#hero: is begging your kink or something?

[kurooh]

HOT THINGS THEY DO ★ MY HERO ACADEMIA

⊹₊˚. featuring various characters being attractive in and out of the bedroom.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader but a few can be interpreted as gn. mainly suggestive / nsfw hcs

izuku’s eyes are always on yours when he’s listening to you speak—sometimes, in the middle of conversation, he tilts his head to the side. it’s completely unconscious, he’s just really focused on you. +bonus: he twirls his pen around between his fingers when he takes notes and he has such nice hands . . ykwim

in the bedroom, izuku’s open to anything. he welcomes change in the form of new kinks, positions, toys, etc but also doesn’t mind if something doesn’t work out. his willingness to experiment has almost always yielded a positive result and better sex.

katsuki is an amazing driver. safety and making yellow lights are very important to him. he usually drives with one hand, and he throws an arm behind the passenger seat to take a look behind him when he’s backing up. yes, he’s able to use the camera without turning to look back, but he prefers not to for safety. (he likes getting you a little flustered)

katsuki’s easily able to throw you around and manhandle you as much as you like. in addition, he’s got a filthy mouth, so by extension, his dirty talk is excellent. he’s able to fluidly switch between tones and leave you thinking about everything he said even days later.

shōto doesn’t understand why you’re fawning over him when he’s in the middle of working out. after a few sets, he tugs on the hem of his sleeveless shirt and uses it to wipe away the sweat gathered on his forehead. by the time he’s pausing to do so, he’s panting heavily and his abs clench sporadically as he tries to catch his breath. +bonus: sho’s tired and doesn’t gaf about a little mess when he’s sucking down some water, so it always ends up trickling down his chin

when you’re naked and ready for his touch while pinned beneath him, shōto’s easily able to read your body. he’s mapped out the spots that make you tick and committed them to memory; he’s able to figure out what you want and how you want it without you having to say a word.

eijirou often sits back lazily in chairs or on the couch, with his legs comfortably spread. in that position, his thighs always look extra thick and strong. when he catches you staring, he pulls you into his lap with a laugh.

when it comes to fucking eijirou, it’s clear that his pleasure is really yours—he gets off on pleasing you and makes it his top priority always. he’s cum untouched a few times with you sitting on his face or riding it.

denki is always smiling. it’s easy to tell how he’s feeling because he’s so open about it, and he’s also genuinely happy often. even when he’s nervous he tries to hide his little smile !

as often as possible and if the position allows, denki’s right up against your ear and softly making noise while babbling dirty or sweet nothings. he’s not at all shy to make noise and encourages you to do the same.

keigo is naturally protective. in crowded areas, he takes your hand in his and pulls you close while you walk together. if you’re walking around the city at night together after getting tipsy and someone threatening approaches, he steps between you and them while shielding you with his wings.

keigo builds tension perfectly through lengthy kisses and eager touches all over your body. it’s a little torturous for him to fight back the urge to cum when he hears you softly begging him to touch you. he’s shaking when he finally slides in, and his wings fan out uncontrollably; they’re always talking for him when he’s too busy making noise to communicate.

[sugarwarachan]

just me being horny about dabi before noon - mdni

dabi absolutely has a predator/prey kink, and it’s activated when you’re trying to watch tv of all things. he’s rewatching old hero footage again, and you’re begging him to watch something else, anything else, and he’s all, fine brat come and get the remote then, so you put one hand on his leg and lean over, making sure to brush the side of your tit against his shirt, and pluck the remote right out of his hand -

and the bastard fucking smiles, something hungry and filthy that makes your pussy clench.

“you wanna play that game, huh?”

you're scrambling up and throwing the blanket in his face to try and get a headstart. "“guess you’ll just have to catch me first!"

you hear his chuckle as you’re sprinting down the hall. “oh angel, you’re gonna have to run a lot faster than that if you wanna get away from me”

he catches up to you as soon as you round the corner to your bedroom door, forearm looping around your waist and tugging you flush against his chest. you struggle and kick, laughing at the confusing mixture of emotions sweeping through your body. terror and joy and arousal course through you so fast it’s leaving you out of breath.

and dabi?? man is actively trying not to fuck you against the door. he's got you caged in his arms and his dick jumps when you make that little gasp, you can fucking bet that sound's gonna play on a loop every time he fucks his fist now. he can picture how blown out your pupils are, your pretty round cheeks flushed red -

“you like me chasin’ you, dontcha?” he whispers into your ear, like he's not grinding his erection against your ass

a/n: AWOOOGAAAA I might have to make this a one-shot 🤌

[mzzledmutt]

thinking about keigo takami…

cw: fem!reader, vaginal sex, riding, tummy bulge, breeding kink

“pleaseeeee?”

“c’mon pretty girl, can’t keep up?”

keigo can be such a lazy prick during sex. sat back with his arms folded behind his mess of blond hair, sleazy smirk plastered on his tanned skin. he’s able to hold this facade as you beg for his attention, just a simple touch from his fingers.

a pathetic pout and big eyes is usually enough to break the hero but, he ignores you. you fold your arms, hoping to truly convey how upset you were. the blond still paid no mind, a look of waiting on his face.

“ya’ gonna ride my dick, pretty? or do i gotta jerk myself off?”

“why won’t you just fuck me, kei?” you fall onto his chest, crocodile tears slipping down your pudgy cheeks. “cause you’re spoiled,” he pinches your cheeks forcing you to face him. “i’m always the one doing all the work.” your bottom lip wobbles causing him to roll his eyes.

“cut the dramatics. ya’ can’t ride?” you shake your head, as if you were truly helpless. keigo sighs, hands moving to rest upon your hips. he squeezes the chub in his hands, adjusting his grip. “got me doin’ all the work all the time.” you flinched as he effortlessly lifted your body, his thick length nearly leaving the warmth of your walls only for him to drop you back down.

you see stars as he slams into your cervix, a welcomed pain and pleasure fizzling throughout your body. “can’t put those muscles you’ve been working so hard on to use?” - “kei—!”

“that’s right, pretty.” his voice is gruff as he resists the urge to fuck into you, resisting the urge to give you exactly what he wants. “bounce that pretty ass on my dick, dove.” his voice feels distant as his cock repeatedly pounds into your womb, punching a small bulge on your stomach.

your hands rest on his chest, vision blurred and legs burning. rushed gasps and choked moans leave you, each bounce knocking the wind from your lungs.

“ke-kei, i-i can’t!” you wail, cunt gushing around him. “can’t what, baby?” his hand brushes stray hairs away from your face. your eyes focus, a sudden clarity fluttering through your system. the blond’s arms wee folded behind his head, smug grin on his face.

“you’re already doin’ so well, pretty baby, i stopped helping you awhile ago.” you hadn’t even minded his tricks, too lust driven to care. your hips come down at a harder pace, fully intending to milk him of all he’s worth.

your movements catch the hero off guard, his hands reaching out to hold onto your thighs. you’re relentless, the previous exhaust you had once felt had entirely dissipated, fueled with a new energy. “shit—fuckin’ hell, baby.” he grits.

you’re a goddess above him, an image of perfection. keigo’s nails dig into your skin as his cock throbs, a sharp whine leaves him as rake your nails across his chest. you’re both so sensitive in the moment, the slightest breeze causing you to shiver and yearn for more.

“that’s my good girl,” keigo grunts out. “such a good girl for me, you know that?” he rambling at this point, something you’re familiar with. his nails dig further into you, not enough to break the skin. “gonna let me cum in you, dove? hmm?”

“gonna let me fill your cunt?” his promises of breeding you fester into a ball of heat in your stomach. you slow your hips to a torturing grind and leaning down beside his ear.

“want you to cum in me, kei…”

“yeah? fuck, keep goin’, dove.”

[slutla]

‘WHATCHU NEED ?

ft. sinister! mark, mark grayson, mohawk! mark

- what are their favorite kinks?

warnings: 18+, nsfw, fem! reader, hand job, praise kink, toxicity, dacryphillia, crying, humiliation, degradation, misogyny if u squint, usage of bitch, slut, whore, etc. spitting. i can’t think of anything else but lmk if i missed anything.

an: minors dni the basic’s. you can very clearly tell who my fav is. i’ll prolly make a p2 with the rest of the variants if this is well loved

SINISTER ! MARK: DACRYPHILLIA

Mark fucks like he fights; brutal, relentless, without apology. There’s no hesitation in him, no softness when he’s like this. Just raw force and the thrill of taking, of claiming. He watches you beneath him, shaking, gasping, breaking apart with every thrust. And he loves it. Loves the way your body trembles trying to keep up. The way your voice cracks on every moan, every whimper. The tears slipping from your lashes like they belong to him. He drinks in the sight, your wrecked face, your parted lips, your eyes wide and dazed, sparkling with the last flickers of resistance he’s hell-bent on snuffing out. It makes something in him throb, deep, satisfied. Not just because he’s fucking you hard enough to leave bruises, but because you’re taking it. Letting him use you, ruin you, wreck you in the image of his own hunger. And that? That’s what gets him off. You’re a mess beneath him, slick, stretched, sobbing. And he thinks you’re beautiful like this. Shattered and helpless. His. Every thrust is a statement. Every groan he pulls from you is a victory. He’s not gentle, he never learned how to be—but his hands still cradle your face when he drives into you like he’s trying to fuck the stars from your soul. There’s something almost reverent in the way he watches you come undone. You fall apart for him, and he watches like a man starved. Every sound, every twitch, every tear feeds something deep in him. He makes you cry, and he smiles. Not out of cruelty, but because in those tears, in that surrender, he sees something honest. Something real. He’d ruin you a thousand times just to see you crawl back into his arms, tears drying on your cheeks, whispering his name like it still means something.

MARK GRAYSON: PRAISE

All the blood, the broken ribs, the ringing in his ears after every fight, Mark takes it. He always takes it. The weight of the world shoved onto his spine like it’s his birthright. Cities crumble and rebuild around him, and he just keeps moving. Keeps saving. Keeps bleeding. And Cecil? Cecil never stops. Always calling, always reminding him of the bigger picture while ignoring the boy who’s still barely holding himself together inside the man. He’s tired. Not just in his body, but in that deep, heavy way that presses on the soul. But then there’s you. You don’t beg him to save the world. Don’t want anything but him, raw, bruised, and starving for something soft. With you, he’s just Mark. Not a hero, not Nolan’s shadow, just a man who’s been torn apart and is desperate to feel whole. Your hands on him—slow, soft and possessive���piece him back together, stroke by stroke. Your voice, low and sultry, “You’re so fucking good for me, baby,” and those words hit harder than any punch he’s ever taken. Your fingers curl around his cock, thick and throbbing, already slick with pre-cum that betrays how much he needs this. You stroke him with a tenderness he’s not used to, but it’s deliberate, filthy in its care—like you’re not just jerking him off but claiming every fractured part of him. Your lips graze his jaw, his throat, and he’s lost in it—the heat of your breath, the scent of your skin, the way you consume him. His balls are heavy, drawn tight, aching with a desperation he’d never show in the daylight. He’s trembling, not just from lust but from how you see him. Not as a weapon. Not as a savior. Just as Mark—aching, loving, breaking. You don’t rush him. You unravel him slow, your hand gliding over his length, slick and relentless, while you whisper filthy praise in his ear. “Look at you, so hard for me, so needy.” The world takes and takes, but you give—your hands, your mouth, your words wrapping around him like a lifeline. He clings to you, hips bucking, moans spilling from his throat, raw and unfiltered. When you drag your tongue along the sensitive spot just below his ear, he’s fucking done for. His cock pulses in your grip, leaking more, and you hum in approval, like you’re savoring every second of his surrender. When he comes—spilling hot and messy over your hand, hips jerking, eyes screwed shut—it’s not just release. It’s a surrender to the safety you offer, to the way you hold him together when the world tears him apart. He gasps your name, voice wrecked, and for once, he feels like he’s enough.

MOHAWK ! MARK: DEGRADATION

He calls you his nasty slut like it’s a prayer and a curse in one breath. Voice low, ragged, reverent. The way your cunt grips him, tight and greedy, sends his brain sputtering; thoughts wiped clean, all instinct, all need. You make him dumb, and he loves it. He spits on your lips, your chest, between your thighs, inside you—wherever he can leave a mark. He wants it messy. Filthy, even. The kind of dirty that sticks to skin and lingers in the air. He’s obsessed with the way your face contorts when his calloused hand cracks across your cheek, or lower, where your thighs are slick and trembling, soaked to the bone with your own dripping need. The wet slap, the sharp sting, the way you choke out a whimper—it sets his blood on fire, his cock pulsing, leaking precum. He fucks you like he’s trying to break you, merciless, pounding your legs up so high they’re pinned to your shoulders, splitting you open to plunge into your womb. He wants to carve himself into you, to fuck so deep you feel him in your cervix, until there’s no line between his flesh and yours. Every broken moan you spill gets you a new name, “Needy bitch” growled through gritted teeth, his voice raw with hunger. And fuck, he loves it ‘n the way it makes your eyes roll back. Your cunt’s a sopping mess, gushing around his cock, drenching him in thick, slippery heat that drips down his balls. He loves the obscene squelch, the way your pussy clutches him like it’s starving, milking him for every drop. You take him so fucking well, every brutal thrust, every inch rammed home, like you were made for his cock alone. He’s addicted to the way you unravel, to the slick, messy proof of your surrender, to the way you let him ruin you.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

What kinks/fetishes the Thunderbolts have

Yelena/Bucky/John/Ava/Alexei/Bob x fem!reader

warning : +18, mdni, kinks and fetishes are discussed here

Summary : Everyone has their preferences, whether it's their favorite color, genres, music, or even in bed with their loved one. It's human nature; they may have been heroes, but at the end of the day, they were human too. Heroes who all have their own preferences and enjoy doing them with their lover.

info : Finally some smut for the team! I've been wanting to write a John Walker one-shot for days, but I can't get away from them. Have fun reading your favorite ;)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yelena

Teasing = She loves teasing her partner, which might start during the day with a wink, a kiss, and a touch, and end up in bed at night. Yelena loves seeing her lover try everything to keep control and not throw herself at the blonde. But how could she resist when Yelena gave her so much with every touch of her body before gently smiling and pulling away? Yelena knew her girlfriend's body and she was far from finished with her teasing.

“You're really cute when you're so desperate. I know how much you want me... Come on, one more time and then maybe I'll let you have me”

Lingerie = Yelena loves wearing erotic underwear herself, but she loves it even more when she sees it on her lover. She ran her fingers tentatively over the lace and lacing before kissing her way down the fabric to the center. Her love looked like the most beautiful thing that had ever existed, and she would take her time exploring her.

“You know exactly what you're doing to me, fuck—worse than any black widow”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky

Body worship = Bucky loves to take time for his sweetheart, not only during the day, but especially in bed, where it is important to him to take his time. Every part of her body is kissed and touched, his metal arm always holding her body as gently as possible. His real arm takes time to massage her breasts, tracing every little scar, mole, and stretch mark. For him, there was nothing more important than knowing that she was with him, that she trusted him so much.

“Let me touch you, hold you, let me spoil you, please, I need it”

Dress = Bucky is old, but even back then he liked dresses, and that hasn't changed today. He loved it when his lover wore different dresses, waited for him, and he just had to lift the fabric slightly to see how it revealed her skin, how pretty it looked on her body. It did something to the older man that he couldn't prevent, just seeing how the fabric lay on her body.

“Darling, is that a new dress? You know how you spoil an old man”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John

Praise = If there was one thing he always needed, it was recognition and, above all, adoration from his girlfriend. It was so easy to make him blush, to feel how the soldier gave himself more and more to her. The kisses were intense, and the shiver that ran through John's body when he heard her praise was quite visible, as was the fact that he would give her anything she wanted just to hear her praise.

“Honey, is it good? Yes, please, I'm all yours, just one more time, how good am I?”

Shield = John loves his shield, whether it's bent or straight, but he loved it even more when he saw his love with it. From a nice strip show to seeing her press herself against the shield and him having to pull himself together not to take her right then on the bed when she used the bent shield as a pillow substitute to grind against.

“Fuck-I wow, honey, you have no idea what you're doing, so sexy”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alexei

Daddy = Alexei was a hero of the Russian nation and a proud member of the Thunderbolts. But above all, when it came to his wife, he loved it when she called him that. When he held her so tightly that she clung to him, it made him smile when he heard her, out of breath, begging for more, and Alexei gladly gave his sweetheart more of the Red Guardian

“That's right, Daddy, Red Guardian is here to be all yours”

Leather = His suit is made of leather, as is the suit of his beloved, and maybe it was just the way she looked in it. But Alexei loved seeing the material on her, feeling its coolness and warmth, seeing how it hugged her body and showed off all her best features. Oh yes, with every suit he saw her in, Alexei looked forward to a long evening where it was just the two of them.

“Darling, please keep the suit on after the mission, I want to celebrate our victory properly, just the two of us”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ava

Heat/Ice = She was very familiar with different states of aggregation, but above all she loved to bring them into the bedroom. Seeing how her star's breathing quickened when she ran an ice cube over her heated skin through the wax, the rapid breathing and gasping when the wax dripped onto her skin. Ava knew what she was doing and she loved seeing what she could do to her star.

“Good girl, that's it, just two more drops and I'll be all yours”

Hands = Ava loved having her own hands on her partner's body, knowing that even in such an intimate moment, they were together. But above all, she loved her beloved's soft hands, touching them, kissing them, feeling them on and inside herself. It was a feeling of connection and closeness she had never experienced before.

“Just hold me, I want you, I need you... let me feel you, yes”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bob

Pain = The pain inside him was different, it paralyzed him again and again, but the pain he got from his girlfriend kept him alive. Every little slap, every little pat, and every kiss with a bite made him relax, made him know that he was in control. He wanted it that way, and seeing that his beloved would stop anytime he wanted and kiss him and his pain made him feel completely fulfilled.

“I can take it, trust me, just one more hit and then I'm yours”

Cuddling = On dark nights, he just loved lying in her arms, cuddling her with his love, kissing her, and just letting the minutes pass. Just fucking her quietly and tenderly, sitting her on his lap, them being as close to each other as they could be. Bob always wanted her as close to him as possible so he could feel her warmth, her body, and her whole being.

“Ngh—please just stay like this, stay with me, please”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@neska223 , @bribrisposts , @imtherain , @arickaandherfictionalothers , @brisselfshipping , @tallulinha , @anxiousmilflover , @eurydicesxshadow

[fujoshirat]

✩₊˚.Belated Housewarming—Literally!

Shouto Todoroki x reader

Summary: After your husband's job as a hero deprives you of intimacy and loving, you decide to make his birthday unforgettable with a heartfelt surprise that reminds him just how much he’s missing. The most important part of your plan? That damned lacy, frilly, pink apron hanging in your closet.

Warnings: A18+ (MINORS DNI), FILTHY smut, porn w/ plot, sex marathon, dom!Shouto and sub!reader, cursing, pet names, missionary, doggy style, squirting, oral (female receiving), upstanding citizen, three-legged stance, inappropriate use of a home but whatever floats your (Shouto’s) boat, breeding kink, domestic kink, temperature play, slight angst in the beginning but overall fluff and smut :)

Author's Note: Happy birthday to the man I fell in love with in 2020 ( ˊᵕˋ )♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The soft clunk of the dryer shutting off echoed through the quiet house, signaling the end of yet another cycle. Bending down, you toss the clean clothes into the laundry basket and walk to the dining table. The entire house is quiet, save for the soft sound of rain outside and the ruffling of clothes being folded.

Yup, this was your married life: silence in a punctual routine while living in an empty house that felt too large without your husband. For all the joy your wedding brought, no one had warned you how lonely it could feel to be married to the second-best pro hero in Japan.

And you have had enough!

It’s been one year since he proposed, 10 months since you moved in together, and 3 months since you both got married. You knew about what you were signing yourself up for. However, nothing could prepare you for what it was really like being married to a pro hero, no less the second best pro hero in all of Japan! A month after your wedding, Shouto had to hop on a plane to America for a mission with other pro heroes, leaving you alone in the house for three weeks. And in the weeks leading up to Christmas, Shouto would come home exhausted from work and patrol. It would be just past 11, just as you were tucking yourself in to bed (Shouto begged you to go to bed at an early time, even if he wasn’t home yet, but you found that hard to do), and your husband would open the front door. You would feel your heart skip: finally, he was home. But then, he’d stumble through the bedroom door with a tired sigh, eyes heavy with fatigue, and you could see the toll his day had taken on him. His uniform would be rumpled, his hair slightly damp from sweat and snow, and his pretty heterochromatic eyes would be soft and dazed as he quietly greeted you.

“Welcome home, Shou.”

“Tadaima.”

“Long day?”

“Mhm…”

“Are you hungry? I made chazuke for dinner earlier.”

“…”

“Perhaps a warm bath?”

“…”

You’d try to stay awake, to offer him something, anything that might lift his spirits—your smile, a warm meal, even a conversation. But all he seemed to need was sleep, and that’s what he’d do. He’d change into his pajamas (simple black shorts), kiss your forehead, and collapse into bed next to you (whose exhaustion was also a massive headache).

You were absolutely sexually frustrated and terribly missed your husband. As days went on, you longed for more than just his presence in the room. You wanted him. But the mission schedules, late night patrol shifts, and endless demands of Japan left you feeling distant.

Yeah, you were screwed.

And you couldn’t blame him. It had been his dream to become his own hero, not for his father, not to surpass All Might, but for himself. It was his calling, and the nature of his work, no, responsibility, naturally required much time and effort. However, you felt like it only widened the gap between you two as the days went on.

At least Christmas was decent. He finally took off time from work for the important holiday and stayed home with you for both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Those two days consisted of cuddling on the couch, hours of talking while a random TV show played in the background. You also visited his family for Christmas Eve dinner and stayed home the entire time on Christmas day.

And now, it was January. It was a new year, but most importantly, Shouto’s birthday was fast approaching. You were sick of this abstinence, it needed to end already! The last time your husband had touched you was 4 months ago on your honeymoon! Grumbling to yourself, you dig a hand through the laundry basket until you find the matching sock and continue your folding. ‘Don’t be selfish, Y/N! You knew that marriage wouldn’t be picture perfect! Get a grip!! Ugh, but I’m so pent up! I need the affection!’

You must be ovulating or really really REALLY horny right now because look at you, arguing with your voices in your head! Sighing to yourself, you finish the last of your laundry and head upstairs to start putting it away. After doing so, you check the time on your phone, the lock screen a picture of you and Shouto cutting the wedding cake at your wedding (photo courtesy of Izuku), and it brings a wistful smile on your face. You looked so happy, and so did he. Shaking your head, you pout and check the time: 10:59am. Getting ready to put the laundry basket away so that you could figure out what to eat for lunch, you spot something in the corner of your eye in the closet.

Upon closer inspection, you open the closet door and see your pink, frilly cooking apron hanging. ‘Huh, weird, I must have been so tired cooking dinner last night that I threw it in here.’ Taking it out, you put it on mindlessly in preparation for in case you need to make lunch because there aren’t enough leftovers. As you walk past the mirror and to the bedroom door, you pause in your steps. Your eyes widen when you an idea comes to mind as you remember how you looked in the corner of your eye when you passed by the mirror.

The apron, with its delicate trim, was really nothing special. It was a simple, pink, frilly apron that you had bought before moving into the house with Shouto. However, in this instant, the delicate lace trim, extra pink bows, and its slightly playful charm instantly sparked a thought. You had always loved cooking for Shouto (and he loved your cooking too), but it wasn’t just about the meals anymore. It was about what you could do for him—what you could show him. You could almost picture the look on his face if he found you, wearing nothing but that apron, waiting for him to come home. That thought sent a thrill up your spine, and you quickly caught your breath, heart racing a little too fast for comfort.

That idea was what you needed, and you knew exactly when to do it and what to prepare. Running down the stairs, you eagerly check the pantry. ‘Y/N! You naughty girl! What are you thinking?’ God, you were mad, insane, the surge of excitement building up in your head like your bottled emotions these past few months. You make a mental note to buy more soy sauce and extra buckwheat noodles tomorrow on your daily grocery store run. It was currently January 03, and you had exactly one week to prepare for Shouto’s birthday. Your idea felt so right, so tantalizing. Surely Shouto was pent up as well? Prior to engagement or marriage, you two never avidly had sex, nor did you avoid it.

And it was his birthday, more importantly, his first birthday celebrated with his wife, you. You wanted it to be extra special, to be a sexy happy memory made in this house. You wanted to make the day about him, so why not kill two birds with one stone? Squealing to yourself, you start cooking up lunch while scrolling through Instagram to find the open hours of a bakery down the street.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

At 6:45am, you slipped out of bed as quietly as you could with as little movements as possible. Taking off your pajamas, you could feel the warm, tantalizing bed with the most handsome birthday boy on earth trying to entice you back to bed. But, no, you were stronger than this! You threw the silky pajamas in the hamper and easily put on your “lingerie:” the lacy, pink, frilly apron. Next, you brush your hair as neatly as possible and put on light blush and mascara to look even more delicious. You have to hold back a squeal when you look at your appearance in the mirror. The flimsy material covered enough to leave room for imagination as well as exposed your body just next to those enticing areas. You felt like the epitome of the balance of sweet and sultry—like Sabrina Carpenter concert outfits—exactly what you were going for!

Your thighs weren’t killing you as much as they did these past few days (you did 50 squats from January 03 to 09, and then 30 yesterday to soothe your poor muscles and give them a break before the real workout you desired). Squats are no joke, but anything to be closer to a BBL on this special day! Entering the kitchen, you open the fridge and pull out a simple, white box. You place it on the counter and hum to yourself, ‘Do I make the cold soba now? Or should I wait?’ You tapped a finger to your chin, glancing at the clock on the wall: 7:01 a.m. There was still plenty of time before you planned to wake Shouto up, so you decided you might as well start cooking. The sooner everything was ready, the smoother your plan would go (plus, you weren’t sure if your legs would be okay if you had to cook lunch in between ykw).

After making your husband’s favorite meal, you quickly throw it in the fridge and grab the cake. Running upstairs as quietly as you can, you let out a relieved sigh when you see that Shouto hasn’t woken up yet—still sprawled on his side, one arm tucked under your pillow (that was “pretending” to be you). Your heart pounded with excitement, and at 7:30am, you place the cake on the dresser. Leaning over, you gently brush a strand of hair from his face.

“Shouto,” you quietly murmur, “wake up, birthday boy.” He stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, his soft expression shifting as his brows furrowed slightly and his nose scrunched up. “Mmm…” You have to hold back a laugh—he’s so cute!

“Shouto,” you call a little louder, amusement evident in your tone, “time to wake up!”

This time, his mismatched eyes flutter open, clouded with sleep. His left hand reaches up to caress your cheek as his right hand rubs his eyes. For a moment, he blinked his sleepiness away, still looking up at your face.

He smiled tiredly, exhaustion from last night’s patrol evident, until, in the corner of his eye, Shouto swears that you’re wearing a tank top. Tilting his head slightly downward, his gaze lands on what you’re wearing.

“Good morning, and happy birthday!” you smile shyly, desperately trying to ignore the burning feeling in your cheeks. “Did you sleep well?” Face filled with confusion, his eyes wander down further, and he takes in what you’re wearing (or rather, not wearing)—just one article of clothing (if it could even be called that):

That damned lacy, frilly, pink apron that you use when cooking.

Pink dusts his cheeks, mouth opening to speak, then closing. Shouto was speechless, realizing what today’s occasion was.

“Y-you’re—” His voice gets caught in his dry throat, and he swallowed hard. “Y-you’re wearing just that?” You tilted your head innocently, pretending not to understand. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

Shouto blinked, his hand reaching out almost instinctively to rest lightly on your hip, his fingers brushing the soft ribbon tied around your waist. “No, nothing’s wrong,” he said softly, his voice barely above a murmur. You giggle at this and move his hand away. “Ah-ah-ah! That, is for later. Aren’t you hungry for breakfast? I got you a cake!” You cheerfully open the cake box and hold it up to him. The fluffy sponge and layers of whipped cream topped with plump, glistening strawberries all add to the strawberry shortcake’s appeal. You watch Shouto sit up straighter, eyes practically sparkling at his breakfast.

“Strawberry shortcake,” he murmurs, “my favorite.” You smile and stand a little closer to him. “I know! That’s why I got it-” Suddenly, you’re cut off when his palm grabs your plump flesh. Not expecting this, you slightly jolt in surprise and grip onto the cake so to not let the beautiful creation get destroyed.

“I want this cake for breakfast, Y/N.” His velvety, smooth tone sends shivers down your spine—and the smirk on Shouto’s face and his mismatched eyes full of mischief blatantly focused on the furious blush on your face tells you all that you need to know: That bastard knows that he’s doing!! “Shou!” You huff, voice wavering as you try to ignore your burning cheeks, “Behave yourself! Let me feed you your breakfast.”

Your husband visibly pouts but lets out a sigh and leans back slightly. Who was he to deny his pretty wife from feeding him? You smile triumphantly, setting the cake box on the nightstand and sliding onto the edge of the bed beside him. Grabbing a fork, you carefully cut a perfect bite from the Strawberry Shortcake, making sure to get just the right balance of sponge, cream, and strawberry.

“Open wide, birthday boy,” you quip cheerfully, holding the fork up to his lips. The man smiles and obediently opens his mouth. “Ah~” Taking a bite, his expression turns even softer. A soft hum of appreciation escapes his throat, making it known that the cake was delicious. “It’s really good, love. Thank you.” “Mhm! It’s no problem at all!” Waiting for him to finish chewing and swallow, you bite back a smirk as you prepare for the next bite.

It was time for part 2 of your plan.

Reaching over to the cake, you use the plastic butterknife (harmless, I promise!) to scoop up a little bit of the frosting from the cake. Your husband looks at you curiously, unsure of what you’re doing.

And then, the cool feeling of the sugary frosting hits just above the valley of your chest, right where the top of the apron above your cleavage is. To add the cherry on top (or should I say, strawberry hahahahaha okay fine i’m not funny ig sorry), you place a plump strawberry right in the middle of the cream. Shouto’s eyes widen, and it widens even further when you teasingly tug the apron a little lower to show off your bare body for a few seconds. Innocently, you look at your husband. “Shouto,” you speak sweetly, feigning innocence. “What’s wrong, love?” You watch him swallow. Hard. His gaze lingers on the frosting, then flickers back up to your face.

“I said I was gonna feed you, right?” You bite back a giggle when you notice his hands gripping the blanket.

“Come and eat, birthday boy.”

Shouto gulps, eyes glued to your chest, as he moves over to you. His strong arms wrap around your waist as his warm breath hits your collarbone. He looks up at you with lidded eyes as he slowly rubbed your hands along your exposed hips. “If I come and eat, I won’t let you escape, okay?” You couldn’t tell if your husband was horny or trying to be cute, but his cheeks were still painted that lovely shade of red. Not thinking much of it (have we learned nothing??), you nod. “Mhm! It’s your birthday breakfast, remember?” Shouto’s eyes darken as he moves his face close to your exposed breasts.

“Itadakimasu.”

Warm, wet muscle dances along the valley between your soft chest. Biting back a moan, your head tilts upward, hands flying to Shouto’s hair. “S-shou…” No response: the red and white haired man was too busy going down on your divine body. He licks off the whipped cream frosting and starts eating the strawberry. Suddenly, he nips at your soft skin, eliciting a yelp from you. “Shouto!” you chastise him, but he interrupts you with another bite.

“God,” he mutters, “You’re so sweet.”

Your cheeks flush red again and you bite your lip to stifle and noises. You don’t even notice that Shouto has finished the dessert on your body and is looking up at you with a lovestruck expression. His calloused hands rub small circles at your waist to calm you. “My love, are you alright? Was I too rough?” You nod and look at him with a smile. “I’m okay!” The man lets out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding in.

“You know, I really like this surprise. It’s been so long and I didn’t realize how much I was holding in.” His eyes look down a little shyly from his honesty, and your heart melts.

“Oh, darling, I’ve been pent up too.” You gently touch his cheek while Shouto’s eyes widen at the revelation. You’ve been pent up this entire time? “Since when?” You let out a gasp at the question and look away shyly.

“D-don’t laugh!” "I won't laugh, I promise," he says, his voice tender without any trace of mocking as he reaches up to lift your chin so you can meet his gaze.

“U-uhm… Since you left to America...” His eyes widen in shock. “That long?” You watch his face contort from one of shock to one of regret once realization hits him like a wave.

He had been neglecting you, and he didn’t mean it.

“Y/N, I…” He bites his lip and runs a hand through his hair, shorter than when you first met him. “Shit, I… I’m so sorry I didn’t notice-” “No, no, no! It’s okay, it’s not your fault!” You wave your hands around in front of you as you try to reassure him. “I just didn’t want to say anything or bother you because you’ve been so busy and tired and stressed and-!” Shouto cuts you off mid-frenzy-of-an-explanation by grabbing your chin and forcing you to look into his eyes.

“I should have noticed how much you were holding in,” he murmurs regretfully, and you could hear the frustration in his voice. He wasn’t frustrated with you, he was frustrated with himself. “God, how many times did I ignore you? Every time I went straight to bed from patrol? Shit, love, I…” Shouto’s voice falters, and you could see the guilt weighing on him.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he says quietly, his voice thick with regret. “I was so focused on missions, and I just... I didn’t see how badly you were hurting, how much you needed me here. I wasn’t there when you needed me most.” You have to blink back tears at his statement. What he said was true, but you didn’t want him to shoulder the blame. It wasn’t his fault. “Shouto,” you whisper, “It’s okay. I know how important your work is for you, and I support you.” He shakes his head, rendering you confused.

“No, Y/N, I should have made you my priority, not my work.” His eyes burn with fierce intensity, gazing into yours as if they were wishing stars.

“You are my priority, and as your husband, I’ve completely failed in showing you that you are my priority.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you sniffle. “D-don’t say that,” your voice is wobbly as you reach up to wipe a stray tear, “Y-you’re gonna make me cry and I worked hard on this makeup.” (thank god for waterproof mascara) He laughs at your attempt to lighten the mood and kisses his forehead. “You look beautiful, baby, you know that?” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips linger for a moment, and when he pulls back, there's a lightness in his gaze, something playful.

"Okay, okay, enough with the tears for now," you say, trying to change up the sappy, sad mood. You wipe your eyes and take a deep breath, giving him a small, teasing smile. "I wanted today to be special, so let's enjoy it. Plus..." You pause, the mischievous twinkle in your eye returning as you lean closer.

"I want you to make me cry for another reason."

Shouto’s eyes widen in surprise for a brief moment before he catches the playful spark in your gaze. A grin slowly spreads across his face, and a quiet chuckle escapes him. “Is that so?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, but there's something else there too—a promise.

"Well, then, let’s see if I can make that happen."

Arms wrapping around you, Shouto presses his lips against yours. The kisses are soft at first, testing the waters and giving you the chance to back down (not that you were ever going to). But as the seconds go by, once your consistent kissing back makes it evident to your husband that you weren’t going to stop, the kisses become hungry and urgent.

His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue gently traces the line of your lips, begging for more. You respond in kind, your body melting against his, as you part your lips to let his tongue in. The heat between you both intensifies, every brush of his lips, every movement of his hands, making your heart race.

Suddenly, you pull back breathlessly. Shouto pants softly, eyes clouded with lust as the thick tent in his pants press into your bare pussy. You move your hips teasingly, grinding against him, drawing out a moan from your husband. “B-baby…” he murmurs out, squeezing your hips. You respond with a smile and reach down to remove his underwear. “If you’re okay with it, love, I’d like to take the lead this time.” Shouto’s eyes widen, but he smiles and nods.

“Okay, Y/N, but tell me if you need help or if it’s too much, okay?” Your heart warms at his offer, ever the gentleman, and you nod. “I don’t think I’ll need help but thank you, darling.”

Carefully, you lower your body down on his cock. You gasp when you feel his thick tip stretch your sweet cunt. He’s big, so so big and delicious. As your walls are practically split open, you have to go reeeeeally slow so to not hurt yourself. Hands gripping the sheets, you let out a slutty moan at the sensation. Your husband’s eyes are half-lidded, lust and love mixed together in the perfect ratio. He was only a little more than halfway in, and you already felt so full. Biting his lower lip, he gently reaches a hand over to hold your waist, thumb rubbing loving circles to help soothe whatever pain you may have been feeling (so sweet :( ).

And then, you go all the way up, just until only the tip is inside, and slam yourself down. Shouto lets out a choked, guttural moan, biting his lower lip. “F-Fuck…” His hands grip your waist tighter as he braces himself for more loving from you.

However, your hips do not move as he planned. Rather, they do not move at all and you remain planted on him. Slightly frustrated, Shouto looks up at you curiously.

“Love?”

There is a dangerous, mischievous glint in your eyes as you sweetly bat your pretty lashes at him, hips still not moving. “Yes, Shou?” Reaching over, you cut a piece of the cake and hold the fork up to his lips.

“You’re hungry, right? Say ‘ah’!” He frowns, clearly expecting you to ride him, but he obediently eats the cake. Swallowing, his fingers rub your waist. “Darling, are you going to move now?”

His frown deepens when you shake your head and hold up another forkful of cake to his mouth. “I can’t let my husband go hungry, right?” Before he can interrupt, you giggle. “We never really had a personal housewarming did we? Why not do it now?”

Oh, that’s what you’re plan was. Teasing him by fucking cockwarming him, a dirty move.

And Shouto Todoroki, as much as he loves you, does not like that.

Yeah, you probably should not have teased him so much, because strong hands grab your hips and lift you off your husband’s hard dick. Your back hits the soft mattress and you let out a soft “oof-!” The fork discarded onto the nightstand (a miracle it didn’t drop to the floor), Shouto’s darkened gaze pierces into your soul. Brows furrowed, his expression tells you all that you need to know: He’s had enough with your game, and it’s time for you to face the consequences.

Before you can protest, defend your playful teasing, his lips roughly press against yours, hungrily making out. He bites your bottom lip softly, hands roaming up and down your body, asking for permission to slip his tongue in. You open your mouth submissively, his wet muscle entering the warm cavern. His lips trail downwards to your jaw, nipping and kissing it, before settling onto your neck and biting the sensitive roughly. A whine escapes your throat, body burning with desire and need. “Shouto!! Haah, please…” Your body jolts with slight pain and pleasure when his left hand swats your ass, leaving a pinkish mark.

“Please what?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, feigning innocence as his fingers trail up your sides, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. “You were so confident earlier. What happened, hmm?”

“I… I didn’t mean it,” you stammer, your cheeks burning as you look up at him with wide eyes. “Don’t tease me, please…”

His smirk deepens, and he leans in again, this time pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of your jaw, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “Oh, but darling,” he purrs, his lips moving down to your neck as his hands tighten on your waist, holding you in place. The teasing tone he used while calling you such a sweet nickname makes your pussy clench around nothing, making even wetter. “Weren’t you just having fun teasing me?” Your eyes widen when one of his hands roughly pin your smaller hands down on the pillow above you.

Oh fuck, you were screwed.

Shouto lines up his shaft to your pussy, angry red tip swollen and leaking. He playfully slaps his cock on your clit, eliciting a soft moan from you.

“You know that I don’t like it when you tease me,” Shouto notes calmly, his eyes telling a different story. “Are you going to remember that next time? Or do I have to fuck you stupid to remember that, my sweet wife?”

Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sound of that nickname. But before you could respond Shouto begins to push the bulbous tip inside your tight hole. You throw your head back into the pillow, hands gripping the sheets at the stretch. Just the sheer stretch of his tip alone made your brain fuzzy. Shouto hisses at the feeling of your goey, tight walls. “D-damn, baby,” he breathes out, eyebrows furrowed sexily, “S-so fucking tight…” After a minute, he was balls deep, all of him buried inside your sweet pussy.

Yet, this was not enough for Shouto.

He slides himself all the way out (getting back at you), and rams himself back in. A soft cry escapes your throat, and Shouto almost hesitates to continue. However, your lewd expression and hips desperately moving to feel his cock move again quenches his fears of it being too much for you. He begins thrusting, pants and groans slipping out of his lips.

“Ah ahh—Shou—!! Y-you’re s-so deep-” Fat crystalline tears well up in the corners of your eyes as you whimper. Your husband suddenly thrusts harder, prompted by your comment. “Y-yeah baby, nice and—fuck—deep, gonna cum inside, okay?” Pupils practically heart-shaped, you nod eagerly.

“Yeshh-! Pleasepleaseplease-” Your husband continues mercilessly pounding into your sensitive cunt, soft thwacks! and squelching noises made from the way his mushroom tip kissed your cervix.

“Oh!! So—hngh!—good!!” Shouto toys your clit sweetly with a few circular brushes of his thumb against your neglected clit, pushing you over the edge. “Ahh-!! C-cummin’!!” Eyes squeezing shut, your pussy clenches around your husband’s dick, body jerking up in pleasure as you ride out your high. This seems to have pushed Shouto over the edge as well, because with a final thrust, he empties his balls in your sweet womb, filling you up with his hot, thick cum. Gently, you pull his face down to kiss you softly, taking deep breaths and trying to calm down.

However, as you reach for a towel on the nightstand, beefy, muscular arms grab you and flip you over on your stomach. A pillow is pushed underneath your abdomen as Shouto lifts your hips up to his cock. “D-darling!?” You squeak in surprise, not expecting his actions. Suddenly, Shouto plunges his dick back into your pussy, cum dripping down and onto the bed. A pathetic sob escapes your throat, along with moans and whines. “T-Thought we were done—ah!”

“You thought we were finished? Love, you should know…” His voice drops down to a husky, seductive whisper when he leans down to your ear, warm breath ticking you. His cock twitches in your hole, keeping your gummy walls nice and warm and stretched.

“I fully intend on making this house a real home with you, and ensuring that your womb is nice and full is step one.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Currently, you were getting your brains fucked out in the kitchen, body practically sandwiched between the kitchen island and your husband. It had been hours since you both started going at it. Only your right leg was touching the ground, buckling knee desperately trying to support your body. Shouto was holding your left leg, one hand looped underneath the knee of your left leg and the other grabbing your slutty waist as he ruts his cock into your cunt.

You couldn’t even form a sentence, your moans and mewls and Shouto’s groans filling the house. Manicured nails gripping the countertop, a gasp escapes your throat when you feel the familiar tightening in your stomach. Eyes widening, you know what was up: you were going to cum for the nth time.

Your eyes trail to the bruises on your hips from how hard he had been gripping you, then to Shouto’s face. “S-Shouto,” you moan breathlessly, a gasp slipping from your lips when his pelvis begins thrusting faster. “C-Close!!” The smug man smirks, biting his lower lip sexily and pulling your body closer. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you feel an unfamiliar feeling begin to build up in your abdomen. Cock drilling your insides, kissing your sweet, spongy g-spot, Shouto continues pounding hard. “B-baby-!! Oh! Ahn-! GonnA-!!”

Suddenly, the pressure is too much for you and a strangled sob escapes your lips.

Translucent liquid splatters onto Shouto’s abs and pours onto the floor. When you realize what just happened, your blood runs cold. Shouto’s eyes widen when he realizes this as well and his movements stop.

“…”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and then, blood rushes to your cheeks. Shit. You hide your face in your hands, groaning from embarrassment. “Shit-! Shouto! I-” You what? You couldn’t even say it.

You fucking squirted all over him and the kitchen floor.

Just when you’re about to spew out an endless number of apologies, the breath is knocked out of your lungs when Shouto’s hips start to move again. Your hands fly to grab at the marble countertop of the kitchen island again.

“Oh-! Ahn-! S-Shouto-!! Too much!!” The sensation was overwhelming, and you were still overstimulated from your recent climax. His fingers dig deeper into your soft flesh, kneading your waist.

“Hnngh-! I-Isn’t it—ngh—gross?” Your husband shakes his head, hips continuing to meet your pelvis, and a deep gasp escaping from his throat. “Not at all, love.” He pulls your waist closer to meet his hips, eliciting a sweet, harmonic moan from you. Leaning down, his hot breath hits your ear as he whispers seductively.

“It was hot.”

Your face burns from his honesty, not expecting his reaction. Whining, your eyes roll to the back of your head at the overwhelming sensation of a particularly harsh (yet pleasurable) thrust. Your blood boils in your veins as you tried to maintain your grip on the marble island top. Soft pants escape your husband’s lips, a curse word sprinkled in every now and then. Suddenly, Shouto bites his lip. He was getting close. Despite your lower half feeling like jello, you rocked your hips as best as you could to meet his hips, anything to get him close to finishing!

Through your clouded, fucked-out mind, you were still able to count how many times Shouto had finished so far today: four times (twice on the bed to fix your attitude, once in the bathroom when he was “cleaning you up,” and once on the stairs—wait… how did that even happen!?!?). “S-shou,” you pant out, one arm reaching up to wrap around his neck and stabilize yourself. “T-this is —ngh— s’pposed to be about you!” He smiles softly at your remark and slows down. Tenderly, he takes your other arm leaning on the kitchen island and has you wrap it around your neck as well. “I know, but I can’t help wanting to make you feel good.”

Without letting himself slip out of your heavenly folds, Shouto easily picks you up and carries you to the wall. The taller man pins you against it before resuming his lovely assault on your pussy. You writhe against him, babbling mindless nonsense and singing his name with your moans. You were so close again! Heat coils up in your abdomen again as you cling tighter to Shouto. His fingers dig even deeper, and he lets out a guttural moan.

“God, baby, y-you’re—fuck—divine.” His pace grew more erratic as he began thrusting faster. Tears form at the corners of your eyes as you sob pathetically, nails digging into his back. Shouto’s mouth presses against yours yet again, hungrily kissing you. Your legs quiver and your body jolts in pleasure as you come again. Your orgasm hits you like a truck, sensitivity heightened from the overstimulation. A few seconds after, Shouto thrusts one last time and fills you up, hot cum flooding your tight walls. Your body shakes as you come down from your high, euphoria surging in your veins again.

Carefully, Shouto lets your legs touch the ground—not that that was any good (he just pounded you!), but hey, the thought counts, right? Still holding onto you, he kisses your forehead softly, body pressed up against your bare skin and the pink apron. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” You smile cheerfully and nod. “Mhm! My legs are a little sore, though.” Your gaze flickers down to the pool of fluids a few feet away from you, your cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Let me just go clean that up.”

Getting down on your knees, you unintentionally flash Shouto with your perky, round ass on full display (keep in mind, you’re still wearing that flimsy, probably crumbled up by now apron). Shouto gulps, adam’s apple bobbing as he watches you grab a rag and wipe up your mess. Cum was still leaking from your cunt, dripping down your thighs and even leaving drops on the floor.

Just as you finish cleaning up your mess with a light, undignified blush, rough hands grab your waist and the familiar hard dick presses up against your ass. You gasp at the feeling. “S-Shouto?” Your response is an icy smack on your left ass cheek, making you yelp. “Shouto!” But before you could get mad at him further, your breath is knocked out of your lungs yet again when he slams his dick into your pussy. You fingers dig into the rag underneath you, knees wobbily trying to maintain balance on the hardwood floor.

“Hnngh!! Not again!!”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It was only 11:51am, and sweet Jesus were you tired.

You felt like you did every position already: on the bed, on your knees, against the wall, bent over the countertop, on the fucking stairs!! You were exhausted! And to your right, the birthday boy was cheerfully slurping his cold soba noodles for his birthday lunch. You weren’t very hungry, but you took a few bites earlier (he practically forced you to eat, concerned for your well-being). It didn’t even look like he broke a sweat, the only evidence of your nasty morning being the scratch marks on his back.

As you take a sip of water, your husband sneaks glances at you. Eyes full of concern and worry, he observes the various bruises, hickeys, and the state of your apron.

Right, that damn apron.

It was a wonderful surprise, a surprise that Shouto would have never thought would ever greet him in the morning, even more so his birthday. If he were to ever tell his first-year high school self of this life, he would probably scoff and tell him to focus on his hero career. But right now, as he looks at you—the person who’s turned his house into a home (and the reason why he even has a big house like this #proposal)— he can’t imagine anything better than this. Finishing his lunch, he places the plate down before wrapping his muscular, warm arms around you. Shouto presses a soft kiss to your forehead, eyes on yours.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice is soft and tender, full of love that makes your heart melt.

“Mhm!” You quip cheerfully and place the glass down. “I told you, I’m not hungry. You worry too much baby.” “I’m allowed to worry,” he murmurs, his hand resting against your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “Especially when it’s about you.”

Your heart swells at the sincerity in his voice, and you rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” you say with a smile, looking up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes. “You’ll have to put up with me for a while. ‘Till death,' you know?”

His lips curl into a small smile at the reference to your vows, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he whispers, pulling you closer. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

‘Till death’ was what he had promised. ‘I promise to love you until death, until death do us part. Yet I will love you even after death, for an aeon of eternity.’

And everyone knows that Pro Hero Shouto Todoroki never does a half-assed job. Especially as your husband. Looking back at your adorable figure, his smile reverts to a frown when he spots that lacy, frilly, pink apron.

Right, that damn apron.

The sight of it stirs a conflicting swirl of emotions in Shouto. On one hand, it’s adorable—seeing you proudly donning the frilly, slightly-too-thin fabric while bustling around the house for his birthday. But on the other hand... it’s too flimsy, too distracting, and it’s been on you for too long. It takes everything in him not to reach out and tug it off, not because he’s impatient but because it feels like the apron is mocking his already limited self-control. ‘You might be upset,’ he thinks to himself, lips pressed together in a thin line. Shouto knows how much effort and planning you’ve put into your plans today, and he doesn’t want to ruin it.

But at the same time, he wants to see you fully naked, bathed in your usual goddess beauty, all unwrapped just for him.

Besides, it was fine, right? That poor article of clothing needed a break: cum stains everywhere, smelling like a mix of Sol De Janeiro cherirosa and sweat from your lovemaking. It was crumpled up in areas too, no matter how much you tried to smooth it out.

The final string of restraint snaps in him when you put his empty plate in the sink, cute ass on display once again. Before you know it, the knot of the apron is undone and you’re tossed onto the couch.

“Shouto!” You huff, voice full of surprise. But before you can continue your complaining, the pink apron is pull off of your body and tossed to some corner of the living room. Shouto eyes you hungrily, like a wolf looking at his prey. You swallow nervously.

“B-baby?” His hand moves to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with surprising tenderness. “You look beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice softer now but no less earnest. “And I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.” He begins pressing featherlike kisses to your body, making you giggle and smile.

You were not prepared for what was coming next.

Cold fingers teasing your entrance suddenly press down on your clit, making you scream. You’re soaking wet again, face burning. “My lunch was delicious, like how you always make it,” your husband notes, teasing your hole by rubbing his hot fingers along your entire slit (from clit to ass).

“But I want to eat my dessert now.”

Your cunt makes embarrassing squelches and sounds, music to Shouto’s ears as he continues to eat you out on the couch. It’s been how long? 5 minutes? 10 minutes? 20? His tongue swipes your sweet bud while his middle and ring finger curl slightly and hit just the right spot. Shouto’s name tumble out of your mouth, recited like a prayer. At a particularly rough suck on your clit, your hands fly to Shouto’s hair, gripping it tightly. He moans at the feeling and flicks the bud teasingly. This sends you over the edge, eyes rolling to the back of your head and thighs spasming around your husband’s head.

Pulling his head away from your womanhood, he gives it a light, playful slap, watching your thighs jolt up. “S-Shouto!” You scold him lightly, out of breath. That was your third orgasm from just his fingers and tongue alone. He chuckles and reaches over to kiss you. “Sorry, love, I was just teasing.” Sweetly, he helps you sit up on the couch and rubs your arms to soothe you.

He presses a gentle kiss to your temple and pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. “You’ve made today perfect,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “And I want to spend the rest of it making you feel just as special.”

Your heart swells at his words for like the fifth time today, and you relax against him, the earlier tension melting away. “You always make me feel special, love.” your tone is filled with warmth as you gaze up at your husband’s perfectly mismatched eyes.

As he lets you cool down, Shouto turns on the TV to check the news. After a few minutes, you suddenly get an idea that you almost forgot about in your plan.

“Shouto?” you quip, gently tapping on his shoulder. He looks at you with a curious look. “Yes, love?” You grin, twirling your hair with a finger.

“There is one more place we haven’t quite warmed up yet.” Eyes filled with curiosity, he watches you stand up start walking. Shouto frowns and puts the remote down before following you. “Love? Where are you going?” Like a lost puppy, he follows you around the house.

You open the laundry room and walk to the washing machine. All of a sudden, you grab a dirty laundry basket and drop down to your knees. Digging your hands through the clothes, you begin tossing the clothing into the machine. “Y/N? Let me help y-”

All of a sudden, you stick your upper half inside, your bare butt on full display. Shouto’s jaw drops, throat drying up. You wiggle your legs in mock distress, fighting the smile on your face.

“Honey! I think I’m stuck in here. Can you help me out?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[hyuny-bunny]

what are your thoughts on skz with a dumb s/o? like genuinely ditzy and little absentminded and forgetful, but you’re still such a sweetheart. makes them wonder how dumb you’ll go on their cocks.

skz + dumb s/o

MDNI(18+): suggestive, nsfw, corruption kink, dumb kink ?, finger sucking, oral, penetration.

love this ask so much, it's not something i've thought much about before but here you go ! :3

chan: oh he dotes on you sooooo much. in the beginning he thought it was just a cute quirk but as you became more serious he realized... you really are just ditzy. he can't lie that he has to hold back on the days you can't help saying "huh?" or "hmm?" to everything but it sounds so saccharine from you. he loves the duality of it though. he can dote on you with how cute your whims are then flip you into a submissive state. even more so when he decides to pin you down in the backseat of his car putting your pretty mouth to good use. chastising you with "pretty baby so cock dumb hmm? only good for sucking me off huh?" with your response being your typical "hmm?" but your mouth stuffed with cock instead. even with your whimpers to take more of him in your mouth, he's happy to oblige holding your pretty face in his hands to use your mouth.

minho: as 1/3 of paboracha, he's never minded. intially i think he would think consider them as one off moments like asking the same question twice in a 2 second span. he might look at for a solid momemt with those cat blinking stares, processing that you're serious. he finds it cute though!! maybe quietly giggling to himself before kissing you on the forehead in passing. he likes it even more so when you're too cock dumb from him making you ride him while he coos and pets you like he does a cat. after trying to tease him all day with sex and suggestive groping. he only let you ride his thigh before caving into you enough to give you his cock after you begged him so nicely. "jagiya, use your words hm? too dumb to speak now hmm?" he'll say while thrusting up into you pretending he's not paying you any attention

changbin: loves loves loves how ditzy you are. he likes playing into the idea that he's just as much brain as he is brawn to you. especially when you're so absentminded with your surroundings in public. maybe there's someone being creepy towards you in a cafe, he's clocked them in already wrapping a protective arm around. you pick up in his protectiveness and to find your answer is being stared down with daggers by binnie. you're hero, savior! you have to reward him with the best head he'll ever had so you're happily taking him in your mouth once your home. he's got you on his cock taking him all the way down his throat while he coaxes you into fitting it all in your mouth "stupid angel always needs time to come to rescue mmh rewards me so sweetly."

hyunjin: 2/3 of paboracha coming in. he'd never think you were outright dumb, ditzy ? oblivious ? yes. he himself has no room to judge, you'd probably have him questioning himself on multiple occasions. you're probably just a little more oblivious around him, which he doesn't mind one bit. he kinda finds it cute how little though you probably give to so many things. he finds it even cuter when he's able to convince you to wear an outfit he picked out for you, one that of course will give him easy access to tease you in public. it was supposed to be cute picnic in secluded area of the park, until he had you laid out on the blanket taking his cock from behind shoving strawberry in your mouth & sucking fingers to shut you up. "shhh my love, don't want people to find us okay? can't let them see how stupid you were to let me take you like this"

han: going 3 for 3 with paboracha here. another one who dotes on your ditzy nature. i could see him with a s/o that's a little more clumsy. maybe you're always scraping a knee, bumping into sharp corners, burning yourself while cooking/baking, or just straight up walking into glass doors or poles. whatever the case may be he's there holding out his arms to soothe you, giving you kisses all over your face. he finds out how easy it is to convince you to the dumbest things. like convincing you that if you let him go down on you, his headache will go away or you're sore throat from the concert last night will feel sooooo much better if you blow him. that by swallow his cum, it'll feel & tase better then honey. "that's it's, good, suck me dry baby i promise you'll feel better. we might have to try a few loads of cum for it to work, k? just focus on taking it all though." his head thrown back while shoving you further on his cock.

felix: he likes that your so absentminded and ditzy. it make its so easy for him to impress you. especially when he has you sitting like a curious cat on his bed while you watch him build his new PC. your eyes sparking with excitement as he completes each step. or even when you watch him bake his recipes from scratch. doe eyed while you sit perched on the counter making your favorite brownies! he'd take a finger coated in the batter letting you lick off his fingers which only leads to him fucking you on the counter while he makes you choke on his batter covered fingers, "doesn't your orgasm feel so much better when you have something so sweet in your mouth mm? maybe let's watch you suck me off with the batter on my cock since you like my fingers so much?"

seungmin: mean dom seung *sigh*. he loves you to death but god you make it so easy for him to tease you. you're not a quick as he is, whether it's his snarky remarks or quick reactions to things he knows. you try to learn baseball, not actually playing but you know the basic rules. you want to try to at least understand what goes in the game. you're not the best but your attempts don't go unnoticed. even when someone hits a home-run but you're shouting goal so confidently it has him falling to his knees in laughing clutching his stomach because you genuinely meant it. he calls you the nth member of paboracha but in bed you're his dumb cock slut, taking him so good you're babbling nonsense. " what was that slut ? did you say something ? aren't you too dumb for words? " he'd condescendingly say before slamming himself into you once more.

jeongin: bark. sorry i love him so badly. he takes your ditzy nature as naiveness. whether or not that's the case, he'll treat it that way. even when you try to argue over something you know already he'll talk to you so sweetly like he's done such a good job of teaching you. maybe you're trying to learn japanese and his fluency helps you but he'll tsk you if he's in a particular mood. maybe you're out in japan gawking, 'ooh'ing and 'aww'ing at each store and you're curiosity almost gets you dragged in a male host club. so jeongin decides you need a break for a few hours so he checks you into a love hotel (unbeknownst to you) where he'd spend the next 2 hours or so talking down in your ear while he plays with you between your legs. haughtily scolding you for every single thing that's led to this moment, " i thought you knew better ? you have to listen to me jagiya, there's so many people out there that just want to use you hmm. guess i'll just have to show you." all before bending you over and smooshing your face into the pillow to abuse your hole with his cock, crying out for him to let you cum. chastising you until he's felt you learned you lesson.

[tteokdoroki]

brats & bows katsuki bakugou ── ᡣ𐭩 ˙ ̟🩰 !!

⋆˙ᝰ about! katsuki lets you wrap a bow around his pretty throat and boss him around… or at least try to.

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. nsfw, smut. characters aged up to 20s, light!choking, size kink, switch dynamics, unprotected sex, bows for bondage, fem!reader, pro hero!bakugou.

ok ok… convincing bakugou to let you wrap a pink bow around his neck.

riding him slow and steady, your cunt milking him with every clench and his cock spurting little streams of precum deep inside every time it spasms. you sink down on him so slow he think he might die from your tortuous pace. bakugou knows he can take over at any minute, there’s a strength in his body no other human could possibly match. it would be easy for him to flip you over and pound you to putty into the couch. he is a pro hero after all…but he really does like this. he loves the feel of your hand reaching back to wrap around his thick throat and dance along the silk ribbon you’d begged to tie there.

your fingers are so small that they hardly can’t even fit around around him entirely… but he feels the heat of your palm through the pink material and the burning sensation of lust that you pass onto him. katsuki adores your sweet little attempt at choking him while choking back your own heavy tears, hiccuping while you throw your hips back and forth so that his tip never leaves your sweet spot. lewd squelching sounds echo throughout the room, needy whines like a lamb bleating at its slaughter tack themselves to your swollen lips and slide through katsuki’s eardrums like dangerous molten molasses.

something about you crying for him, drooling on him drives the blonde insane and makes it hard for him to hold back — he almost feels sorry for you. his precious little cry baby. he knows he’s a little sick for it.

katsuki likes that you think you’re in control when you’re on top of him and in his lap. using him like your own personal fuck toy — but he knows you’re frustrated, itching for the explosive man to touch your clit, to stick his fingers in your mouth and press down on your tongue or better yet kiss you. your sweaty back to his sweltering chest, his shallow breathing coasting along your bare shoulders makes it worse. katsuki looking so pretty beneath you with a dainty bow secured around his neck to only pisses you off more.

you’d fought tooth and nail to put it on him, grinned like a Cheshire Cat when the blonde whimpered and twitched at the soft sensation of the ribbon around his neck — only just restricting his air ways. you thought that you’d have him under your spell, maybe begging to fuck you while you used him for your own orgasms.

but this is katsuki, and he’s just as bratty as you are. so, if you were going to be in charge, he’d let you. he’d make you work for it — a little bit of pink ribbon wasn’t going to make him submit to you that easily.

and therefore… he does nothing, lets you throw your ass back on his throbbing dick as it drips between your sticky thighs and he thinks he’s still got you under control. that is, until you reach grasp at the soft ends of his ribbon and use it to lug him forward with all your might, startling the cocky blonde.

it’s like a switch has been flipped inside of you, being kept on the edge because your boyfriend won’t fuck you to prove a point has you pent up and desperate. “don’t just sit there, kats,” you snarl in frustration between heavy breaths, sloppy pussy squeezing around the pulsating veins that decorate katsuki bakugou’s, cubby, aching dick. “be useful for once. fuck me. make me feel good.”

from this position, you can’t see the way his black pupils blow wide and swallow the red in his eyes like spilt ink. but your head tips back and to side, just enough to capture his cherry bitten lips in a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss. you lap into his mouth like a dog having her first taste of water, tasting his flavour and the sweat on his lips. every kiss l is mismatched, rough and messy but your bodies and their movements harmonise like no other — rolling against one another, your cunt never letting go of his swollen cock that fills you up oh so well.

your tone had said it all and it’s all bakugou really needed to let loose, his hips kicking up at the sound of your voice, rough with arousal and deepened with desire. finally, his calloused hands map their way over to your front, the pads of his fingers etching the letters of his name onto your puffy clit while others leave their mark on your hips — holding you in place to take his cock. the blonde loves it all, the way your back arches from his chest and the way your mewls turn to breathless growls when you lose your cool and pull the ends of the pretty bow so hard that his eyes glaze over, his brain goes fuzzy and he can’t stop thrusting up into like his life depends on it.

sweat beads on his brow and against katsuki’s hairline like a crown made of pearls or an angel’s halo much unlike the devilish act the two of you are committing right now. the competing wax and waning of your bodies sends a shiver down his spine — when you slam yourself down onto his seedy girth, katsuki bucks into you, slender hips and sweaty ass rising from the bed to grind his precum into your sluice walls.

maybe katsuki isn’t always in control, even when he thinks he is. maybe your big wet eyes and gushing pushy have more of a grip on him than he thinks…after all, you did manage to convince him to put the bow on after all.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[jweekgoji]

can u write some more yandere d-16 pls 😭🙏

D-16/Reader.

tw: yandere themes, power dynamic, size difference/size kink, soft yandere!d-16, cogless!d-16, cogged!reader, idol/fan relationship, jealousy/possessiveness, 18+ content. word count: ~720. a/n: FUCK russia for that huge fucking explosion in my city when I was writing alien-robots sex.

Normal D-16 is a total head over heels for his idol. Yandere D-16 lacks any sense of dignity when it comes to even the slightest chance of meeting you.

You can tell he's inexperienced, by the way you briefly trace the tips of your fingers over the side of his waist, the smaller bot on top of you shivering in pleasure, biting his lip.

His bright orange optics focused on the slightest of your action as you guided your servo higher, to his chassis. Was it really happening? Or is he dreaming? Maybe it was all Orion's fault, and he just hit his head hard enough during this race, so now he's imagining things...

“gonna overload now?” you purr softly, tracing your index finger over the edge of the hole on his chassis, just where his t-cog supposed to be.

“i—i am not,” he tries to protest, which sounds so weak that he's not even sure if he even believes himself.

he can't just...overload from a bit of foreplay, can he? it would be too embarrassing, you're his hero, his idol— he doesn't want to look pathetic in front of you, now that he's got such a chance, it would be foolish to lose it all now.

you push another finger deeper, teasing the cold edges of his hole, he can't help but thrust forward, his optics fluttering closed. you hear a soft ‘mmph—’, before he hides his face against the crook of your neck.

how cruel of you to tease the hell out of the no-cog? being with your own cog all your life, you had no idea that these areas could be...quiet sensitive for the cogless. you wonder if you can make him overload just from that.

you can feel his servos awkwardly moving towards your waist, tightening slightly. are you fine with it? with his servos right here? or should he put them somewhere else? his processor running with millions of thoughts, but when you gently guide him to continue moving his hips, he groans.

“i don't want to...not now, please,” he mutters softly against your neck, his breath heavy, as he struggles to control himself and not just melt right next to you.

you tilt your head, raising an optic bridge at that. you can only think about how he feels right now, his spike buried deep inside you, and your soft, warm walls around him just feel too good, too perfect for someone who spent cycles fragging his own servo in dreams of this moment before.

for you, it was barely something. he's short, only reaching your waist, at best. you can easily cover the whole length of his spike with your servo if you want, but there was some kind of sick pleasure in it, watching him squirm in his place, keeping his hips still so he wouldn't just overload in you here and there.

D-16 is so sensitive, it is almost amusing how he is considered one of the strongest and toughest among the other miners. you think, is it because of lack of intimacy? or was it just you, driving him to nearly short circuit? it's so unfair, but can he really hate it now, when it's exactly what he dreams of every single day?

he wants it to be perfect, so he could make you feel good, so you would beg him to take you, moaning his name just so everyone would finally understand that you're his. he's so sick and tired of being jealous, watching you smile and pose next to your fans, giving them your attention and affection when it was him who was supposed to have all of that? you're his, his, his, he's going to try so hard to claim you now, so maybe then everyone would just—

but when you press your digits harder, lightly scratching the metal surface of the empty t-cog slot in his chassis, he tenses up, arching his back in pleasure. the muffled, shaky moan escapes his lips, as he hides his face further against your neck, now trying to catch his own breath.

wait. did he just overload inside you?

[ramp-it-up]

Sweet Fantasy

Summary: You meet one of the "Big Three" at NY Fantasy Con. As Crewman Number Six, you should know how this will end. But you don't.

Word count: 5 K

Pairing: CATWS Bucky x Reader

A/N: This is a inspired by @avengers-assemble-bingo. #KinkyBingo. This fulfills the square: Praises. This is also part of @yenzys-lucky-charm Cranky, Grabby, Stabby, Oh My Challenge. Prompt: “Shut up and take your pants off.” This fic spiraled out of control and I-- well I needed a shower. And so do Bucky and Reader. If you haven't seen Galaxy Quest, well you really should. 😬 Please reblog, comment, and like!

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. All mistakes my own. Smut! Cosplay. Conventions, lots of LOTR and Galaxy Quest jokes, Grumpy Bucky in disguise, flirting, teasing, use of "old man," "Soldier" kink, a teeny tiny glimpse of subby Bucky if you squint (let me know if you see it), then he turns dominant and feral, praise kink, bulge kink, marathon man Bucky, intense sex, overstimulation, raw p in v, copious amounts of cum, possessive Bucky, begging. This is plot with porn at the end.

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

You decided to go to New York Fantasy Con alone. New city, new start, and the perfect place to meet fellow nerds who shared your love for all things sci-fi and fantasy.

You weren’t looking for anything more than a fun day of geeking out, debating space battles, and admiring top-tier cosplay.

One moment, you were adjusting your belt as Crewman Number Six, your uniform pristine, your perpetually wary I-know-exactly-how-this-ends expression firmly in place, and the next, you were nearly toppling over a very solid, very well-dressed Gandalf.

——

The day was filled with the unexpected.

The con was the perfect place to disappear, everyone in costume, no one staring, no one whispering. He was just another guy in robes and a fake beard.

Who’d walked in feeling lighter than he had in months.

And then you barreled into his life. Literally.

His staff clattered to the floor as he reached out with lighting fast reflexes, strong hands gripping your arms to steady you.

“My apologies,” he said, fully in character, though amusement danced behind the accent.

“I should know better than to block the path of a brave and noble…” His sharp blue eyes flicked over your uniform. “…expendable crew member?”

Galaxy Quest. Classic. His favorite.

“I prefer unsung hero, but sure.”

Your quick wit made him grin, and then you laughed a warm and genuine laugh. Something about the sound made him feel warm inside.

From there, it was easy. You two clicked. Effortlessly. 

Hours passed in a blur of banter, debates, and sly glances. You argued about the physics of warp drive, whispered snark about questionable cosplay choices, and shared his soft pretzel without hesitation,even if he definitely hadn’t offered it at first. 

Gandalf, as it turned out, was oddly possessive of his snacks. But once you stole the first piece, he started handing them over willingly, eyes on you every time you took a bite.

He just couldn’t stop staring because you were stunning, and not just in the obvious way. 

It was the way you moved,like you belonged there. Like you knew exactly who you were and weren’t afraid to take up space. 

And in way your uniform hugged your body, tailored just right to fit every curve, walking the line between adorable and dangerously distracting.

He was stupidly attracted to you. Cosplay or not.

You in that uniform, beaming and fearless, practically walking through the con so unassuming yet confident?

Yeah, that was doing things to him.

He noticed the way your eyes flicked toward him when you thought he wasn’t looking. And also the way your smile deepened when you caught him watching. The way you leaned in a little closer every time he spoke was magnetic. 

You were flirting. Hard.

And he liked it. Too much.

And that was the problem.

Because you didn’t know who he was.

You thought he was just some guy in a good Gandalf cosplay. You were flirting with that guy. Not Bucky Barnes.

Not the name, or the past, or the weight that came with it.

He should’ve kept his distance.

But he didn’t.

And on your side?

You had no idea what this man looked like.

Tall, yes.

Broad, clearly.

That voice, a warm tenor, and with a hint of rasp, was borderline unfair.

And those eyes. Icy blue, too intelligent to be just cosplay.

But still. Long grey beard. Hat. Layers of wizard robes. His entire being was a mystery.

And yet you were attracted to him. Nonsensically so.

When the crowd got thick, he let his hand find the small of your back and guided you through. 

He could’ve let go when the aisle cleared, but he didn’t. Not right away. Not when you felt that warm and solid against him. Not when his brain was full of you and your goddamn perfect laugh.

The electricity was ridiculous.

And maybe you let yourself lean back into his touch just a little.

You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. You flirted all the time, right? It didn’t mean anything.

Except you wanted it to mean something. The connection felt too easy. Too real. And that scared you more than the mystery.

Who was this guy?

You didn’t know his name, didn’t know what he looked like under the layers, and still… you were into him.

Really into him.

Which was why, when the con ended and you stepped out into the fading light of Manhattan, neither of you were ready for it to be over.

“Well, Gandalf,” you teased, “it’s been fun. Remember: Never Give Up, Never Surrender!”

He let out a sexy chuckle, but he hesitated, glancing toward the subway entrance, weighing something in his mind. Then, before he could second-guess himself, he spoke.

“You wanna grab dinner after this?”

You smiled up at him. 

“But we had such a good time today. I don’t wanna mess it up.”

His lips curved upwards. 

“There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.”

You snorted. 

“Smooth for a 2,000-year-old wizard.” 

You narrowed your eyes playfully. 

“Are you asking me out, Gandalf?”

He hesitated. That was the moment. He could’ve kept the beard on. Could’ve let you keep thinking he was just another guy with decent taste in pretzels and fantasy quotes. It was refreshing, getting to be just a guy, instead of a name, a history, a headline. 

But if this was going anywhere, you deserved to know.

“I’m only 108,” he said dryly, then added. “And yeah. I think I know when I’m asking someone on a date.”

You choked on air. 

“I’m sorry. What?”

He sighed, reaching up to hook his fingers into the fake beard. Slowly, he peeled it away, along with the expertly applied wrinkles.

Your eyes widened. Holy. Shit.

What remained wasn’t just some random guy in a killer cosplay.

It was Bucky Barnes.

Bucky saw the realization hit you. He braced himself, waiting for the change. The flicker of recognition and wariness, the oh, the backpedaling. It always happened.

“You probably figured it out before, but… yeah. When people recognize me, they, uh… sometimes change their minds. About me.”

For a long second, you just stared. Then, your lips curved.

“I didn’t know. And my mind is… not changed.”

You grinned, shaking your head. 

“You’re alright, Barnes. I mean, I’ve spent all afternoon with you, and you’ve been kind, funny, and genuinely one of the best parts of today. That doesn’t just disappear because you’re also kind of a big deal.”

You looked around, lowering your voice.

“To be honest. I was in it for the beard.”

Bucky blinked, then laughed quietly. He looked surprised, like he didn’t expect you to still be standing there.

“Well, if that’s what did it, I could’ve just kept it on.”

You were still here. Still flirting.

Your eyes swept over him. The mystery was gone, but the pull remained.

Stronger now.

“Yeah,” you said. “But you’re not so bad without it.”

His gaze flicked to your mouth, then back to your eyes. He was still cautious, and still wondering if this was real.

But you weren’t pulling away.

“Well,” he murmured, voice lower now, “guess I better make sure our date’s as good as the con, huh?”

You bumped his shoulder.

“You better. No pressure, though.”

No pressure.

Except for the fact that for the first time in a long time he actually wanted this to go right.

And you kept thinking: Damn. I think I actually really like this guy.

—-

The restaurant was small and warm, just cozy enough to forget you were in the middle of Manhattan. Bucky picked a booth near the back, the kind of spot with a clear view of the door.

Classic.

You didn’t call him on it. Just leaned on your elbows and watched him over the rim of your drink. That fucking uniform of your was getting him hard.

“So you didn’t wanna be recognized,” you mused. “Cool.”

You sipped slowly, licking a drop from your lip with deliberate nonchalance. Bucky’s eyes dropped. And didn’t stop at your mouth. He snapped his gaze back up quickly however, jaw tight.

Oh yeah. He was so fucked. He wanted to fuck.

You tilted your head, smiling like you knew exactly what you were doing.

“But Gandalf isn't just any old man,” you said, voice light. “He’s wise, powerful...”

You traced a finger around your glass. His eyes followed the motion, slow and unblinking. Bucky clenched his jaw, visibly struggling.

“…respected. Worshipped, even.”

Bucky swallowed hard. His fingers flexed around his glass, then curled into a fist.

You leaned in. 

“Bucky, you’ve been staring at me for the past twenty minutes.” 

You tapped the side of your glass. 

“Is this a wizard thing, or are you always like this?”

He cleared his throat again. He was always like this.

But you…were different.

“I…” 

He cut himself off, jaw clenching. He knew that you knew that he was struggling, and what he was struggling with. And that made him even weaker for you. 

You enjoyed making him squirm. And he liked it. Too much. Way too much.

Jesus, what were you doing to him?

Bucky huffed a weak laugh, shaking his head. His eyes flicked to your lips again and this time, he didn’t look away as fast.

“I didn’t mean to.” He paused. 

You’re just so fucking hot.

You grinned. Wicked.

“And here I thought it was some kind of kink.”

Bucky choked on his drink.

Your smile turned gleeful as you sat up straighter, pressing forward just enough to make him very aware of what was beneath your uniform. He was staring. Again.

“Oh my God,” you lit up, delighted. “Was I right?”

He coughed, his ears pink, and glared at you over his glass. 

He was so cute when he was flustered.

“No.”

You arched an eyebrow. 

“You sure? You did say you’re an old man.”

Bucky’s jaw ticked. Your grin only widened

You were having too much fun. It was like a game of cat and mouse, and dammit, he was the fucking mouse.

Then, just to test something, you dragged your fingers up and down the stem of your wine glass. 

He shifted, breath hitching. And you knew.

Oh, you knew. You knew what was happening under that table. You imagined, correctly, that he was hard as a rock.

“Oh,” you whispered, delighted. “You like this.”

His metal fingers gripped the table edge.

“Doll,” he said, low and warning.

But that just made you smile.

“You’ve been looking at me all day like you want to do something,” you murmured, watching his throat bob as he swallowed hard.

“So why are you holding back?”

Bucky rubbed his jaw. Discipline. Control. You could see him straining for it.

“Because I like you,” he admitted, voice gruff. 

Oh.

oh

Something in your chest tightened. Because that was real.

You stared at him for a beat, the energy arcing between you, but now it wasn’t just pure physical attraction.

“Bucky,” you said, voice softer now.

He lifted his gaze to you, blue eyes dark and hungry.

“I like that you’re holding back,” you said slowly. 

“Because it means that when you don’t…” 

You leaned in just a fraction. 

“...it’s gonna be worth it.”

Bucky let out a breath like he’d been punched.

And then he smiled slowly,a new knowledge coming into his eyes now that he knew where your head was at. He stood, tossing a few bills on the table.

“We better get outta here, Doll.”

And you didn’t hesitate. You followed.

—-----

The night air should’ve cooled the heat simmering between you and Bucky, but it didn’t. Not even close.

The restaurant had been one thing, but now it was just the two of you, walking side by side down the New York street, the hum of the city around you.

Bucky hadn’t touched you, not once.

But you’d felt him all over you nonetheless. You felt him in the way his shoulder brushed yours when you walked too close. In the twitch of his fingers, like he was one second from grabbing your hand. 

Or your waist. 

Or your throat. 

“Y’know,” you murmured, breaking the silence, “you don’t have to be so disciplined.”

Bucky laughed quietly.

“Doll.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

You peered up at him innocently. 

“I really don’t.”

Bucky stopped walking.

You did too, turning to face him. He was really looking at you now, his jaw tight, eyes dark.

“You think I don’t wanna touch you?”

His voice had some longing in it. 

“That I don’t wanna pin you against that wall right now and see how many ways I can make you say my name?”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

“But,” he continued, voice still measured, still controlled, 

“I don’t wanna do this wrong.” His metal hand flexed. “Not with you.”

Something in your chest fluttered at that, a warmth different from the heat between your legs.

“You wouldn’t be,” you murmured.

He shook his head, staring down at the sidewalk.

“I want you too much, Doll.” 

Then he looked back up at you, hitting you with those baby blues.

“And that’s dangerous for me.”

“Well,” you murmured, stepping closer, “maybe I like a little danger.”

His hand twitched. The struggle was written all over him. So you tipped the scale. You reached out and brushed your fingers over his metal wrist gently. Cool vibranium met warm skin.

Bucky inhaled sharply.

Then, slowly, his fingers curled around yours. Testing. Then gripping.

You bit your lip.

“Doll,” he warned.

You looked up at him, so alluring.  

“Soldier.”

His breath caught. Then he stepped into you. Still not touching, but so close. The heat of him soaked through your skin.

You licked your lips, and Bucky’s gaze dropped.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

Then he kissed you. Barely. Just a brush. Light enough to make you chase it.

The spark could’ve lit up Manhattan.

He pulled back an inch, staring into your eyes like he was trying to memorize you.

You could barely breathe. You wanted his hands. His mouth. His weight. You wanted him unleashed.

But Bucky was still trying to be good.

He lifted his flesh hand, skimming your jaw.

“I’m trying to be a gentleman,” he rasped.

You tilted your chin, pressing into his palm.

“What if I don’t want you to be?”

His eyes turned molten blue.

And then,his phone buzzed.

He just stood there, breathing hard, before letting out a rough, frustrated laugh.

“Guess the universe wants me to behave.”

You smirked. “For now.”

Bucky met your gaze, lust flashing behind his eyes.

------

Somehow you made it to your place and the tension hadn’t lessened. It had evolved. 

When you closed the front door behind you, Bucky snapped.

You turned to face him and he was there, pinning you to the door before you could even inhale. His metal arm slammed against the wood beside your head with a soft thud, and the other cradled your jaw, rough and tender all at once as his mouth crashed into yours.

No hesitation. No restraint. Just need.

You gasped, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding against yours, slow but demanding. He kissed like a man who’d been starved for years and finally got his first bite.

And God, you tasted so good.

When he pulled back, his pupils were blown wide, chest heaving.

“You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me,” he rasped.

You smirked, breathless as your fingers found the hardness in his jeans. 

“I have some idea.”

His eyes darkened.

“You think this is a game?” 

His voice dropped, low and dangerous. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, slow and firm, pressing just enough to make your breath catch.

You looked up at him through your lashes, heart hammering. 

“Is it not?”

“That’s it,” Bucky growled.

One second you were against the door, the next you were being lifted, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you like you weighed nothing. Your back hit the wall, his mouth finding the column of your throat. He kissed, licked, and bit, not enough to leave marks, not yet, but enough to make you whimper.

“Still wanna play?” he murmured against your skin.

“Yes,” you breathed, because you were nothing if not committed.

Bucky’s mouth crashed back to yours and his hand found the underside of your thigh and squeezed. His metal hand skimmed your waist, the cold kiss of it against your hot skin making you gasp.

“You want me to lose control?” he asked, lips trailing down your jaw, across your collarbone.  You moaned, arching into him.

“Yes, Soldier. Bedroom is over there,” you pointed weakly, then your hands returned to his shoulders.

Bucky grinned against you, cocky now. 

“Good girl.”

He walked you to the bedroom, never breaking contact. You were clawing at his jacket, his shirt. You needed to feel skin, metal, him. You didn’t care about slow or gentle anymore. You just wanted him.

He dropped you onto the bed and stood over you for a beat, chest rising and falling like he’d run a marathon. His hair was a mess, lips kiss-bitten, eyes blazing.

You sat up slightly, supported on your elbows, and tilted your head.

“Well?”

Bucky reached for his shirt, peeled it off in one smooth motion, and let it drop to the floor.

You swallowed hard. Good lord. Scars. Muscle. Metal. History. He was so hot.

Bucky climbed onto the bed until he was hovering over you, mouth brushing your ear.

“You’re not ready for what I wanna do to you,” he whispered.

“Shut up and take your pants off,” you whispered back.

When he did, your eyes went wide.

"Is that Grabthar's Hammer?"

He laughed softly. Then he kissed you again.  This time, there was no more teasing.

You were laid out naked beneath Bucky like something sacred, flushed and panting, the room thick with your scent.

Buckhy knelt between your legs, jaw tight, fists clenched like he was still holding himself back even now. His chest rose and fell, a man at war with his self-control. You shifted, your naked cunt calling to him and his eyes dropped instantly.

And then he broke.

Bucky dragged you closer like he’d been starving for this. He kissed your stomach slowly first, before biting just beneath your ribs, then moved lower. You gasped, your fingers threading into his hair.

“You still sure you want this?” he rasped against your skin, voice barely human.

You laughed breathlessly, tugging his face up so you could look him dead in the eye.

“If you don’t wreck me, old man, I’m gonna be pissed.”

That did it.

Bucky smirked, and then placed a kiss on your bare mound. Then, his mouth trailed lower, and gently kissed your clit as your eyes rolled and your nipples became even stiffer mountain peaks. Those ice blue eyes held yours captive as he flattened his tongue and licked a disrespectful stripe up the split of you. 

When Bucky finally tasted you, he moaned. A low, guttural sound that made your toes curl.

And he didn’t stop. He devoured. He licked into you, fucking you with his tongue, and pulling on your clit like it was saltwater taffy.

His hands pinned your hips down, metal unforgiving, flesh impossibly warm, like he was trying to memorize the exact shape of you against his palms.

You were already close, embarrassingly close, because this wasn’t just sex; it was a seal to your connection. This was the shit.

Bucky touched you like you were precious and filthy. And he looked at you like he wanted to worship and destroy you in the same breath.

When he slipped two fingers inside you, metal, cold and smooth, your back arched and a broken moan escaped your lips. His mouth didn’t stop. His rhythm didn’t falter. He was focused, like this was a mission, and your pleasure was the only thing on the damn agenda.

“Bucky,” you gasped, hand clutching at his hair, “I’m—”

“I know, I can taste it. Smell it,” he said, voice gravel and heat between your thighs. 

“Be good. Let me feel you come on my face.”

You did. Oh god you did.

You shattered, mouth open in a silent scream, thighs trembling around his head. Bucky didn’t stop, even as your body shook, even as it sounded like you’d forgotten how to breathe. He slowed, sure, but only just enough to guide you down from the edge.

He looked up, chin slick, eyes feral. Then he crawled up your body and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You okay?” he whispered, brushing your curls back from your damp forehead, voice suddenly soft again.

“I think I saw Sauron," you blinked up at him, dazed.

"What about you?"

He chuckled darkly.

"A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he cums precisely when he means to."

"I don't think that's the quote... oh fuccckkkk!"

Bucky moved with no warning, just a low, “Fuck, Doll,” before he lined himself up and slid in.

Your breath caught like a prayer.

He was big. Thick. Harder than steel and twice as punishing. He bottomed out slow, but deep, like he needed you to feel every inch of him.

And you could.

Your hands flew to his back, nails digging into muscle as he held still, forehead pressed to yours, breathing heavy.

“You okay?” he asked again, but his voice was strained now, like he wasn’t.

“Better than okay,” you breathed, clenching around him on purpose.

His control cracked.

He snapped his hips forward.

And that was it. 

The end of the gentleman. 

The death of restraint. 

All that carefully held discipline gone, replaced with something primal.

Something desperate.

He fucked you.

Slow at first. Deep. Every stroke angled just right, like he’d mapped you out in his mind and memorized exactly what made you tremble.

Then faster. Harder. Hips slamming into yours, head buried in your neck, one hand gripping your thigh to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

“Jesus,” Bucky growled, “You feel like fuckin’ heaven.”

You moaned something back, maybe his name, maybe nonsense, and he grinned, all teeth and hunger and male pride.

“Say it again.”

“Bucky…”

“No,” he rasped, grabbing your chin, making you look at him.

“Say what I am.”

You whimpered, broken and breathless.

“Soldier.”

His rhythm stuttered. And then he wrecked you. No finesse now. Just power. 

Just pure, relentless, possessive need. Skin slapping, bed shaking, your name falling from his lips like a litany.

You clawed at his back. Bit his shoulder. He loved it. Ate it up. Drove deeper, harder, until your legs were numb and your voice was hoarse from screaming his name.

And when you came again, a fucking detonation, he followed you with a moan that sounded like it could crack the walls. You felt him pulse spray inside you, hot and endless, as he collapsed against you with a groan.

Silence. Except for breathing. His, ragged and heavy. Yours, shaky and stunned.

He didn’t move right away. Just kissed your shoulder. Your collarbone. The corner of your mouth.

“Still with me?” he murmured.

You blinked up at him, eyes glassy.

“I never want you be a gentleman again.”

Bucky laughed, low and pleased.

“You haven’t even seen me misbehave yet.”

You barely had time to breathe.

Bucky didn’t even pull out. Still buried to the hilt, somehow still hard and already rolling his hips again, slower this time, more deliberate. Testing.

Your overstimulated body jerked at the sensation, a whimper escaping your lips.

He grinned against your throat.

“Oh, look at that,” he murmured, voice dark silk. “Sensitive.”

You tried to answer, tried to say something, but then he drew back just enough to thrust again, deep and slow, and your brain short-circuited. Your back arched off the bed, hands scrambling for anything to anchor yourself.

Bucky just watched you hungrily. He was fascinated.

He held himself up on one arm, the other drifting slowly down your body, metal fingers grazing your throat, your chest, down to your belly, resting right where the head of his cock pushed up from the inside.

“Right here,” he whispered, pressing just enough to make you feel it. 

“You feel that, sweetheart?”

You nodded, dazed, lips parted.

He moved again.  A slow grind,  a deep roll. And the pressure made you gasp.

“God,” you breathed.

Bucky smirked, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. 

“Nah. Not God.”

He shifted his weight, grabbed your thigh, and flipped you without warning.

You let out a shocked cry as he pulled your hips up, chest pressed into the mattress, and entered you from behind in one smooth thrust that had you biting the pillow.

The new angle was devastating.

He set a punishing rhythm, hands gripping your hips. His hands, one warm and flesh, the other cold and unrelenting vibranium, held you in place like you were his to claim.

“You said no more gentleman,” he rasped, panting as he fucked into you harder. 

“You sure you can handle that, Doll?”

You sobbed out something that sounded like yes.

He chuckled wickedly.

Then one hand slid up your spine, between your shoulder blades, curling into your hair to tug your head back just enough to hear him growl in your ear.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this, ruined.”

You clenched around him, and he groaned, hips stuttering.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” 

His teeth scraped your neck. 

“Like it when I talk to you like this? Like you’re mine?”

You were beyond answering now, every nerve ending lit up, your body already climbing again. How was this possible?

As he fucked you through the aftermath of the last orgasm straight into the next.

Then you felt it.

His metal hand slipped between your legs, finding your clit with devastating precision.

“Gonna come for me again, sweetheart?” he whispered.

“Gonna soak my cock like a good girl?”

You screamed when you did, your entire body locking up, shaking under him, pulsing around him so hard that he nearly lost control.

He held on just long enough to groan your name, slamming into you one final time before coming with a shudder so intense it nearly brought him to his knees.

After, he collapsed beside you, dragging you back against his chest with an arm wrapped tight around your waist, breathing hot against your skin.

“Still don’t want me to be a gentleman?” he murmured, smug and breathless.

You couldn’t even speak, hadn’t even caught your breath.

You were still trembling, your thighs slick and shaking, your mind floating somewhere between pleasure-drunk and completely wrecked.

And Bucky?

Bucky hadn’t moved far. Still pressed against your back, one arm locked tight around your waist, chest rising and falling against your shoulder blades. But his hard cock was nudging against your inner thigh again. 

You were realizing what the term supersoldier meant. You were wrecked but he wasn’t even tired.

“You’re insatiable,” you managed to rasp, voice half-muffled by the sheets.

He nuzzled into your neck, chuckling low. 

“Says the one who begged for it.”

You turned your head, just enough to meet his eyes, and smirked. 

“I didn’t beg.”

Bucky raised a brow. “No?”

Then he rolled his hips, sliding his cock between your thighs again without fully entering, just letting you feel the weight of him.

Heavy. Christ, his cock was so deliciously heavy.

Your breath caught.

“No,” you repeated, but this time it wasn’t convincing.

“Mmm,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder. 

“I think you did beg. Might’ve even said please, if I remember right.”

“Lies,” you whispered, but the way you arched back into him gave you away.

And Bucky grinned.

“Alright then, Doll,” he breathed, shifting to grip your hips again, “if you’re not gonna beg…”

Then he slid inside again, slow and torturous into your abused hole.

“…guess I’ll just fuck it out of you.”

You moaned, your back arching, and Bucky didn’t even give you time to adjust. He just started moving, deep and slow at first, rolling his hips so that every stroke dragged perfectly against your walls. 

You were oversensitive, your body already spent, but somehow this was worse.

Or better.

You couldn’t tell. You felt everything.

Bucky leaned over you, chest to your back again, the heat of him covering you completely. One hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head to the side so he could mouth at your throat.

The other slipped under you and of course he found your clit again.

“Let’s see if I can make you beg now,” he murmured, thumb pressing just right.

You cried out.

“Still not beggin’, huh?” he rasped.

“Not even a little?”

You whimpered, thighs trembling.

“Baby,” he growled in your ear, “you’re fuckin’ soaked. I can feel you dripping down my balls. And you’re gonna lie to me?”

You tried. You tried to sass him. But then he hit that angle and rubbed just right and —

“Fuck! Please! Bucky!”

There it was.

He smiled against your skin, triumphant.

“There’s my good girl.”

Then he flipped you again, barely pulling out before he was slamming back in with enough force to shake the headboard. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your nails raked down his back, and Bucky groaned, burying his face against your neck.

His voice was ragged now.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, goddamn can’t get enough of you, can’t let you go…this is not just one night…”

You were gone. Spiraling. You didn’t even know what number this was anymore.

Orgasm or round, you’d lost count.

But Bucky knew.

He always knew.

“Come for me again,” he ordered, hand cupping the back of your neck as his hips pounded into yours.

“I want you to fall apart while I’m still inside you.”

And you did.

You shattered around him, one last scream torn from your throat, and that was what finally dragged Bucky over the edge. He came with a groan, deep and raw, spilling inside you as he gripped you like he never wanted to let go.

—-

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Time stopped meaning anything.

Eventually, you blinked up at him, hair askew cheeks flushed, throat hoarse.

“…You’re an evil wizard,” you croaked.

Bucky just smirked, brushing your hair back and blowing cool air on you. You closed your eyes and smiled at the tender gesture.

“You started it, crewman.”

You laughed weakly, burying your face in his chest.

“…Worth it.”

Bucky kissed the top of your head and held you closer.

“Damn right it was.”

——-

How’d you like it? 😇

[shadowkoo]

Very Bad Behavior

→ Summary: Tall, dark, and dangerous. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. They say bad things come in threes, and you’ve spent your entire life steering clear of every troublesome temptation. But when a familiar stranger catches your eye one night at work, resisting suddenly feels impossible. You might just start to wonder how bad can indulging in a little bad behavior really be? Especially when it feels so good…

↠ seokjin x f.reader | 6.9k words | 18+ ↠ genre: rockstar au, one night stand, famous guitarist!seokjin x oblivious/non-fan bartender!reader, smut, strangers to lovers

→ Warnings: explicit sex, protected sex, rough sex, strong language, drug usage, alcohol consumption, praise kink, hair pulling, biting, mutual masturbation, manhandling, nipple play, breast play, begging, dirty talk, heavy teasing, spanking, multiple orgasms, grinding, exhibitionism, doggy, deep dicking, size kink, Seokjin is (rightfully) cocky about his huge dong, belly bulge, getting off from the vibrations created by jin’s motorcycle 👀, cocky dom!seokjin, oh and i almost forgot… jin’s got a magic cross dick piercing 😈

→ Networks: @ksmutsociety @k-vanity @keopihaus @lapydiaries @bangtanwritershq

→ Author Note: This is long overdue (me and collab deadlines don’t have the best relationship lol), here’s my part of the Can’t Be Tamed collab hosted by Sav @jeonjcngkook. Also a big thank you to Ley @pars-ley for beta reading this for me, I adore you!!!! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3 divider credit

ıllıllı [ now playing ▸ vbb.mp3 ] ıllıllı

˙⟡˙ the new insane — counterfeit ˙⟡˙ what do you want from me? — bad omens ˙⟡˙ antimatter — silent planet ˙⟡˙ (pls) set me on fire — enter shikari ˙⟡˙ code mistake — corpse x bring me the horizon ˙⟡˙ bang bang — revnoir ˙⟡˙ instead — xdinary heroes, yoon do hyun ˙⟡˙ apathy — windwaker ˙⟡˙ die mf die — dope ˙⟡˙ self sacrifice — wage war ˙⟡˙

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

“What can I get you?” you holler over your shoulder to the new body sitting on an open stool. Quickly stuffing the cash into the register, you turn around with your usual customer-service smile and hand the remaining change to the couple as they gather their things, preparing to leave.

It’s been busy all day, with waves of customers coming and going, but now you’re in that brief lull after the dinner rush, just before the night crowd starts to fill the room. With the peak of the summer season in full swing, business has been non-stop. And tonight should be even more hectic as it’s Friday night.

Walking toward the new guy waiting, you look him over while trying to get a good read. You first notice his glazed-over and slightly red eyes, a trait you easily recognize as a bartender at a popular downtown dive bar. He has a half-smoked blunt hanging between his fingers, somehow making himself look even more attractive.

Next, your vision trails along the black ink covering his tanned skin; a lightning bolt at the corner of his right eye, Fearless scribbled below his left, and a large piece with skulls and roses took up most of the space on his neck. And even though he’s wearing a leather jacket, it’s not hard to guess that his arms and other places are most likely covered by tattoos too.

“Surprise me, gorgeous,” he says, leaning forward with a dangerous smile.

Rolling your eyes at the overused line, you reach for the ingredients you need to mix something this pretentious guy would never order for himself. You do your best to hide your smirk as you grab the bottle of peach schnapps from the sea of other liquors and the orange juice from the cooler near your waist.

His gaze wanders from your curvaceous backside to what you’re making. “Ah, Sex on a Beach,” he notes, as you hand over the cherry-colored drink, with the umbrella and all. “My favorite.” His sparkling eyes lock with yours when your hands touch during the exchange.

“Really? Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Well, that’s fair. Would it be more believable if I said I’m usually more of a Jack and Coke guy?”

“Oh wow, now that is surprising,” you tease. “Who would’ve guessed?”

“Alright, what’s your go-to then? What do you recommend?”

You lean against the counter, pretending to ponder deeply, “I would have to say peanut butter flavored whiskey has my attention at the moment.”

“Fuck that,” he says with another grin that shows off his perfectly white teeth.

Who is this man, and why is he such a stunner?!

“You can’t be serious?”

A smirk grows on your lips as you grab two shot glasses and the bottle of Skrewball. You fill them without looking, a fun bartender trick of yours, keeping your eyes locked onto his. You pass one to him, keeping the other for yourself and lifting it to cheers, “Bottoms up.”

He lets out a sigh, “Here goes nothin’...” His face immediately twists up in disgust, and he sputters after swallowing. “Oh my god,” he clears his throat. “That has to be the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure nastier things have found their way between your lips,” you joke, laughing while he finishes the glass of water you also set out for him.

“You have no idea…” he says, playing along.

“So, what brings you to town?” And more importantly, how long are you here for?

“Ah, I’m just here for the weekend with my buddies,” he smiles, before taking a sip of his sex on the beach.

The front door opening interrupts your conversation, and a group of college-aged guys walk in, who immediately wave you down to get their drinks.

“Hold that thought,” you say, eyes drifting back to the door as it opens again for the next group that struts in and joins the guys who are now whistling for your attention. “I’ll be right back, gotta take care of these assholes.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. When I need another I’ll just whistle for ya.” He smirks, and your insides heat up while you walk away. You don’t know him, but you like him.

Unfortunately, that lovely group kept you busier than you would have liked. By the time you can satisfy them and the girls whose drinks they also bought, the handsome stranger is long gone.

All that remains is an empty glass sitting on top of a napkin with the words, “Thanks for the chat and the amazing sex (on the beach), See you around!” scribbled along with a crisp hundred-dollar bill.

You wonder if you'll ever see him again. The odds are slim, and you try not to let that sting.

The rest of the night flies by, and before you know it, it’s approaching 3 a.m. Much to no one's surprise, you’ve made your entire month’s rent in tips tonight, which is why you love working closing shifts when everyone else would prefer to already be home and in bed.

Bartending is typically an easy job if you like being social. Drunk men are easy to flirt with and the money flows if you can bullshit with them for long enough.

“Have a good night, guys,” you say, waving goodbye to Jenny, the other bartender working with you tonight, and her boyfriend Dino, who also happens to be the bar’s bouncer.

They wave back and say goodnight before turning to walk home together, leaving you to finish locking up.

Your loud yawn is hidden by the low rumbles of a nearby motorcycle, and the exhaustion of the busy night finally hits you. Dropping your keys into your purse, you turn in the opposite direction to head home.

“Calling it a night this early?” a familiar voice says from the darkness surrounding you. You freeze in place, trying to make out the shadowed figure.

“Oh,” you say in relief, after taking a couple of steps closer and seeing the hot guy from earlier. “It's you.”

“I was wondering when you’d get off,” he says, his smooth voice making your skin shiver.

“Aww, have you been waiting this whole time?” you ask, a slight tease in your tone.

He leans casually against his bike, the city lights flickering in his eyes. “Nah, I met up with my friends for a bit. Then realized I forgot to give you something.”

You tilt your head, with a playful smirk on your lips. “Let me guess, your number? Or your name?” Heat curls in your stomach; either one would be a win.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his gaze trailing over you like a slow caress. “But you gotta work for it.” He swings a leg over his motorcycle and taps the empty space in front of him. “Sit.”

You raise a brow but obey, straddling the bike backward so you're facing him. It’s not like you’re going for a ride, so what does it matter? He doesn’t complain about your positioning. His hands quickly find your thighs, his thumbs tracing slow, intoxicating circles into your skin.

“So…” you exhale, pulse quickening under his touch. “What did you forget?”

His smile turns cocky, and without warning he leans in, his lips a breath away from yours.

“This,” he whispers before kissing you. He claims your mouth with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt and certainly no space for air. His hands tighten on your thighs, pulling you closer until there’s nothing between you.

You can’t believe this is happening, you’re practically straddling a hot stranger’s lap, tangled in a very heated kiss. Even the cool night air does nothing to tame the fire licking at your skin.

Threading your fingers through his thick hair, you tug just enough to draw a low groan from him. Your hips shift instinctively, and the moment you do, a gasp slips from your lips. The deep purr of the motorcycle beneath you vibrates through every inch of your body, teasing that sensitive bundle of nerves through your jean shorts.

He pulls back just enough to smirk, his breath hot against your lips. “Does that feel good, gorgeous?” His voice is low, dripping with sin. “Are you a needy little whore who just has to get off?”

Before you can respond, his strong hand presses against your lower back, guiding you down against the hard metal of his bike. The vibrations intensify, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Grind those hips, baby,” he purrs, his other hand still gripping your thigh. “Show me how needy you are.”

A whimper escapes you as your hips obey, moving with desperate friction, chasing that delicious edge. He leans in, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers filth that only makes the ache worse.

“You’re such a pretty little whore,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “But I think you need to show a little more skin for me.”

He tugs down the scoop neckline of your shirt, exposing the delicate lace of your bra. His eyes darken, admiration flickering in them as he takes in the sight of you.

He leans in, his warm breath ghosting over the fabric before he presses his mouth against it. Leaving a teasing kiss, then another. His tongue traces over the lace, dampening it, before he tugs it down, both layers of fabric pushing your breasts up enticingly. His gaze flickers up to meet yours, and he grins devilishly as he watches them bounce in time with your desperate movements.

Without warning, his lips latch onto the soft peak of your flesh, sucking greedily before biting down just enough to make you gasp. The sharp pleasure sends another jolt of heat pooling low in your stomach. He moves to the other nipple, his tongue teasing you and savoring this moment.

He doesn’t need to hear you say that you’re close; he can feel it in the way your hips stutter against his bike. Your movements growing erratic, more desperate.

He groans against your skin, voice thick with satisfaction. “Come undone for me,” he commands, his grip tightening. His voice is possessive and downright dangerous. “Right now.”

Your body shatters, pleasure ripping through you in the form of an uncontrollable moan spilling from your lips. He holds you close, his lips brushing against your temple as he chuckles, satisfied.

“Good girl,” he murmurs smugly, his voice laced with approval. “That’s it.” He pulls your bra and shirt back up, covering your exposed skin just before a car drives by.

You’re still catching your breath, pulse hammering, when reality crashes back in. “Oh my god,” you whisper, pressing a hand to your face. “I cannot believe that just happened.”

He grins, tilting his head. “Oh, you better believe it, sweetheart.” He lets his fingers trail over your thigh before reaching into his leather jacket, pulling out a small envelope.

“Here.” He holds it out to you, his smirk sinful. “Save a little of that bad behavior for me tomorrow.”

You take the envelope, raising an eyebrow. “What is this?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Open it later and find out.”

You roll your eyes, but the teasing glint in your gaze betrays your curiosity. “Mysterious and cocky. Dangerous combo.”

“You’re into it,” he counters smoothly, reaching around your body and revving the engine beneath you. The vibrations send a wicked aftershock through your overstimulated body, making you shiver. His pleased smirk deepens. “Time to hop off, baby.”

You bite your lip, still breathless. “All that, and you’re still not going to tell me your name?”

He shakes his head, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “Show up tomorrow, and maybe I will.”

With one last lingering glance, you slide off his bike, your legs still unsteady as you head back to your car.

He watches you with that devilish smirk, like he already knows you’ll meet him damn near anywhere tomorrow. Just for a repeat of something similar to tonight.

And dammit, he’s probably right.

Everyone told Seokjin that bringing his motorcycle on tour was a bad idea.

It’ll take up too much space. It might get damaged. Some unhinged fan could steal it and sell it for a million dollars.

But none of those reasons had been enough to stop him. Especially when the pro list included making you come undone last night, riding the vibrations of his engine like a damn symphony.

That memory alone? Worth every logistical nightmare.

He smirks to himself, leaning against a wall backstage, eyes scanning the slowly filling venue. Doors had opened thirty minutes ago, and the first opener is about to hit the stage.

But so far…there’s no sign of the pretty brunette that he’s been unable to stop thinking about.

“There you are,” a deep voice says from behind.

Startled, Seokjin turns slightly to find Yoongi, one of the band’s other guitarists, watching him with mild amusement.

“Didn’t think you were the crowd-watching type,” Yoongi adds with a raised eyebrow, stepping beside him.

Seokjin shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Just scoping the energy.”

“Uh-huh. Seems like you’re looking for someone?”

Jin manages to dodge the question when Taehyung, their lead singer, bursts out of the dressing room with a parade of barely-dressed women behind him.

“Dude,” Taehyung groans dramatically, “Where’s the fucking booze? The dressing room’s already dry. Can you believe that shit?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Yoongi deadpans.

The two immediately fall into their usual back-and-forth, trading sarcastic barbs and wild theories about who drank the last bottle of whiskey. But Seokjin tunes them out.

His gaze is still locked on the crowd, his fingers tapping nervously against his thigh. You’d never confirmed that you were coming tonight, despite him counting on it.

Did you look up the band after opening that envelope? The one he slipped into your hands right before you walked away, while you were still flushed and a little breathless after your little exhibitionist act? The one containing a ticket to tonight’s sold out show, with an all-access pass that gets you the best view inside the barricade, plus allows you backstage.

He wonders if you pieced it together, if you made the connection about who he was.

You two hit it off instantly. It was far more than he ever expected when he stopped by that bar for a quick drink, barely an hour after their tour bus pulled into the venue lot. He’d debated it. Going out without security wasn’t exactly recommended, not with how massive their fanbase is. But it was still early enough in the night before it would be too busy, and surprisingly, no one recognized him.

Not even you. That was the most refreshing part.

You didn’t look at him like he was Seokjin, popular rhythm guitarist of Dark & Wild, the notoriously reckless band that had carved its name into rock history with more scandals than awards. You weren’t starry-eyed over the media headlines, the platinum records, or the chaos they left behind in every city.

You looked at him like he was just a man.

Not a musician, not a rockstar. Just a stranger with a sharp jaw, a dirty mouth, and a bike that made you blush.

You didn’t know he was in the middle of the Can’t Be Tamed world tour, one of the most anticipated events in music, already dubbed by critics as legendary, unfiltered, and unforgettable.

And that’s what made last night feel so real. It was raw and unscripted. Something he hasn’t had the pleasure of enjoying in quite some time.

Now, with adrenaline in the air and the crowd getting louder, he’s wondering if you'll stand out from the sea of faces. Or if you’ll remain hidden at the back of the crowd. He hopes you’ll use your advantage and be right up front. Right below his spot on stage, so he can tower over your pretty frame and show off.

God, he really hopes that’s the case.

As the bass echoes off the walls and stage lights flash when the first band takes the stage, Seokjin can’t help but wonder if last night was the last time he’ll ever see you?

With a quiet sigh, he turns away from the crowd and heads back to the dressing room to finish putting on his makeup and stage outfit. Still, his mind keeps drifting back to you.

His lips curl into a smirk at the memory of your face last night. How gorgeous you looked as you came undone in front of him, bold and unfiltered, grinding against the vibrations of his bike like you had nothing to prove. Damn, you were daring. Something refreshing that he found sexy as hell.

Jin chuckles under his breath, the memory fading as another wave of uninteresting women spills into the room with the company of his other bandmates.

A concert ticket… and an all-access pass? Is this what he’s in town for?

You turn the items over in your hands, reading the details printed in bold ink. Dark & Wild – Can’t Be Tamed World Tour. Your eyes widen slightly. That’s tonight.

You bite your lip, thinking it over.

Dark & Wild. Is that his favorite band? It would make sense, he definitely looks like the type who enjoys heavy guitar riffs and screaming fans. And he did mention he was only in town for the weekend.

But how the hell did he manage to score tickets? You remember hearing on the radio at work that the concert had completely sold out weeks ago.

Maybe he works for the band? A roadie, perhaps? He did have that confident, edgy energy. Like someone who thrives in the chaos of tour life, all the late nights and loud music.

Whatever his connection is, it doesn’t really matter. You’re just excited to see him again for your date tonight. Sure, it was technically just an invitation…but in your head, it counts as a date. And the butterflies in your stomach haven’t stopped fluttering since you opened the envelope earlier.

You can’t even remember the last time you were this excited for something. It’s been forever since a guy made your heart race. And, if you’re being honest, even longer since someone made you come like that.

So yeah, you’re definitely going.

You even decide to dress up more than you normally would for a concert. Not that you like to try hard, but hey, you’ve got someone to impress. Slipping into a black mini skirt that hugs your hips just right, you pair it with a black and white leopard print corset that cinches your waist and shows just enough cleavage to tempt. Then come the knee-high red leather boots that make your legs look a mile long and are impossible to ignore.

You twist your dark hair up into a messy-but-intentional style, securing it with a sharp chrome hair clip that glints under the light. With a swipe of eyeliner and a touch of red lipstick, you take one last glance in the mirror. Perfect timing, because your phone buzzes soon after.

Grabbing your purse, you sigh in an attempt to calm the nerves glittering beneath the surface as your Uber pulls up. The ride is short, or perhaps your mind is just preoccupied with the possibilities of tonight. 

After getting dropped off, your heart flutters with each step you make toward the venue doors. The closer you get, the more real it feels.

Once the staff member waves you through after scanning your ticket, your pulse quickens. You’re about to see him again. The mysterious stranger who took one ordinary night and turned it into something wild. You wonder if he’s already arrived, if he’s waiting for you. If his face will light up when you walk toward him.

An hour later, your excitement slowly starts to unravel. The second act is about to finish their set, and there’s still no sign of him. You’ve been scanning the crowd nonstop, but the faces blur together under pulsing lights and stage fog. Though you know you’d be able to sense him.

But he’s not here.

Your stomach knots a little tighter with each passing minute. Maybe he got caught up. Maybe he’s still on the way. Maybe he’s at the bar. Maybe–

You chew your bottom lip, clutching your purse a little tighter.

Maybe he changed his mind.

As a last resort, you make your way toward the security guards stationed at the far left side of the barricade, right by the emergency exit doors.

You’ve been quietly watching from afar as a couple of crew members flash their passes before slipping past security like it’s no big deal. You hadn’t wanted to go that route unless you had to. But now, with no sign of him in the crowd and your hope thinning by the minute, it feels like your only shot.

You hesitate; the idea of being so close to the stage makes you uneasy. Especially when you barely know anything about the headliners who are about to run out. You don’t want to look out of place, like someone who doesn’t belong.

Still, you have to do it. You internally groan as you approach the guards, trying to look casual as you hold out your pass. They barely glance at it before nodding and letting you through. You step past the barricade and find a spot that hugs the left side of the stage, doing your best to stay out of the spotlight. 

This side of the barrier is mostly empty. A few photographers are positioned with heavy cameras and media badges dangling from their necks. Past them and off to the right, you spot a small group of women. Probably girlfriends, or maybe groupies, laughing amongst themselves, already at ease.

He’s not here either.

You scan again, just to be sure.

Still, there’s no sign of the handsome stranger.

You’re about to give up and leave, heavy disappointment beginning to settle in. Of all the people to get stood up by, it had to be someone who was really nice, actually funny, and insanely attractive.

Boy, do you know how to pick them.

Just when you’re ready to call it a night, you catch yourself and halt your mood from worsening. Fuck it. Why should you miss out on the show? It’s free, after all. Now that the popular band is about to take the stage, you might as well stay and enjoy the music. It sure as hell beats going home to another lonely evening.

Suddenly, the stage lights dim, and the crowd roars as members start stepping into their places. As the intro of their first song begins, the lights flash back on and the screaming intensifies. That’s when your heart does a little flip, as your eyes fall on him.

Wait.

Holy shit.

It takes a moment for it to sink in, but when it does, you inhale rapidly. Your stranger isn’t a fan or roadie…he’s in the band.

His eyes lock onto yours across the stage, and you freeze, completely stunned by this new information. He smiles, pleased to see you, and then bam. That familiar smirk spreads across his face. He winks next, which makes your stomach flip as the barricade of fangirls behind you scream even louder.

What a fucking tease.

The roar of the crowd, the pounding beat of the drums, and the electrifying guitar riffs all hit you at once. You feel the vibrations from the amps in your chest. As they dive further into their set, something clicks, you actually know some of these songs; sometimes they’d play over the radio at the bar during your shifts. Catchy enough to hum along to, sure, but never quite playlist-worthy. At least, not until now.

Because hearing them live? It’s something else entirely. The sound wraps around you, enveloping you in heat and haze, and you don’t even try to fight it as the music pulls you under its spell.

Your motorcycle-riding, guitar-playing, dangerously handsome stranger moves across the stage like he owns it. Every step, every strum, is perfectly in sync with the rhythm. There’s a swagger to the way he plays, like he knows exactly how good he is. And how good he looks doing it.

Seokjin knows you’re watching him. He loves that your eyes trail him no matter where he moves on stage. He’s an entertainer, after all. He’s used to having thousands of women’s eyes on him. But tonight he only cares about yours.

He sneaks another glance at you.

You’ve let go completely, swaying your hips and dancing without a care. He smiles, he’s maybe even a little awestruck, as he takes in how much fun you’re having. He can’t help but stare like you’re the only person in the room.

And every time your gaze flicks back up to him, he’s already looking. 

You lock eyes again and again, holding each other’s stare until he breaks it to look out over the crowd or exchange a nod with another band member. The smoldering glances you share make your stomach do flips and your knees feel a little weaker than you'd like to admit.

You came to this show expecting just to see him. Now you’re not sure how the hell you’re supposed to walk away without wanting more. Without needing to know what it would be like to have one night with him.

Last night was just the preview.

He and another member run off stage, prob to get a water or something, you don’t think anything of it because not even a minute later they're back on stage and starting the next song.

It’s a ballad, and you sway along to the romantic lyrics, when someone suddenly taps on your shoulder.

“Hey, Seokjin sent me down here. Do you have the pass he gave you?”

Seokjin. That’s his name.

You nod and lift it off your neck.

"Perfect. Once the band comes back out for their two encore songs, head over there,” he points toward the other end of the stage, “And show your pass to the security by the stairs. They’ll let you through so you can watch from side stage until the set's over."

Jin can’t help the satisfied grin that spreads across his face the moment he spots you standing side stage, tucked behind a couple of crew members. The lighting casts a soft glow on your face, and for a second, the chaos of the show fades into the background.

He still can’t believe that you’re here.

The band powers through the final encore, leaving the crowd screaming for more as they belt out the last note. After one final strum, Jin tosses a few guitar picks into the sea of fans, flashing a wink to the front row before stepping off stage, adrenaline still buzzing through his veins.

He heads toward you, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair, only stopping when the rest of the guys crowd around him. Peering over their shoulders, he catches your eye and waves you over.

"Come here, I want you to meet everyone," he says, without any hesitation. He gestures to the group of men, each in various states of post-show chaos, shirtless, sweaty, all grinning. “This is Yoongi and Jimin, our other guitarists. Joon plays bass. Hobi and Tae are our lead vocalists—”

“And that,” a new, cockier voice says, cuting off Jin, “Leaves the best for last.”

A tall, inked-up guy with loose dark curls and a smirk that screams trouble steps forward. He extends a hand toward you, “I’m Jungkook. I slam the shit out of the drums…among other things.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Jin rolls his eyes so hard it’s almost audible. Jungkook enjoys riling him up, especially in front of a gorgeous girl. His grin only widens when Seokjin shoots him a warning look.

“Don’t mind him,” Jin mutters under his breath, his hand grazing your lower back possessively. “He’s still trying to figure out how to flirt without being a menace.”

You laugh when Jungkook winks at you. “What can I say? I’m a crowd favorite.”

Jin snorts. “Sure, dude.”

The guys chuckle before greeting the other women who walk up to the group. But Jin lingers beside you, eyes never quite leaving your face.

“You looked good out there,” you say, still buzzing from the show.

He smirks. “You looked better.”

“You guys ready to party?” Jimin hollers, already halfway toward the exit with a couple of girls on his arms.

Jin doesn’t answer right away. His hand slides lower, fingers brushing over the bare sliver of skin between your corset top and your skirt. The light touch sends a trail of goosebumps up your spine.

“We’ll meet you there,” he finally says, not breaking eye contact with you.

He hadn’t fully registered what you were wearing earlier. He’d been so caught up in the fact that you were here, he missed the finer details. Now he’s taking in every inch of you; the curve of your hips, the way your corset hugs your curves, especially the flash of thigh above those red boots.

And all he can think about is how badly he wants enjoy you.

Jimin catches the look on Jin’s face and raises an eyebrow knowingly, but he doesn’t say a word. Just smirks, wraps his arms around two women like the rockstar he is, and calls out, “Alright ladies, let’s get the fuck outta here.”

He disappears, leaving you and Jin in your little bubble while the crew begins to pack up around you.

“Come on,” Jin murmurs, leaning closer to your ear, his hand still on your back, “I want you all to myself for just a little longer.”

He pulls you into the dressing room, the door slamming shut behind you before he swiftly locks it. In the next second, your back hits the door with a soft thud, his body pressed against yours.

“So…Seokjin,” you tease, lips curling into a wicked little smile. “Any other secrets you’re keeping from me?”

He chuckles low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leans in. “Mmm, no secrets,” he murmurs, eyes dark with need. “But say my name again.”

You obey, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Seokjin.”

He groans softly, like the sound of his name on your lips is something filthy and divine all at once. “Shit, baby. It sounds so good coming from you.”

His hands roam your waist, gripping the curve of your hips like he’s already imagining what they’ll feel like wrapped around him.

“Now that you know who I am,” he breathes, brushing his lips along your jaw, “You understand this can only be a one-time thing.”

You meet his eyes, unbothered by that fact, and your breath hitches as his fingers play with the hemline of your miniskirt.

“So fucking worth it,” you whisper, before crashing your mouth against his, your hands tangling in his hair.

It’s all heat and hunger, there’s no hesitation between either of you.

He presses you harder into the door, pinning you between the solid wood and his firm body. Without warning, he lifts you, and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. 

Jin’s mouth is everywhere; your neck, your collarbone, the soft swell of your chest. His hands slide over the curve of your ass, kneading possessively, before one dips lower. His fingers curl inward, teasing your aching core through the thin fabric of your panties.

You gasp against his lips, moaning softly as his fingers graze right where you need him the most. But just as you start to roll your hips into his hand, he pulls away.

The sound of your whimper is swallowed by his deep groan as he grinds his hips into you. The thick, hard length of him presses right against your center, and you swear your body trembles at the contact.

“Oh my god,” you mewl, head falling back as you feel just how big he is, even through layers of clothing. Your body clenches in anticipation.

“I can’t wait to sink into you,” he growls against your throat, his voice deliciously rough. “You ready for me, baby? Think you can handle all of me?”

He thrusts his hips again, making your breath hitch.

“I bet you can’t wait for me to split you open,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “Stretch you so fucking wide, you’ll feel me for days. Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Seokjin, please,” you beg shamelessly.

That’s all he needs to hear.

He turns, carrying you across the room like you weigh nothing, and tosses you down onto the leather sofa. You land with a bounce, your heart pounding and thighs clenching.

He stands over you for a second, his dark eyes raking over your body below, savoring the way you look spread out and desperate for him.

“Take off your panties,” he commands, “I want to watch.”

You don’t hesitate. Slipping your fingers beneath the fabric, you begin to slide the soaked lace down your thighs. They snag slightly on your boots, but he’s already kneeling to help, tugging them the rest of the way off with a growl of frustration and want.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, eyes darkening as he takes in the slick glistening between your thighs. “You’re already dripping for me.”

He rises and takes a few steps away, grabbing a condom from a torn-open box on the counter, clearly left out by someone else’s pre-show indulgences. But when he turns back around, what he sees nearly sends him to his knees.

You’ve leaned back into the couch, one arm propped behind you, the other between your thighs. Your legs are spread wide, shameless, your skirt hiked up around your waist as your fingers slowly circle your clit before slipping lower, dipping into your soaked entrance.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes, hand moving to palm himself as you moan and bite your lip, teasing him with a second finger. Your eyes meet his, heavy with lust, and the raw hunger between you thickens.

He pulls his cock free from his pants, and your gaze drops instantly—only to widen at the shimmer of something silver catching the overhead light.

He strokes himself with the same speed as your fingers, letting you see every inch of what you’re about to take. The thick, veined length of him is beautiful, but it’s the four tiny silver beads at the crown of his cockhead, encircling his tip in a perfect ring of piercings, that leave you breathless.

Your core clenches around your fingers at the sight.

He sees your reaction and smirks, lazily making his way back toward you with that same infuriating, devastating confidence, and still pumping his cock as if he has all the time in the world.

“Curious?” he rasps, towering over you.

You nod, lips parted, breath shallow with anticipation.

He strokes the head of his cock once, collecting the bead of precum glistening at the tip. Without taking his eyes off yours, he brings his thumb down to your mouth.

“You’ll find out what they do soon enough,” he murmurs.

Your lips close around his thumb without hesitation, sucking softly. Tasting him, teasing him.

That last thread of Seokjin’s composure snaps. He swears under his breath, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he tears open the condom with his teeth before swiftly rolling it on over his thick, pierced length.

Then, without warning, he grabs your hips and slams into you in one devastating thrust.

The force rocks you back into the cushions, a sharp cry escaping your lips. If it weren’t for the vice grip he had on you, you might’ve been launched right off the damn couch.

“Fuck,” he growls, head falling forward for a moment as he adjusts to your tight, wet heat. “You feel better than I imagined.”

You’re breathless, body arching to take him deeper as the metal beads drag against your inner walls with every slow pull back, sending sparks shooting through your entire core.

Your hands clutch at the edge of the sofa, eyes rolling back as he thrusts hard again.

And just like that, you're ruined.

“You love how I split your pretty little pussy open, don’t you?” he growls against your neck, voice dark and possessive. “No one else is ever gonna compare to me. No one else is gonna fuck you like this. This deep, this hard.”

You let out a broken moan, your entire body trembling beneath him. Words are useless now, your brain is too foggy, too overloaded with pleasure to even form a sentence. All you can do is gasp and cling to him like your life depends on it.

“Look at how much of me you take,” he grunts, pulling back just enough to force your gaze downward.

The sight between your thighs is obscene. His thick, pierced cock driving into you over and over, glistening with your slick. You can see the slight swell in your lower belly every time he bottoms out, a bulge pressing up under your skin.

“Oh my god,” you whimper.

“I don’t even know how I fit,” he teases, panting now, a wild smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s like a goddamn magic trick, huh?”

Then he shifts, just a slight change in angle, but the second those cool metal beads drag across your sweet spot, everything inside you unravels.

Your body arches, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave. You clamp down around him, shaking, gasping, crying out his name as he fucks you through it.

“That’s it,” he growls, losing his rhythm just a little as you tighten around him. “That’s my good fucking girl.”

Before your body even has a chance to recover, he flips you over onto your hands and knees, your limbs still trembling from your last orgasm.

His grip is firm, one hand wrapped around your waist to steady your quivering body. You barely have time to brace yourself before you feel the sharp sting of his teeth sinking into the plush of your ass, followed by the loud crack of his palm slapping the other cheek.

“Fuck, look at that,” he groans, admiring the fresh red print blooming beneath his hand and the indents of his teeth on your skin. “You wear me so well.”

And then he’s sliding back in, fucking you from behind with bruising force. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes off the walls, mingling with your breathless moans and desperate cries of his name.

“Seokjin!” you scream, back arching as overwhelming pleasure rips through you.

He fists a handful of your hair and yanks your head back, hard. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp.

“Take it,” he snarls, his hips slamming into yours with punishing rhythm. “You love it rough like this, don’t you? Getting ruined like a fucking cock whore. Getting treated like the nasty girl you are.”

The pain and pleasure blur into one intoxicating haze as he brings his hand down on your ass again, another sharp spank that makes your legs shake and your core leak.

Just when you think you can't take any more, you feel his thumb press against your tightest hole, teasing as his cock drives into your soaked center. You whimper, your head dropping forward.

“Gonna fall apart for me again?” he pants behind you, voice strained with the effort of holding back.

You nod frantically, unable to speak, your walls already fluttering around him.

Then it hits you, your second orgasm tearing through your body, wave after wave of overwhelming ecstasy leaving you breathless and undone. Your vision goes hazy, your mouth falls open in a silent scream, and your entire body quakes under the weight of it.

You collapse forward, barely holding yourself up as your slick walls flutter wildly around him, clenching down like a vice.

“Jesus,” he grits out, his control unraveling in the heat of your orgasm. The way your body grips him, so fucking wet and perfect, drives him straight to the edge.

With a deep growl, he slams into you one final time, hips flush against your ass as he spills into the condom. Pulse after pulse of release torn from his body, as he holds you there, buried deep, his head thrown back as you milk every last drop from him with your trembling cunt.

You’re both breathless, your bodies slick with sweat and every nerve on fire from the intensity of it all.

For a moment, neither of you move, slowly coming down from something so fucking feral it barely feels real.

“So,” he says with a lazy grin, still catching his breath, “If I leave tickets for you next time we’re in town…you want a repeat?”

You stretch out beneath him, lips curling into a playful smirk. “Only if you promise to bring your motorcycle again.”

His eyes darken instantly, with a wicked glint. “Mmm, that’s a damn good idea.” He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Next time, I’m making you come twice before we even think about getting off that bike.”

You bite your lip, pulse quickening. “Sounds like a plan.”

He grins smugly. “Nah, baby…that sounds like a date.”

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[edenarchives]

♯┆𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 .ᐟ — 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐒

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: hawks is desperate. rutting. drowning in instincts he can’t control. when someone finally tells him about the underground pleasure worker known only as the siren, he knows he shouldn’t… but he books her anyway. and by the time the night is over, he’s ruined — body, mind, and soul.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: rut!hawks, mating press, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, sub!hawks, begging, reader using pleasure quirk, cumplay (lots of cum), prostate fingering, reader is a private escort, power play, light degradation, praise kink, filthy language, soft aftercare, explicit smut, 18+ ONLY! Don’t like it? Don’t read it.

𝐖𝐂: 5.3k

No one knew your real name.

No one dared to ask.

In this world — in the underbelly of heroes and villains and everything in between — you were only known as her.

The one people whispered about in dark corners of bars.

The one you booked if you had money to burn and no shame to spare.

The one who could ruin you with a touch.

The Siren.

You weren’t a fighter.

You weren’t a hero, or a villain.

You were something far more dangerous. Far more addictive.

Your quirk? Pleasure.

A useless trick on the battlefield, sure — but in the right setting?

It made you unstoppable.

You could make someone shatter with a single brush of your fingers.

Could make them ache, whimper, beg with just a look — a single glance when you let your power bloom and your eyes glowed that soft, damning pink.

And people would pay.

God, would they pay.

Heroes, villains, celebrities, CEOs — the desperate, the lonely, the powerful.

It didn’t matter who.

If they had enough cash to pay your price — and they understood your rules — they could have a taste.

A taste of the best orgasms of their life.

A taste of something they’d never find anywhere else.

You lived private. Alone. Clean.

Bookings were done through encrypted emails, references required, and half the money wired before you even agreed to a meeting.

You didn’t do relationships. You didn’t do repeats unless they paid triple.

You didn’t do love.

You were a professional.

And tonight?

You were waiting for a client who, frankly, you weren’t sure could even handle you.

You lounged in the hotel suite, high above the city skyline, bathed in the cool silver of the moonlight bleeding through the glass walls.

A silk robe slid off one bare shoulder, the delicate sheen of lotion on your skin catching the light, every inch of you prepared like a weapon.

You’d heard of him, of course.

Hawks. Keigo Takami. The Winged Hero.

Charming. Flirtatious. Powerful.

But under all that easygoing bravado?

You knew the truth.

You knew what it meant when a creature like him went into rut — deep, animalistic instincts, a biological need to mate and breed and fuck until there was nothing left but empty, mindless satisfaction.

You knew what he was coming here for.

And you knew he wouldn’t leave the same.

You smiled to yourself, stretching lazily across the bed, waiting.

Another desperate soul about to lose himself on your body.

Another man about to learn that pleasure could be a weapon too.

You didn’t have to wait long.

The door clicked.

Soft. Barely a sound.

But you heard it anyway, the quiet shift of the air as the hotel suite’s lock disengaged.

You stayed stretched across the bed, utterly at ease, as the figure stepped inside.

Hawks.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t say a word.

You simply watched — and let him be the first to fall.

He was taller in person.

Broader, too.

Golden eyes sharp even under the heavy exhaustion dragging down his body. His wings, usually proud and preened, were ruffled and heavy behind him — tired. Restless.

He was suffering.

And god, was he trying to hide it.

He rolled his shoulders, casual, cocky — the way you’d seen him do in a thousand interviews — and flashed you a grin.

But it faltered.

Just for a second.

When his eyes raked over you, splayed out in silk and skin and knowing smiles.

When he realized you weren’t just some pretty thing he could flirt with and charm into bed.

You were a professional.

You were a weapon.

And he was already so, so fucked.

“Well,” Hawks drawled, voice rougher than you expected, buried under something feral and raw, “gotta say — pictures don’t do you justice, sweetheart.”

You smiled lazily, uncrossing your legs slow enough that the silk of your robe slipped higher up your thighs.

“Pictures?” you echoed, voice syrupy sweet. “Baby, no one gets pictures of me.”

His throat bobbed.

You saw it.

The way his hands twitched at his sides.

The way his wings flared just a little, ruffling anxiously, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

You tilted your head.

Let your quirk pulse.

Just a little.

Just a taste.

The pink glow flickered to life in your eyes, soft and subtle.

And that was all it took.

Hawks stumbled — literally, just for a second, like his knees went weak — one hand bracing against the wall.

“Fuck—” he rasped out, barely more than a whisper.

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile.

He was close.

Already so close to snapping.

The rut was right there under his skin, vibrating in every muscle, every twitch of his wings.

“Take off your jacket, bird boy,” you said, voice low and commanding.

“You’re burning up.”

He obeyed without thinking.

Shrugged out of it with jerky movements, dropping the heavy leather onto the floor like it weighed a thousand pounds.

Underneath, he wore nothing but a simple black shirt — soaked through at the collar from sweat, clinging to the lines of muscle that flexed as he shifted, restless and overwhelmed.

You sat up slowly, legs sliding over the side of the bed.

Bare feet kissed the soft rug.

A few steps forward, smooth and slow.

You let your fingers trail along his chest, the heat of his skin radiating through the thin fabric.

His breathing hitched — sharp, ragged.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides like he was holding himself back by a thread.

“You’re so tense,” you murmured, almost mockingly sweet.

“You need me, don’t you?”

He made a choked noise — half laugh, half whimper — and dropped his forehead against yours like he physically couldn’t stand the distance anymore.

“I’m—”

He tried. God, he tried to say something cocky.

But it broke.

Splintered under the weight of his instincts.

“I’m fucking losing it,” he gasped, grinding his hips forward without meaning to — cock already rock hard against the front of his pants, leaking, desperate.

“Please. Please, I—”

You shushed him softly, stroking his cheek, thumb brushing over his flushed skin.

“You don’t have to talk, pretty bird,” you whispered against his lips.

“Just let me take care of you.”

You let your quirk flood into him then — full force — a rush of molten heat crashing through his body, every nerve ending igniting all at once.

Pleasure. Need. Desperation.

Hawks snapped.

With a strangled, broken noise, he lifted you off your feet, carried you to the bed like you weighed nothing, and threw you down onto the mattress with a growl so deep it rattled in his chest.

And before you could even blink —

he was on you.

Feral. Wild.

Mouth crashing against yours in a messy, desperate kiss, hips rutting against your thigh like he couldn’t even wait to be inside you.

Hands everywhere — grabbing, clawing, tearing your robe open — like he needed to feel every inch of you against him right the fuck now or he was going to lose his goddamn mind.

His rut had taken over.

And you were about to find out just how badly the number two hero could break when he needed you more than he needed to breathe.

His mouth was everywhere.

Dragging over your throat, your collarbone, your chest — desperate, open-mouthed kisses, like he needed to taste every inch of you before he burned alive.

You laid there, still, patient, letting him.

Letting him ruin himself against your skin.

And the wildest part?

You hadn’t even used your touch yet.

Hadn’t even really started.

All you had done was look at him.

A little glow, a little tease — and already he was crumbling.

“Need you…” he mumbled against your skin, voice shaking, almost slurred with need.

“Fuck, need you so bad, baby, please, please—”

You hummed softly, stroking a hand lazily through his hair — not activating your quirk, not yet — just soothing him, letting him sink deeper into the hunger clawing through his body.

His hips were rutting against your bare thigh now, frantic little thrusts he couldn’t even stop, cock so hard you were sure it hurt.

Soaking through his pants.

Dragging messy, desperate friction against you like he didn’t even care anymore.

“You’re drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy,” Hawks gasped, biting gently at your shoulder, panting like he’d run a marathon.

“You don’t even gotta touch me… fuck, you’re killin’ me…”

His fingers found your hips, digging in hard enough to leave marks, dragging your body up to meet the rough grind of his cock like he was trying to mate with you through sheer force alone.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against your chest like he needed the contact to breathe.

“Can’t… can’t think, baby, just— just wanna feel you. Need you. Fuck— need you to make me cum, please—”

You watched him.

Carefully.

Cruelly.

Letting him drown in it.

Letting him humiliate himself, rut against you like a desperate animal, gasping and begging and rubbing his cock against your skin like he might cum just from that alone.

And you still hadn’t even touched him properly yet.

He was breaking.

And it was only the beginning.

You shifted just slightly under him, a slow, calculated roll of your hips — and he whimpered.

The sound was pure, raw, unfiltered need — high and broken, leaking from his throat without permission — like he couldn’t even pretend to be a cocky hero anymore.

Not here.

Not under you.

“Please,” Hawks gasped, grinding his cock against your thigh even harder, faster, chasing the friction like a man possessed.

“I-I can’t— please, just— lemme cum, lemme cum, baby, fuck, please—”

You smiled softly, almost pitying.

He was so close it hurt.

The front of his pants was soaked, a dark, sticky patch spreading bigger with every desperate thrust against your bare skin.

You could feel him — throbbing, leaking, aching — and all you had to do was lay there and let him ruin himself.

“You poor thing,” you cooed, stroking his messy hair back from his flushed, sweaty face.

“You’re trying so hard.”

He let out a desperate, choked sob, his body trembling against yours.

“Need you,” he whimpered again, hips stuttering, rutting faster and faster, losing every ounce of composure he ever had.

“Fuck, please— please, gonna cum, gonna fucking—”

And then he did.

Hawks shattered with a hoarse, broken cry, hips jerking helplessly against you as he came hard in his pants — hot, wet, messy — soaking through the thin fabric, soaking your thigh, his whole body shaking with the force of it.

He slumped against you, panting, shivering, cock still twitching against your skin, painfully hard even after spilling inside his clothes.

Already overstimulated.

Already wrecked.

And still needing more.

Still twitching, grinding weakly like his instincts wouldn’t even let him stop.

“Not enough,” Hawks whimpered, voice rough and wrecked against your skin.

“Please— need you— need your pussy— please, baby, need it so bad—”

You almost laughed.

Almost.

You cupped his face gently, thumb brushing over his trembling lips, and tilted his chin up until he was staring at you with wide, desperate, glassy eyes.

“You came already,” you said sweetly, voice dripping with false sympathy.

“You couldn’t even handle a little grinding, pretty bird.”

He shook his head frantically, tears brimming in the corners of his gold eyes.

“Can do better,” he rasped, words slurred from need.

“Swear— swear I can— just, just please— let me fuck you— lemme fill you up, please, please—”

God, he was pathetic.

Pathetic and perfect.

And he didn’t even realize, you hadn’t even touched him properly yet.

You hadn’t even used your real quirk, your hands — the real drug.

Not yet.

But maybe…

Maybe it was time to start breaking him for real.

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it, while Hawks lay there — slumped against you, shivering, panting, his soaked cock still grinding helplessly against your thigh even though he had just cum.

Desperate.

Ruined.

Pathetic.

And still begging for more.

You let your fingers trail lazily down his chest, featherlight, just enough to make him shudder, to make his hips twitch up chasing your hand like a starving thing.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you sighed dramatically, clicking your tongue as if you were bored.

“Otherwise I’d let you hump my leg all night like a pathetic little mutt.”

He whimpered, whimpered — the sound leaking out of him shamefully, hips bucking up again.

The front of his pants was disgusting now, soaked, sticky, filthy, and still, his cock strained against it, hard and twitching like he hadn’t cum at all.

“You want to cum again, baby bird?” you purred, letting your hand brush lower, fingertips ghosting just above the waistband of his ruined pants.

“Please,” he gasped, golden eyes glassy and wide, wings trembling behind him like they couldn’t hold still anymore.

“Fuck, please, anything— anything you want— just need it, need you—”

You smiled sweetly.

Without a word, you slid your hand down, slow, slow, agonizing, palming the sticky mess between his legs, feeling how hard and leaking he still was even through the soaked fabric.

He sobbed against your skin, hips jerking up into your hand like he couldn’t control it.

You stroked him lazily through his pants.

Long, slow drags of your palm over the thick length of him, teasing, light, cruel.

Not using your quirk.

Not yet.

Just making him suffer.

“You’re such a mess,” you murmured, almost fondly.

“Heroes aren’t supposed to be this pathetic, you know. What would they say if they saw you like this? Rutting against a whore’s hand like a needy little thing?”

He moaned.

Actually moaned at your words, hips stuttering up again, cock twitching under your palm.

You pressed harder, slow grinding strokes, watching him fall apart for you.

Drooling. Whimpering. Sweating.

“Poor baby,” you whispered against his ear.

“You’re not gonna last even a minute inside me, are you?”

“I can— I can, please—!” Hawks gasped out, voice breaking, desperate and ragged.

“Swear, I’ll be good, I’ll make you feel good, just— please— I need your pussy— I need it so bad—”

You laughed softly.

Low. Dangerous.

Finally, finally, you pulled your hand back, slowly undid the button of his ruined pants, dragged the zipper down with a loud, teasing sound that made him shudder from head to toe.

You freed him from the sticky, ruined fabric — his cock slapping up against his stomach, flushed an angry red, twitching, drooling precum everywhere.

God, he was beautiful like this.

Ruined. Wild. Broken.

And still yours to destroy.

You wrapped your fingers loosely around his shaft, soft, slow, teasing strokes, watching him shudder and buck into your hand like he couldn’t control himself.

“Feels good?” you murmured sweetly.

“Y-yeah,” he whimpered, voice hoarse, hips twitching.

“Good,” you whispered.

And then…then you activated your quirk.

Only a little.

Just the tiniest, tiniest push.

A little glow to your touch.

A little pulse of pleasure, barely there.

Barely anything compared to what you could really do.

And Hawks screamed.

A raw, broken sound ripped out of his chest — back arching off the bed, cock pulsing violently in your hand, as he came again immediately, violently, without even warning, thick white ropes spilling all over your hand, his stomach, the sheets.

He twitched and sobbed through it, hips jerking weakly, clinging to you like he thought he might die from how good it felt.

When it finally stopped, when he was lying there, twitching, panting, a ruined fucking mess, you leaned down close to his ear, smirking.

“Poor baby bird,” you whispered.

He whimpered weakly, trying to buck up into your hand again even as his body shook from overstimulation.

You squeezed him gently, still half-hard, still twitching, still so pathetically needy, and laughed low in your throat.

“We’re just getting started,” you promised.

“Now be a good boy—”

You straddled his hips, dragging your soaked pussy along his cock, slow, teasing.

“—and show me how many times you can break for me tonight.”

His golden eyes fluttered open, wrecked, desperate, and he nodded frantically, hands grabbing at your hips like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you even for a second longer.

“Please,” he gasped.

“Please, need you, need to feel you— wanna fill you up— wanna breed you— fuck, fuck, please—”

You smiled down at him sweetly.

And finally, finally, you began to sink down onto him.

And Hawks lost his mind all over again.

You sank down on him slow, excruciatingly slow — letting him feel every inch as you stretched around his thick, twitching cock.

He sobbed against your chest, arms clinging to you like you might disappear if he let go.

“F-fuck— oh fuck— you’re so warm— so tight—” he gasped, tears leaking from the corners of his golden eyes.

“Please, please—”

You shushed him softly, brushing his messy blond hair back, rolling your hips lazily once you were fully seated.

Still not using your full quirk.

Still only giving him a taste — a sweet, burning heat that made his cock pulse inside you but left him wanting, needing more.

He bucked up instinctively, trying to fuck up into you, but you pressed a firm hand to his lower stomach, holding him down with barely any effort.

“Patience, baby bird,” you cooed, rocking your hips in slow, teasing circles.

“You’ll get what you need… eventually.”

He let out a broken whine, hips twitching uselessly under your hand, cock throbbing pathetically inside your tight, dripping walls.

You could feel every desperate twitch, every shudder, every frantic attempt to cum again — and you denied him, over and over and over.

“Please—!” he sobbed, voice wrecked.

“Need you— need to cum— need to fill you up, please—!”

You smiled sweetly, cupping his flushed cheek, activating your quirk just enough to make his body jolt with pleasure — a cruel tease, a flash of overwhelming bliss — before pulling it back again.

He cried.

Real tears this time.

Golden eyes wide and pleading, tears slipping down his cheeks as he tried to thrust up into you again, helpless and broken.

“Please, please, please—” he begged, voice hoarse.

“Can’t— can’t take it— need you— need to fuck you— need to breed you—”

You leaned down close to his ear, dragging your hips agonizingly slow over his cock, squeezing around him just enough to make him scream.

“Poor thing,” you whispered, almost pitying.

“You wanna fill me up that bad, baby bird? Wanna stuff me full of your cum?”

“Yes—!” he sobbed, hands clutching at your hips like he could force you to move faster.

“Please, let me, need to— need to put a baby in you— need to—”

You laughed low in your throat, cruel and sweet.

“You’re not even close to earning that yet.”

You rocked your hips again, slow, dragging friction, and activated your quirk again, another little spark of devastating pleasure, just enough to make him twitch and spill a little precum deep inside you.

Hawks snapped.

With a savage growl that barely sounded human, he grabbed your waist, talons digging into your skin, and flipped you over onto your back, wings flaring wide behind him like a beast finally off its leash.

“Mine,” he snarled, voice wrecked and broken, gold eyes burning down at you with wild, feral hunger.

“You’re mine.”

You barely had time to smirk before he hooked your legs over his shoulders, forcing your knees to your chest, a mating press — pinning you down into the mattress under his full weight.

And then he was slamming into you, brutal, deep, desperate thrusts, fucking into you so hard you could feel the bedframe creaking under the force.

He wasn’t trying to hold back anymore.

He wasn’t trying to be gentle.

He wasn’t thinking at all.

Pure, raw rut.

“Mine— mine— mine—!” he chanted under his breath, every thrust punching filthy noises out of you, his cock so deep you could feel him in your belly.

You cried out, hands scrabbling at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his sweat-slick skin as he pounded into you like he was trying to breed you into the bed.

“Fuck— so good— you’re so fucking perfect—” he gasped, pressing his forehead against yours, golden eyes wild and hazy.

“Need to cum inside— need to make you mine— need to fill you up— fuck, fuck, gonna cum—”

And this time, this time, you activated your quirk fully.

Pleasure rushed through him like an explosion — violent, overwhelming, pure ecstasy, and Hawks screamed into your mouth as he came hard, hips jerking wildly, cock pulsing deep inside you as he spilled hot, endless streams of cum against your womb.

You felt it — the heat, the volume, the desperate way he kept thrusting even as he emptied himself, chasing every last drop inside you.

He didn’t stop.

Even after his cock finished pulsing, even after he spilled everything he had into you — Hawks kept thrusting, frantic, shallow thrusts, like he physically couldn’t stop, like his body was wired to keep chasing you until you broke too.

You laid there underneath him, pinned under his weight, legs folded tight against your chest, the mating press locking you in place — letting him rut desperately into your soaked, overstimulated pussy.

“Baby, please—” he gasped against your throat, voice ragged and wrecked, pressing frantic kisses anywhere he could reach.

“Please— feels so good— please, please don’t stop—!”

You smiled lazily, stroking the back of his sweat-soaked neck, feeling how he shuddered under your touch.

“You’re such a good boy,” you whispered, voice syrupy sweet.

“Begging so pretty for me.”

He whimpered, his hips jerking up into you, cock still twitching pathetically deep inside, already trying to get hard again even though he hadn’t stopped.

“Please,” Hawks sobbed, broken beyond repair now, gold eyes hazy and teary as he tried to thrust harder, chasing the unbearable pleasure.

“Need it— need your quirk again…never felt like this— fuck, please, baby, use it on me— need it, need to feel it—!”

You giggled, evil and soft, squeezing your walls around him teasingly, making him sob harder.

“You’re that addicted already?” you teased.

“And I’ve barely even touched you yet, pretty bird.”

“Please, fuck, please, I’ll do anything,” Hawks cried, hips stuttering helplessly, wings flapping weakly behind him from pure overstimulation.

“Please, please, lemme feel you cum— need you to cum— need you to milk my cock, please, wanna feel you— wanna feel your pussy cum around me—!”

God, he was a mess.

You tilted your head, pretending to think, rolling your hips up into his desperately rutting cock, dragging another broken gasp from his lips.

“You wanna feel me cum around you, baby bird?” you purred, eyes glowing faint pink as you stroked a hand down his trembling back.

“You want me to break you even more?”

“Yes—! Please, please, need it, baby, need you—!” Hawks gasped, rutting up into you with frantic, broken little thrusts, his cock twitching deep inside your soaked cunt.

You smiled — slow, dangerous, indulgent — and finally, finally decided to be merciful.

You slid one hand down between your bodies, fingers finding your own swollen, throbbing clit.

Still pinned under him, still locked in the mating press, you started rubbing slow, tight circles over yourself — adding just the right pressure, teasing yourself closer to the edge.

And as you did it — you activated your quirk.

On yourself.

A sweet, slow pulse of pure, molten pleasure flooded through your nerves, curling low in your belly, making your pussy clamp down tight around his desperate, overstimulated cock.

Hawks screamed — a wrecked, broken sound — feeling your walls fluttering and squeezing around him, feeling the way you got tighter, wetter, hotter with every desperate rub of your fingers.

“Fuck— fuck— baby, please, please— wanna feel it, wanna feel you cum—!” he sobbed, voice shattering as he rutted helplessly into you.

“Please, let me feel you, baby, please cum on my cock— please, need it, need it—”

You moaned low in your throat — letting yourself fall apart just slow enough to drag it out — rubbing your clit harder, faster, feeding the pleasure through your body, through his cock, until you couldn’t hold back anymore.

Your orgasm hit like a bomb.

You cried out, clenching hard around him, your whole body shuddering under the overwhelming wave of pleasure — your walls fluttering, squeezing, milking him — your quirk amplifying every ripple of ecstasy.

And Hawks —

Hawks fucking exploded.

He came again, harder and deeper this time — a broken scream ripped from his lungs as his hips jerked violently, stuffing you full of another thick, endless flood of cum.

Hot. Sticky. Messy.

Overflowing.

He collapsed against you, wings twitching weakly, cock still buried deep inside, twitching with the aftershocks.

You held him there, arms around his trembling back, nails scratching soothingly down his spine, while he sobbed quietly into your neck, his body still desperately thrusting little, pathetic, overstimulated rolls of his hips like he couldn’t stop even if he tried.

“Good boy,” you whispered against his ear, still gently rubbing slow circles over your clit, making your walls twitch and flutter around his spent, leaking cock.

“You came so good for me, baby bird.”

“Y-you too—” he whimpered, clinging tighter, voice shaking.

“Felt you— felt you cum— fuck, so good— so fucking good—”

You giggled softly, kissing the top of his head.

And he moaned, a soft, weak, wrecked sound while still rutting helplessly into you, still chasing you even as his body trembled from exhaustion.

He finally collapsed beside you, his body giving out, panting harshly, moaning softly with every little twitch of his hips.

You turned your head to look at him…God, he was ruined.

Hair plastered to his forehead, gold eyes half-lidded and glassy, lips swollen from where he’d bitten them raw.

And his cock?

Still hard.

Still twitching pathetically against his belly, slick with both your juices and the endless cum he kept stuffing you with.

The sheets beneath you were soaked.

Sticky. Messy.

You could feel it leaking out of you, hot and thick, dripping down your thighs, pooling beneath your ass, so much that it had completely ruined the expensive mattress.

And still…

Still, he was looking at you like a kicked puppy.

Panting, whining, silently begging for more even though his whole body was trembling from exhaustion.

You laughed softly under your breath.

Pitiful.

Perfect.

“One more, baby bird,” you whispered sweetly, crawling between his trembling legs.

“Just one more.”

He whimpered, a soft, needy sound and let his legs fall open for you without even thinking, without even questioning.

You wrapped your hand around his slick cock, no quirk, no tricks, just a slow, steady stroke.

And god, he twitched violently under your touch, a broken little whine spilling out of him, hips jerking weakly off the bed even though he had nothing left to give.

“You’re so sensitive, aren’t you?” you cooed, stroking him slow, teasing, just enough to keep him right there, whimpering and trembling under your hand.

“So good for me, baby. So easy.”

He gasped and nodded weakly, tears brimming in his eyes again, hands fisting the ruined sheets at his sides.

You smiled.

And then without warning, you slid your hand down between your own legs.

Felt the mess he had left inside you, still hot, still dripping, and scooped it up with your fingers, gathering as much of it as you could.

He watched you with wide, dazed eyes, too fucked out to even ask what you were doing, as you brought your cum-slick fingers back up, glistening in the low light.

You stroked his cock again with one hand, and with the other, you pressed two cum-slick fingers against his tight, untouched hole.

He whimpered, high and broken as you slowly worked one finger inside him, using his own cum as lube.

“Relax, baby,” you whispered against his trembling thigh.

“Let me make you feel good.”

He sobbed quietly, body shuddering, hips twitching helplessly as you pushed deeper, curling your finger just right, searching, until you found it.

His prostate.

You rubbed it gently, soft, slow, maddening circles, while still stroking his cock, watching as Hawks completely unraveled for you.

He couldn’t stop moaning.

Couldn’t stop begging.

Broken little cries spilling from his lips like he didn’t even know he was doing it.

“Please— fuck— please, more— need it— need you—” he whimpered, hips jerking weakly, so overstimulated he was trembling head to toe.

And then, you stopped stroking his cock.

Letting it throb, untouched, while you kept fingering him deep and slow.

He cried out loud, desperate, hips grinding helplessly, trying to fuck himself into your hand.

And that’s when you turned your quirk back on.

Just your fingers.

Just enough to flood his body with another unbearable wave of pleasure, targeted, precise, devastating.

You pressed against his prostate, quirk activated, and watched as Hawks’ whole body seized, his back arching off the bed, golden wings flaring wide, head thrown back in a silent scream.

He was fisting the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white, body stiff, shaking violently and then he was cumming again, untouched, untouched, untouched — thick, hot spurts spilling over his stomach, over your hand, over the ruined sheets.

He moaned and sobbed through it, his body trembling violently as his cock twitched and spilled everything he had left.

Overstimulated. Wrecked. Broken.

And he loved it.

Loved every fucking second of it.

When it finally ended, when his body finally slumped back against the bed, twitching and whimpering, you slid your fingers out of him slowly, gently, wiping them on the soaked sheets without a care.

You crawled up beside him, smiling sweetly.

And Hawks? Hawks immediately curled into you, still gasping, still shivering, burying his face against your chest like he couldn’t stand to be even an inch away.

You stroked his hair, lazy and slow, while he whimpered quietly against your skin.

“Good boy,” you whispered against his temple, kissing him softly.

“You did so good for me, baby bird.”

He sobbed weakly, but it was a happy sound this time.

Relieved.

Wrecked.

Hawks clung to you even as he drifted.

Still trembling, still twitching every few seconds — little, helpless spasms through his ruined, spent body.

You stroked his hair slowly, feeling him sink deeper into the mattress, breath hitching less and less, golden wings drooping heavy across the bed.

“That’s it, baby bird,” you whispered against his forehead.

“Sleep now.”

He tried to mumble something, your name maybe, a broken plea for more, but it faded into a soft, exhausted whimper before he passed out completely.

You smiled fondly.

Carefully, slow, gentle, practiced, you eased yourself out of his arms, ignoring the slick mess between your thighs, the soaked, ruined sheets beneath you.

You grabbed the heavy blanket from the edge of the bed and tucked it around him, cocooning him safely.

He curled into it immediately, into the lingering warmth of your body, nuzzling the pillow you left behind like a man still dreaming of you.

You laughed under your breath.

On the small hotel desk, you found the stationary and scribbled a quick note, folding it once and leaving it tucked under the heavy glass ashtray.

Thanks for the fun, pretty bird. You know where to find me next time your rut rolls around.

You tucked a soft curl of hair behind your ear, straightened your robe, and checked your phone.

Payment: Received.

Account balance: Updated.

Another successful night.

Another hero broken to pieces in your hands.

Another bag secured.

You smiled lazily to yourself, heels clicking against the marble floor as you slipped out the door, disappearing into the velvet night without a trace.

Already wondering, already excited, who would be desperate enough to call for you next?

[marksbear2]

Don’t know if you’re taking requests rn or even for this character but Pietro maximoff x male reader headcanons? Can be sfw or nsfw (if nsfw top male reader please)

Pietro Maximoff x Top male reader

⚠️Warnings!!⚠️— SFW at the top NSFW at the bottom. Romantic and cute at the top then freaky at the bottom.

— Pietro can be impulsive and reckless at times, but when it comes to you, he’s surprisingly protective. He’s always the first to step in if anyone tries to hurt or insult you, even if it means risking his own safety.

— Pietro loves to tease you, often using his super-speed to steal your things or make you chase after him. He finds it adorable when you get a little frustrated, but deep down, he knows he’s only playing.

— Despite his fast-paced nature, Pietro enjoys quiet moments with you—whether it's laying on the couch together, talking about your day, or just holding your hand while watching a movie. He finds calm in being near you, especially after a stressful mission.

— Even though he might seem like the cocky, thrill-seeking type, Pietro knows when to slow down and listen. If you ever feel overwhelmed, he’s there to talk, offering a kind word or making you laugh with his wit to take your mind off things.

— You and Pietro often have fun little races, whether on foot, with vehicles, or just seeing who can get to the kitchen first. Of course, he always wins, but the challenge is part of the fun, and he’ll playfully boast about his victory.

— People often see Pietro as a fast, brash hero, but with you, he lets his softer side shine through. He’s a sucker for small gestures like holding hands, giving you little surprise gifts, or cooking breakfast for you after a long night.

— Pietro can be a bit possessive when it comes to you, though he doesn’t always show it outwardly. If someone flirts with you or gets too close, he might speed up to your side or subtly brush it off with a teasing remark, but deep down, he’s a little jealous.

— When you’re sick or injured, Pietro is more than just quick to act—he’s incredibly attentive. He’ll keep you company, fetch you anything you need in a flash, and insist on staying close, even if you tell him you’re fine.

— One of the best parts of your relationship is the playful banter. Pietro loves to challenge you mentally and joke around, often throwing out sarcastic remarks, but always with a grin that lets you know he’s joking.

— Sometimes, Pietro doesn’t need to say anything to show how much he cares. He’ll watch you from across the room, his eyes softening when you’re busy doing something you love, or just casually brushing against you in passing, showing his affection without words.

NSFW BELOW

— He’s sucking your dick at super speed. He tries to go as fast as he can to make you cum quick to tease you afterwards how you only lasted a few seconds, he’s also jerking you off using his powers just to abruptly stop before you cum.

— Very needy, he’s always suggesting you two should sneak off and have sex somewhere.

— His biggest kink is dry humping, you two making out while just humping each others dick against one another. Feeling your bulge against his own crotch or it being pressed against his ass is enough to get him going, though he’s impatient during foreplay.

— He’s very loud, he would be whining and moaning mumbling words in Russian or English, begging for your cock and you to be faster. He likes it rough, rough and as hard as you can go.

— Since he’s impatient he’s very bad at edging. Whenever he tries to edge, he gets frustrated immediately wanting to cum. Even if your edging him he’ll cum all over himself the moment your all the way inside of him.

— He also likes getting choked or anything kinky, it sends his body thrills whenever your hands wrap around his throat while you force your cock deeply inside of him. He’ll be gasping while a smirk on his face. Pull his hair or slap him with your cock he loves anything you give him and will take it.

— Lots of times the reason why you two have sex so often is because he’s a really easily jealous man. He’ll make it clear that he jealous and would want sex with you in order to remind himself that yours his. He’ll mark your body with hickeys and bites.

— He loves riding your cock. He likes to take things at his own pace, holding onto your thighs to balance himself as he fucks himself down on your cock. He’ll be moaning his ass off calling your name and whatever pet name you like.

— He’ll also praise you and worship your cock, even when moaning and rambling in Russian, he’s obsessed with your cock. He becomes stupid the moment he sees your cock.

— He also likes to have sex ag night, it’s the mischievous feeling the fact that the bed shaking and him moaning your name super loud which is probably causing the neighbors not to get much sleep it excites him. He would tell the world how much he loves you and you fucking him. He’ll be louder every time someone complains about the noise.

THE END

[oatzui]

Game Over

Shigaraki x Hero!Reader

18+ ONLY

NSFW, aphrodisiac use, repeated nonconsensual drugging, heavy dubcon themes, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, degradation, restraint, possessive/obsessive behavior, breeding kink

“You look better in chains than in a hero uniform.”

Shigaraki’s voice cut through the silence like a blade, low and smug as he crouched in front of you. The cold metal cuffs dug into your wrists, locked behind the chair, the edge of your costume torn from the earlier fight.

“You’re insane,” you spat, jaw tight, eyes refusing to meet his. “You’re not going to get anything out of this.”

“Oh, I already have.” His grin stretched wide, pale fingers pushing his hair back. “The look on your face when you realized no one was coming to save you? Fucking priceless.”

You glared harder, trying to ignore the way he looked at you—like he’d already claimed you. Like you weren’t a prisoner. Like you were his.

“Let’s not pretend,” he said, standing, fingers trailing along the side of your neck. You flinched. “You’ve been on my radar since that mess in Kamino. All that righteous posturing—made me wonder how long it’d take to break that pretty little mask.”

“You’re delusional.”

He leaned in, breath hot against your ear. “I’m hard.”

You froze.

“I could fuck you right here,” he continued, tone almost casual. “And no one would stop me. Not your sidekicks. Not your agency. Not even you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Try it and I’ll bite your throat out.”

His laugh was breathy, too amused for the situation. “That’s what I like about you. You’re still fighting even when you’ve already lost.”

He pulled away—only to reach down and undo his belt, slow and deliberate.

“Shigaraki—”

“You’ll hate it at first. That’s okay. I’ll still make you cum.”

Your breath hitched. He caught it.

“See?” he murmured. “You’re scared. Turned on. Confused. That’s what makes this fun.”

Your legs stayed clamped together even when he pushed your knees apart. He didn’t rush. He let you squirm.

“Don’t worry,” he said, unzipping his pants. “I’m not just gonna fuck you. I’m gonna fill you up. Breed you nice and deep. That hero bloodline of yours? I want to corrupt it.”

He yanked the fabric of your suit aside and sank to his knees. “I’ll make you beg for it, Y/N. And when I cum inside you, you’ll thank me.”

You didn’t believe him. You should have.

-

You noticed it too late.

The water had tasted off—metallic, maybe. You hadn’t trusted it, but dehydration was a bitch, and you’d only taken a sip.

Now your skin burned. Your chest rose and fell too fast. Your thighs were clenched tight, and heat curled deep in your gut, dizzying and wrong. Your hands were still cuffed behind you, and Shigaraki was watching—waiting.

“You feel it kicking in?” he asked, voice casual. “That heat in your stomach? That ache between your legs?”

You jerked against the chair, heart pounding.

“What the hell did you give me?”

“Something fun.” He stood, stretching his back before stalking toward you. “Well, for me. You get to squirm.”

He crouched in front of you, eyes gleaming red in the dim light. His fingers pushed your legs apart, and you hated how easy they went.

“It’s cruel, isn’t it?” he murmured. “Your brain’s screaming no, but your body’s already begging.”

“F-fuck you,” you hissed through clenched teeth.

Shigaraki smiled like you’d just moaned his name. “You will.”

He slid your ruined hero suit up past your hips, exposing you completely. Cool air hit your soaked cunt and you squirmed in the chair, breathing hard.

“Look at this mess,” he said, running a single finger along your slit. “All this for me?”

You shook your head, but your thighs trembled.

“It’s the drug—”

“No,” he whispered, dipping two fingers inside you, “this is you. The drug just let it out.”

You cried out, hips bucking helplessly as he fucked you slow, his palm grinding against your clit. The aphrodisiac was in full effect now—every nerve hypersensitive, your body on fire, desperate for friction.

“I could do anything to you right now,” he said, voice low. “You’d take it. You’d love it.”

“I hate you,” you choked out.

He grinned. “Then why are you clenching around my fingers like you want to cum?”

You couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t think. The orgasm hit like a lightning strike, raw and helpless. You came with a broken moan, body twitching, drenched and soaked and ruined.

But Shigaraki didn’t stop.

He stood, pulled his cock out—already hard and leaking—and lined it up with your dripping cunt.

“I want you fucked open for me. I want your body to beg for my cum.”

You sobbed as he pushed in—slow and deep. The stretch was too much, too good, too needed.

You hated how badly you wanted it.

“You’re mine now,” he growled, pounding into you. “I’ll drug you, fuck you, breed you—every goddamn day until you forget what it meant to be a hero.”

And you’d scream.

And you’d cum.

And you’d take every drop.

-

You lost track of time.

It could’ve been hours. Could’ve been days. There were no windows in that room. Just concrete walls, a bed, a chair, and him.

And the heat.

God, the heat—deep in your belly, between your legs, thick in your throat. Every time it faded, he made you drink more. Water laced with something sweet and sickening that turned your body into a weapon against itself.

The aphrodisiac didn’t just make you wet. It made you starve. Made every breath feel like foreplay, made your clit throb with nothing touching it. It made the sound of his boots across the floor enough to make you twitch.

And Shigaraki knew. He knew what it did. That was the point.

He didn’t even need the cuffs anymore. You stopped trying to run.

You couldn’t.

“Look at you,” he murmured, pulling your thighs apart again, watching more of his cum drip from between your legs. “So cockdumb you’re not even fighting anymore.”

You blinked up at him from the bed, dazed, your body slick with sweat. “I… I can’t—”

He silenced you with two fingers down your throat and his cock pressing back in with a low growl.

“You’re gonna take it again,” he muttered. “You’ll take every fucking drop until your cunt knows what it’s for.”

Your body welcomed him. Even as you sobbed, even as your thighs trembled and your stomach ached, your pussy clenched around him like it wanted it.

“Good little hero,” he whispered, slow-thrusting. “Just needed a chemical push to realize where you belong.”

You moaned—broken, soft, shameful.

He sped up.

“You’ve cum, what—six times today? Ten? Don’t even remember, do you?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Just grabbed your hips and drove into you harder, deeper, until the slapping sounds echoed off the walls and your voice was nothing but a wrecked cry.

“Your brain’s fried. You don’t even know your own name,” he hissed. “But you know my cock. Your pussy knows who owns it.”

You came again—violent and desperate, thighs spasming. He followed a second later, grinding deep as he filled you with another thick load.

And then—

The bottle.

He tilted it toward your lips again.

“No—please—” you whimpered, trying to turn away.

But his hand grabbed your jaw, forced you to drink. You choked on it, coughed—but it was already too late. The heat began to creep back in.

“You’re not done,” he said, watching your eyes go glassy again. “Not until I knock you up.”

You cried into the mattress as his fingers slid back between your legs, playing with his cum as it leaked out, pushing it back in.

“One more round, sweetheart,” he whispered. “And then we start again.”

-

Your body doesn’t know how to stop begging.

Not out loud—you stopped doing that ages ago. Your throat’s raw, voice cracked. But your hips are still moving. Still grinding back against him even after he’s already filled you twice. Still clenching around his cock like your cunt wants this.

Shigaraki knows it. Sees it. And it makes him laugh.

“You’re such a mess,” he mutters, watching his cock sink back inside you with ease—your slick coating every inch, his cum dripping from your spent hole, pooling on the mattress. “Didn’t even need to drug you this much. Your body was waiting for this.”

You can’t answer. Not with words. Just a soft whimper as he bottoms out again, cock pressing into overstretched heat. Your back arches instinctively—muscles twitching, brain fogged and drowning in heat.

“I could fuck you forever like this,” he groans, hips grinding slow and deep. “Soft. Open. Stupid.”

He thrusts hard once, and you choke—a sharp cry escaping before you can bite it back. He’s so deep, your guts twist around it. Every nerve is on fire. Every thrust knocks your thoughts out of reach.

“You were a hero, right?” he murmurs, low and mocking, dragging his teeth across your shoulder. “All that training. All that pride. And now look at you.”

You can feel his breath on your skin. Hot. Rough. Hungry.

“You’re just a hole now.”

Your body clenches at the words—shame washing over you in thick, hot waves—and he feels it.

“Ohh,” he smirks. “You like that?”

He slams into you again, faster now. Meaner.

Every thrust drags slick noises out of your ruined cunt. You’re soaked. Wrecked. Mindless.

“Gonna fill you again,” he pants. “Deeper this time. Gonna shove it so far inside your slutty little pussy, your womb won’t have a choice.”

You shake your head weakly, but your body doesn’t listen. Your hips move, chasing each thrust like you need it. It’s the drug. It has to be. It has to be.

“You think I’m stopping after this?” he growls. “No. I’m gonna keep using this body ‘til I see it take.”

You sob—writhing under him, unable to escape the brutal rhythm of his hips, his cock dragging against every oversensitive spot until you’re seeing white. Your walls clamp down again, another orgasm crashing over you without mercy.

“That’s it,” he snarls, voice cracking. “Fucking milk me. Show me how bad you want it.”

You cry out again, high-pitched and broken—and that’s what finally does it. He thrusts deep, grinding as he spills inside you again, thick and hot and so much. You can feel it flooding your insides, dripping back out before he even pulls away.

But he doesn’t pull away.

He stays inside. Still hard. Still twitching. Still watching you shake under him like a used-up doll.

“You’re leaking,” he murmurs. “Guess I’ll just have to do it again.”

You sob.

But your hips tilt again.

[zeherili-ankhein]

What is desi Wattpad writers obsession with this whole “he was an atheist but started to beg to god when she *blah blah blah* and”

Like ok.... It was cute one time, two times, but why are you all following the same pattern?!? 😭😭😭😭

Like broooo atheist hai to usse atheist hi banao na, why this weird things....

It's giving so much of those desi serial bs with their ‘I don't believe in god, religion is bullshit’ hero and their ‘omgg _____ bhagwan is everything to mee” heroine who changes his mind

Why can't you guys have good positive atheist representation and not make it weird and make the atheists be straight up antitheists and/or later starts being a theist and believing in God????

Once I saw one of those Wattpad reels where the hero was saying something like “mere butterfly ke mahadev ________ something something” and having convos in his mind AND IT WAS LEGIT SO CRINGE 😭😭

Why is it important to make your characters believe in God to make them likable?

I find this so weird.... And as if they got this “turning atheists into theists with the power of love” kink or something...

If I get hate for this, so be it. But y'all cringe if you like those serial ass bad atheist representations

[bakugosatoru]

My Hero Academia Boys in Bed

Male Characters

Requests Open!

Warnings: Explicit (Minors don't interact) Genre: Smut Fic Type: Headcannons Fandom: My Hero Academia

Authors Note: I am MORE than happy to write these for other characters so please send requests on who you want to see! I'm trying to write a longer Hawks x Dabi smut fanfiction but its not coming together like I wanted so this is my way to at least share something so I don't loose my mind!

Izuku

If he's the dominant one:

- All he cares about is your pleasure - Prefers positions where he can see your face as he loves peppering it with kisses while he thrusts deep inside of you. - Foreplay, foreplay, foreplay - If he gets the time, he will tease you for hours. - All he wants is to get you whining his name. - The aftercare is next level, baths, snacks, movies, you name it, he's got it ready. - "That's it baby, you take me so well, so good for me."

If your the dominant one:

- Whining - Wants more than anything to be a good boy for you. - The biggest praise kink in the universe. - Loves to cry and beg while you make him feel good. - Gets overstimulated so easily but loves it. - Afterwards all he wants is cuddles and to be told he did a good job. - "Fuck baby, it feels so good... you make me feel so good. Wanna be your toy, be so good for you"

Bakugo

If he's the dominant one:

- He is BIG - The first time you slept together, he was barely able to get it all the way in. - That doesn't stop him from fucking you into the mattress though. - Hard Dom, but massive on communication, so you bet all your kinks are talked out before AND after. - Favorite position is Doggy, he loves to see the moment your arms give out and you fall face first into the mattress so he can fuck you even harder. - Loves to see you cry in pleasure. - He loves wiping your tears as he roughly fucks you, knowing he's the only one who gets to see you like this. - "Does it feel that good baby? Feel how fucking deep I am? You can take it, I know you can"

If your the dominant one:

- The biggest brat in the universe. - Loves to rile you up until your forced to pin him to the bed and put him in his place. - He is LOUD - Loud as in 'Shove his face in a pillow to muffle his moans or you'll wake the whole dorm' loud. - Will never admit it but loves to be edged. Being pushed to the edge of cumming over and over and having to beg to finally cum. - Loves it when you tie his arms behind his back so he's fully at your mercy. - "Baby fuck- please. It hurts please can I cum, i'll be good, i'll be so good please."

Todoroki

If he's the dominant one:

- Rope bondage fiend - Loves NOTHING more than having you tied up for him. - Will spend hours, weaving intricate harnesses and suspension set up for you. - While he does that he is the softest, most doting boyfriend in the world, making sure none of the ropes are too tight and that your comfortable - But after he's finished? He goes feral - Fucks you so roughly, sometime you can barely walk the next day. - Leaves bruises on your hips from gripping so hard and litters your neck in hickeys. - "You look so good tied up for me honey, just made for me. You were made for me..."

If your the dominant one:

- Just wants to leave everything in your hands - Is willing to try anything you think he might enjoy, he loves nothing more than to be totally at your mercy - For such a quiet person, he babbles mindlessly when your in control - All he wants to do is cry your name and tell you how amazing it feels. - You gagged him once, but you missed his pleading so much you quickly decided you preferred to hear his voice. - "Oh my god angel you feel amazing, I love you, I love you, it feels so good please don't stop. Don't stop"

Denki

If he's the dominant one:

- I don't even know if we can call him dominant - This man does not fuck, he makes love and nothing else. - All he wants is to hold you tightly while he fucks into you. - Missionary with him is the most loved you've ever felt, his arms around you, him whispering in your ear how much he loves you while he slowly thrusts himself deep into you. - But don't get me wrong, he will go rough if you ask him too. - He loves to make you ride him, before grabbing your hips and thrusting up into you until you collapse onto his chest. - "God your so beautiful, i want to stay inside you forever. You feel like heaven baby."

If your the dominant one:

- Just wants to be pegged - Seriously, you want to make him happy? Let him ride your strap on while telling him how good of a boy he is. - He wont actually short-circuit but god will it look like it. - His eyes glazed over as he whines helplessly, desperate to cum. - You usually end up taking pity on him and flip him so he's under you so you can fuck him until he finally cums. - "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me please baby, need to cum so bad, wanna cum for you. Please?"

Kirishima

If he's the dominant one:

- The biggest out of all the guys. - Took you three separate attempts to get it all inside and it felt like it was splitting you open. - Kiri held you and kissed your forehead as you adjusted to him. - "Shh, I know honey, just relax, i'll go slow I promise" - When he finally got it all in, he was gentle, making sure to check in as he slowly fucked you, rearranging your organs in the process. - He kissed away your tears and helped you get used to the stretch. When you finally got used to it and gave him the okay, he started to fuck you slowly and hard. - He will not cum unless you have cum at least twice before him. - He will also happily go down on you for as long as you like to help you relax or just prepare for his size. - "How the fuck are you so tight angel, god your squeezing the life outta me"

If your the dominant one:

- Loves to be tied up - Will absolutely loose his mind if you tie him up and just slowly ride him - He loves begging to touch you, or for you to touch him. - Always wants to be holding you, so if you want to punish him, just don't let him and he will melt in your hands. - "Please baby, I just want to touch you, please... fuck you feel so good"

Hawks

If he's the dominant one:

- If you dont end up quivering from overstimulation by the end of it, he wont be satisfied. - He loves to use his wings in the bedroom. Whether his feathers are ghosting over your skin or holding you down, he knows exactly how to use them. - He always want you to sit on his face, he loves to squeeze your hips as you whimper and rock back and forth, riding his mouth. - The best at dirty talk, this man is loud in the bedroom, moaning in your ear, telling you how good you are for him. He can't help it. - Another big fan of missionary, loves to cup your face as he thrusts into you, whispering about how amazing you feel. - "Fuck baby, this pussy was just made for me huh? You like how I feel inside you?"

If your the dominant one:

- After a long day of having to be a confident, powerful hero; all he wants is to be taken care of by you. - He will happily sit, his hands cuffed to the headboard as you slowly ride him to make him feel good. - A slut for overstimulation. Make him cum until he cries and he'll be like putty in your hands. - Wants nothing more than for you to take him apart, break him down to the bone, and put him back together again. - "Fuck baby its so much, I don't think I can cum again, god you feel so good around me... shit-"