt quite cold in the sheer dress she had chosen that evening, doing very little to conceal the flesh that hid beneath, her nipples having formed peaks against the satin. What could she possibly say to that? There was no possibility of refusing. 

“Very well,” she responded, knowing it was not her place to question. There was no question as to which now, it was most certainly the very same who frequented for the warm embrace and soothing voice of Madame Sylvi, who spent hours in her company and paid her a hefty price for it. For secrecy. But she knew just as well that the only reason Aemond had requested her instead, was because on this night, his usual appointment was indisposed. 

Her heart raced as she slalomed through the scantily clad crowd, each step bringing her closer to the corner where the prince awaited. The halls were dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows that danced along the walls, alongside those of curved figures, twisted with pleasure. She could hear the muted sounds of such from the other rooms, but they did little to quell the nervousness that gripped her.

When she reached the curtain, she paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The Prince. Aemond Targaryen. Known for his fierce demeanour and sharp intellect, he was not a man to be trifled with. Yet, beneath that cold exterior, she had heard whispers of a man burdened by the weight of his family.

Sliding the curtain across, met with the Prince, eyepatch already discarded and down only to his breeches, sat with cup in hand on the plush settee, his lone eye raising to her as she dipped for a curtsy. She felt her throat close at the sight of the sapphire, somewhat mirroring what was happening between her thighs.

"Madame Sylvi sends her apologies, my prince. She is unable to attend to you this evening."

Aemond's gaze lingered on her for a moment, and she felt her cheeks flush under his scrutiny. "I did not call for Sylvi tonight," he said finally, his tone giving nothing away. "I called for you."

Her lips parted to question. But she dare not let the words free. She was not one to ask about his intentions, a mere whore.

“Undress.”

The Prince’s eye never wavered as he watched, flesh revealed as she bared herself to him. He stood as if uncurling himself, finishing what was left in his cup before moving his hands to unlace his breeches, his head gesturing to the settee.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

His commanding tone made those flutters awaken once more. She had been employed at this establishment for so long, of course being naked and bared to an abundance of men was second nature. But there was something about the way he wanted her, the way it seemed not spurred by desire of any kind, but a need, like air, that ignited her nerves that she had not felt since her first few days in this line of work.

Still, bare arsed and exposed to a Prince, was a different matter entirely.

She felt his presence behind her, knowing he was naked as his thighs brushed against hers. He nudged her knees apart and pushed gently on her spine, encouraging her to arch her back. Though she could not see his face, the rippled design of the copper in front of her reflected enough for her to sense the detachment in his actions. So, she remained silent.

Prince Aemond guided himself to her centre, barely wet, and pushed his cockhead inside. He had barely breached her when his hands gripped the flesh of her buttocks, watching intently as his cock slowly slid deeper into her cunt, being swallowed by her body. She closed her eyes, the lack of preparation making the act more uncomfortable than pleasurable, but she hoped that with time, her arousal would ease the discomfort.

As Prince Aemond continued to push himself inside her, she focused on her breathing, trying to relax her body and ease the discomfort. The room was silent except for their breaths, the flickering candlelight casting shadows that danced on the walls. Each inch he gained felt like a stretch, a challenge to her body's readiness, but she bit her lip, determined to endure.

His hands, firm on her buttocks, began to knead her flesh, his grip alternating between gentle caresses and possessive squeezes. The friction built steadily, her body slowly acclimating to his presence. The initial pain started to fade, replaced by a growing warmth and the stirrings of pleasure.

Aemond moved with a deliberate pace, his thrusts measured and controlled. He seemed intent on watching every inch of his cock as it disappeared inside her, his breathing heavy and laboured. She could feel his intensity, the way he held back his own urges to maintain that slow, torturous rhythm.

Despite the initial discomfort, her arousal began to build. Her body responded to his movements, her inner walls slickening and accommodating his length with increasing ease. Soft moans escaped her lips, unbidden but honest, as pleasure began to mix with the remnants of pain.

Aemond's hands slid from her buttocks to her hips, pulling her back against him with each thrust. The new angle allowed him to go deeper, hitting spots inside her that sent jolts of pleasure through her body. Her fingers clenched the sheets beneath her, seeking some anchor as the sensations intensified.

He leaned forward, his breath hot against her ear. "Do you feel that?" he murmured, his voice husky and edged with restraint. "Do you feel how you take me in?"

"Yes, my prince," she gasped, her voice trembling with the effort to maintain composure. "I feel it."

Aemond's pace quickened slightly, his control slipping as his own desire took precedence. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, a rhythmic, primal music that spoke of need and release. Her moans grew louder, her body arching and pushing to meet his thrusts, seeking the pleasure that now consumed her.

With a sudden, possessive grip, Aemond's hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck. His lips found her skin, teeth grazing lightly before he bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to claim. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine, her body responding with an involuntary clench around his cock.

He groaned against her neck, the sound vibrating through her. "Take me, all of me," he whispered, his voice filled with approval and satisfaction. 

She surrendered to the sensations, her body melting into his as pleasure overwhelmed her. Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word from Aemond drove her closer to the edge. The discomfort was a distant memory now, replaced by a wave of ecstasy that built with each passing second. His movements so erratic, his stones clapped against her womanhood with every harsh push, slapping against her bud in a steady, unyielding rhythm.

The sensation pushed her over the edge, her own climax washing over her in a powerful, all-consuming wave. She cried out, her body convulsing around him, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Finally, with a deep, guttural moan, Aemond drove himself to the hilt inside her once more, his body shuddering and then withdrawing quickly as he found his release and coated her buttocks and thighs with his pearly spend.

They stayed like that for a moment, both catching their breath, their bodies still joined. Slowly, Aemond released his grip on her hair and hips, his hands soothing over the marks he'd left. He pulled out of her velvety walls gently, leaving her feeling both spent and fulfilled.

She expected him to leave, to gather his clothes and slip away into the night, as most men often do with a flick of their coin into her lap. But instead, Aemond surprised her. He curled into her body, his head resting against her chest. His lips found her breast, mouthing at her skin with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of their earlier encounter. His hand moved to her other breast, caressing it with a gentle, almost reverent touch.

She looked down at him, her fingers threading through his silver, moonlit hair. He seemed to take more pleasure in this simple intimacy than she did, as if seeking comfort rather than mere satisfaction. His eyes were closed, his breathing steadying as he continued to nuzzle her chest.

"I hate it," he murmured after a long silence, his voice muffled against her skin.

She blinked, unsure of his meaning. "Hate what, my prince?"

Aemond shifted slightly, his hand stilling on her breast. "Sometimes, I think Madame Sylvi just says anything to appease me. She tells me what she thinks I want to hear, not what she truly believes."

There was a bitterness in his tone that caught her off guard. "Why do you think that?" she asked softly, her thumb stroking the back of his neck.

Aemond's grip on her breast tightened slightly, and she felt a shiver of unease. His lips brushed against her nipple, then his teeth grazed it, sending a jolt through her body. "Because it's easier for her," he said, his voice lower, more dangerous. "Because I'm a prince, and she fears offending me."

She gasped softly at the sensation, the mix of pleasure and pain reminding her of the precarious balance between comfort and control. "But you deserve honesty, my prince," she managed to say, her voice trembling.

He bit down a little harder, enough to make her wince. "Do I?" he asked, his tone a warning. "Or do I deserve the truth, no matter how it feels?"

Her heart raced, the threat in his words unmistakable. "The truth, my prince," she whispered, trying to maintain her composure. "Always the truth."

Aemond's teeth released her nipple, his tongue soothing the sting. He looked up at her, his eye fierce and unyielding. The sapphire lodged in the other piercing and dark. 

"Good," he said, his voice a soft growl. "Because I have no patience for lies, no matter how pretty they are."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch

@castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @primonizzutto

@qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince

[thinkinonsense]

ok so i had a thought😏😏 dbf!logan takes ur virginity and from then on u guys hook up whenever u get a chance (all the time). one night he gets done dicking u DOWN and u say u love him and he’s all like “we can’t do this anymore kid” very ANGSTYYY

i love you, i'm sorry- dbf!logan howlett x fem!reader

part two *mdni

"i love you, logan."

four little words that would send your world crumbling before your feet. the older man lifts himself from in between your chest, both of you panting post orgasm. nights like this had become a bad habit for the both of you.

from the moment logan first slipped off your panties in this exact spot a year ago, you had been wanting to tell him how you really felt. you wanted to tell him how you craved his touch when he wasn't around, how you adored the way he took care of you and most importantly, how this didn't feel 'casual' to you anymore.

seconds turned into minutes of silence, desperately waiting for logan to say something; anything.

"lo, are you going to say some-"

"we can't see each other anymore, kid." he says, avoiding eye contact with you as he pulls out.

"what?"

this wasn't real. that's the only sentence that your brain could form as you watch him put his boxers back on. you laid there on his bed, naked, vulnerable, with his cum dripping out of you and he can't even look you in your fucking eyes.

"ya' heard me." logan says, putting a cigar in his mouth and tossing your dress on the bed next to you.

"what happened?" your voice was trembling on the verge of rage and heartbreak.

"i told you a year ago not to bring that 'love shit' in here."

a year ago when he took your virginity. he promised to be gentle and to care for you. guess that didn't extend past sex for him.

you scoff, pulling your sundress over your head. "you didn't say that when you said you love how tight i fit around you or when you said you love how well i know you. was any of that even true?"

logan ignored you as he lit his cigar and waited for you to leave. you stand up and walk over to him, touching his chin and turning to so he's facing you.

"look me in the eyes when you kick me out of your bed." you spit angrily at the man you adored endlessly.

all logan could see was your eyes full of tears and your red puffy lips, trying to keep yourself together. deep down, he knew he deserved all the shit in the world thrown at him for him for breaking your heart. you would never understand why he had to be so cruel but his intentions were never to hurt you like this. it killed him.

"find someone your own age to love, kid." logan says, twisting the knife.

"don't call me kid, logan!" you yell at him. "i'm not a fucking child!"

"then stop acting like one!" his voice boomed back at you, spurring on more tears.

who had he turned into? you couldn't recognize the man in front of you. this wasn't your logan.

"so, you're just going to let me leave like this?" you cry, glaring at him. "give up everything we have all because you're afraid of me loving you?"

you didn't expect an answer, he already shoved your hand away from his face, no longer wanting the image of your broken heart haunting him.

logan wanted to tell you everything, explain why he can't accept your love because it will put you at a greater risks, but logically, logan knows he has to let you go.

"in ten years, when your ass is still sitting drunk on one of my fathers bar stools and he shows you photos of me and a man who can appreciate me for more than sex, a man who can admit he loves me back, you'll remember this moment because this will be the last time you ever fucking see me." you tell him rather calmly as you collect your shoes and purse.

logan watches you do as he asks and leave. if he was a better man, he would have done it differently; but then again, if he was a better man, he never would've fooled around with a twenty-something year old.

the front door slams with a broken sob escaping your lips. from the bedroom, logan could hear your car engine starting and that's when he could allow himself to grieve the life he would've had.

[drgnflyteabox]

mdni - the 141 find a cozy place to stay during an op (that's definitely all that happens). implied fat!reader

(dubcon, poly, gangbang, anal, price is in charge of everyone<3)

So blizzards can happen in the blink of an eye on high, isolated mountains, right?

And the 141 have done missions in rural places, snowy places, mountainous places, right?

And there are tons of tiny little isolated towns, all over the world, built around these mountains for one reason or another - coal mining, logging, etc.

Now imagine the 141 on a mission, somewhere cold, somewhere isolated, a place that feels like the edge of the world. Desolate.

Now imagine the 141 seeing, in the near distance, a winking pale orange light. It's a good enough place as any to approach - it isn't safe to be caught in this blizzard, anyhow. Even with their gear, the safehouse is still an hour away and the snowfall seems historic...

Now imagine you're sitting in your family home, all alone, going a little crazy with cabin fever. Your woodstove is burning hot, but you're still cuddled up in knits and a thermal underneath. You're making stew for dinner with root vegetables from the basement cellar, it's bubbling and softening for you while you crochet, trying to keep your mind off the monumental shoveling task you'll have to deal with tomorrow

Until there's a knock on the door.

"Hello ma'am, I'm just wondering if me and my friends here could rest until it's safe to continue our hike?" (I love the way gaz says ma'am)

Hike? Nobody hikes up here - you've only ever seen a couple tourists in your life, thrill seeking ice climbers who came and went.

And they certainly weren't dressed in snow camo, hiding guns behind their backs.

But you were raised right, and the man at the door has kind eyes - he's handsome, too, but you'd never say it out loud. Gaz pushes the door further in when you tentatively open it, and in comes barreling three more massive men, their boots stomping and leaving a mess.

Soap smells the stew on the stove and beelines for it, lifting his helmet to inhale deeply.

Ghost sweeps the room like it might be hiding an enemy somewhere- even though it's one room total, the stove in the middle, separating the kitchen and your bed.

Price approaches you all apologetic, apologizing for "these ruffians", holding his camo helmet to his gut like it's formalwear. "Apologies, sweetheart, we weren't expecting the weather to turn on us."

You aren't quite sure how you end up sitting on prices lap, naked except for your socks, while he squeezes your stomach and grunts in your ear not to be shy when putting your weight on him. His other hand is cupped over your pussy, murming thank yous for feeding his men.

They're eating your stew, stripped out of gear, cocks tented in their white cargos.

"We're a gaggle of lucky boys, eh?" Soap says. "Nice, cozy, soft girl. Warm cabin. A man could get used to this."

You wind up pressed down on your mattress, hands held behind you by one man while another fucks you hard, spurred on by price behind them. At first, it's johnny, whining high in his throat while price guides his hips and gaz holds your arms by your head. "Need to thank her proper, boy." The obvious authority in prices voice makes your pussy clench around him, and he shakes over you, trying hard not to come too early.

Gaz reaches down from where he's holding your arms, pinching your clit until you buck against Johnny and squirt around him.

Then it's gaz, who lifts your legs and squeezes your big thighs, locking eyes with ghost. He's steady, only breaking composure when Simon praises him. "Thats a lad. Good, just like that, Kyle." He's the first to ever make you come from penetration alone, hips moving in a way that makes your abdomen tighten and tighten and tighten until you reach the longest orgasm of your life, nearly crying with how intense it feels.

Price ends up flipping you over - nudging you up on your hands and knees, the bed creaking with the combined weight of he and his lieutenant taking their places in front and behind you.

Simon slips his cock in your mouth, staring down at you through the balaclava. You can barely make out a thick scar, one that looks like it might go through his whole face. You lose focus when price pushes his fingers in your ass, though, and you squeal.

There's no where to run except further down simons cock, though, where you gag, spit running all down your chest onto the bed.

"Shh, sh," Price rubs your flank like you're a spooked animal. He squeezes the ample flesh of your asscheek appreciatively. "Jus wanna give your poor pussy a break, aye? I reckon she's tired,"

He pushes into you impatiently and it burns a little, but he soothes it with a palm over your soft, sore cunt. Rubs a thumb over your clit slowly, jostling you back and forth over simons cock.

You come once more before the night is over, tears finally running down your cheeks, mixing with your saliva, with simons come. It's a painful orgasm, wrenched from you - but that makes it all the sweeter.

They wipe you down and spoon feed you more stew, after, to recover your energy :') price has the boys tidy their boot tracks and put away leftovers while he and Simon hold you from both sides. They can barely fit with you on your bed, but tucked in like this - on top of your furs, naked as the day you were born, praised for your soft body and "What a good girl you are, babydoll."

Sigh

I'm sure this idea has probably been written but I was listening to this and couldn't stop imagining it lmfao

[cutielando]

Lactation kink with lando to help him sleep🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

lactation | l.n.

warnings!!: lactation kink, nipple play, titty play, sloppy handjob, grinding

my masterlist

He couldn't help it.

During your pregnancy, he couldn't help the awe he felt whenever he felt your breasts in his hands, so swollen and full and ready to feed his child.

He found you insanely sexy even before pregnancy, but imagine what he felt once you were swollen with his child, your curves and beauty even more appealing to him than ever before.

He loved you, every little part of your body, but your breasts would always top the game.

You would often complain about them, saying they were always sore, heavy and swollen.

"Lan, my boobs hurt so much. Can you please help me?"

Absolute music to his ears.

Once you gave birth, the phrase gave him even more of a rush. Because of you breastfeeding your little girl, all of your shirt had wet spots where your nipples were, the excess milk always finding its way to your shirt.

Lando went feral every time he noticed.

He didn't know why he found it so hot, or why it stirred such a reaction out of him. Maybe because it reminded him time and time again that you were the mother of his child, that you gave him the best gift he could have ever received.

"You look tired" he stated one night, coming into your bedroom after he'd put the baby to sleep.

You sighed, running your hands down your face and then putting them on your breasts, who were once again swollen and full.

"I always look tired. Besides, the baby didn't eat all that much tonight so I'm swollen again" you grimaced as you pressed onto your left boob, wincing at the pinch of pain you felt.

Seeing you massaging the boobs that he had become so obsessed with got Lando going, once again. He licked his lips, his jeans gradually straining against his crotch as all the blood traveled down to his cock.

"Want me to help you out?" he asked, and you nodded without a second thought.

You didn't think much of it. In fact, you would be lying if you said the sight of Lando massaging and sucking on your boobs didn't make you wet and craving for him. Your hormones were going crazy when you were near him, whenever he would touch you where you needed him the most, but nothing made you as wet as him sucking the milk out of your boobs did.

"Lay back for me" his husky voice said, quickly working to discard every last piece of clothing from his body.

Your breathing quickened as you watched him get naked right in front of you, your hands unconsciously flying to your shirt, taking it off and throwing it somewhere on the floor next to Lando's clothes.

He slowly stalked over to you and laid down next to you on the bed, his fingertips slowly inching upwards across your body to where you needed him the most.

"So beautiful" he whispered once his hand reached the underside of your boob, leaning down and pressing a kiss to it. "And full" another kiss. "And all mine" you gasped when he wrapped his lips around your hardened nipple, his other hand gravitating towards your other boob, playing with your other nipple as he started sucking on your left one.

You gasped at the sensation of Lando stimulating your nipples, the pleasure coursing through your veins like adrenaline. Nobody had ever made you feel like Lando has, the reactions he got out of your body and the things he could make you feel sometimes made you think you were living a fairytale.

But in moments like this one, with his tongue running over your nipple and his hand twisting and pinching your other one, milk oozing out of your breasts and into his awaiting mouth, you knew you weren't dreaming or imagining anything.

"Oh God" you moaned out quietly, not wanting to risk waking the baby.

Your moans did nothing but spur Lando on, the driver more determined than ever to please you out of your mind. He sucked harder on your nipple, the milk filling his mouth and making him moan out.

He was incredibly hard in that moment, his cock poking at the side of your thigh. With your eyes still closed, you reached out with your hand and wrapped your arms around his rock hard cock, feeling every vein pulsing with need against your hand.

You slowly started pumping his length, using the oozing precum as lube to lather him up. He started sucking you with more drive while you were jerking him off with a passion.

"Please, baby" Lando whimpered out, unlatching from your left nipple for a second before diving in to your right one, his hips now grinding against your hand.

You moaned out at the intense feeling of Lando sucking on your boobs, squeezing his length while pumping it faster and faster.

"Oh God" Lando moaned out all of a sudden, his grip on your boobs tightening as his hips started grinding faster against your hand before he stilled, ropes of cum painting his stomach and your hand.

You both panted, hearts beating out of your chests. Lando slowly let go of your boobs, pressing a kiss to each of them before he fell back on the bed next to you.

"That was amazing" you breathed out, making Lando nod before getting up to go to the bathroom to clean himself up.

Once you finally caught your breath, you found your discarded shirt on the floor and put it on, getting under the covers and waiting for Lando.

A minute later, he emerged from the bathroom, turned off all the lights and got under the covers with you.

"Thank you" you whispered, cuddling up to his warm body and burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"Anything for you, mama" he pressed a kiss on the top of your head, settling in bed and closing his eyes.

You both drifted off into a deep slumber, Lando happy and content as your milk kicked in and allowed him to finally get some rest.

Who knew that was all he needed?

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[sttm99]

Bakugo's girlfriend knows that he's attracted to you. She sees how he looks at you, how his eyes always seem to be drawn to your general direction.

Since she introduced him to you at the beginning of the little barbecue she'd arranged in her backyard, he'd been slightly more distant. He'd been distracted... and just a bit too interested in whatever you had to say.

She sees how he watches you, how he offers to get you both more hotdogs, or something to drink. Or telling that your cheeks and your nose are looking a bit red.

"Is the meat too spicy?" He asks with furrowed brows as he looks at the slight reddening of your face.

She sees how his hands twitch, and she can tell he's holding himself back from touching you with care.

But you laugh it off calmly, "A bit spicy, yeah. But it's fine. Nothing I can't handle." You say.

But he frowns. "I'll reduce the spice in the rest... in case you still want more." He mutters.

Bakugo's girlfriend frowns, knowing that he's never so considerate, especially not to people he'd only just recently met.

And she tries not to hold it against him. You're beautiful. She knows that. She knows that you can get anyone you want, which is why she believes you wouldn't want her Katsuki.

She keeps you away from him afterwards. She doesn't invite you for occasions if she knows he's going to be with her. She doesn't post pictures of you on her socials. She doesn't even mention you anymore.

And he doesn't mention you either. She hopes he's forgotten about you.

He hasn't, though...

He knows it's wrong, but he couldn't help it. You feel so good... soft in all the right places, pretty and pliable.

He grunts as his hands grip unto the flesh of your thighs, palm hooked under your knees as he pistons in and out of you. There's slight perspiration on his forehead, his cheeks are tinted pink, brows furrowed and eyes screwed shut, and harsh, quick grunts spilling from his lips as he fucks into your warmth.

"Fucking beautiful," he hisses as he presses kisses to your neck; soft and quick because you don't want to have to cover up marks.

His phone is buzzing on the desk next to his bed, but he just can't bring himself to care. Not when your back is arching off his bed, your eyes rolling back, and your cunt tightening and spasming around him.

And he's cumming hard and deep inside you, filling you up and then some... choking groans spilling from his lips.

And it's not just the sex too... you're funny and sweet and sarcastic. And you match him so perfectly, allowing him dominate when you want to, but pushing back sometimes, taunting him, spurring him on.

He strokes your cheek as you talk to him, both of you naked in bed, bodies sweaty, but still you smile and speak at him. And he just lays next to you and listens, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.

He's going to break up with his girlfriend when he goes home. Because he's self-aware enough to know he can't go back to her and pretend everything is fine. Not when he'd rather wake up to your rambling every day.