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cherrychilli · 5 months ago

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18+ Steve Harrington x F! reader, momentary mean! Steve, established relationship, lil bit of angst, PIV sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, hate sex turned make up sex WC:2.2K

A/N: Why not? Enjoy!

"So we're still fighting, huh?", Steve narrows his eyes at you from the kitchen entry way.

He's a picture of disarray — shirt misbuttoned, belt buckle in need of fastening, tie draped loosely over his shoulders and hair a wild, mussed up mess.

His unruly state came to be as a result of forgetting to set his alarm after your heated exchange last night, waking to find he was running late for work and you hadn't bothered to rouse him like you usually would have.

His sarcastic barb goes seemingly unheard though when you refuse to look up from the dishes you're scrubbing in the sink, back still turned to him even though the crumbs from your breakfast of blueberry jam on toast have long been washed clean from your plate.

It was a disagreement blown out of proportion that had caused the friction between you two. Steve had hoped sleeping it off would help to cool your tempers enough to reconcile in the morning but now that seems as likely as him making it to work on time.

Or was it?

He sighs, a clear note of irritation coming through because he should be digging through the laundry basket in search of his socks before he tries to shove his feet inside his shoes without them again in his rush, not rooted in place, eyes dark and stony but taking you in.

Of course you'd try to give him blue balls on top of it all too.

He grits his teeth as he stares at you in your too short satin robe, every inch of your legs and thighs on display as the hem hangs high, just a few inches below the swell of your ass. Practically dangling yourself in front of him.

He enters the kitchen then and though it feels risky approaching you the way that he does, he recognizes that the air's thick with a familiar kind of tension when he comes up behind you.

Quickly and none too gently, he rucks up your robe to confirm a suspicion he'd been harboring. He finds you're nude underneath the thin, silky layer when you allow him just a glimpse, swatting his hand away with a look sharper than a knife's edge when your eyes connect with his over your shoulder.

But Steve knows better than to take it seriously. There's no ire behind your glare — no unspoken threat meant to make him retreat. You're still mad, sure, he can feel the heat radiating off of you just as it's made his own skin warm but your expression softens just enough to confirm that what you really want is for him to come closer. And that's exactly what he does.

You feel the warmth of Steve's chest pressing against your back when you turn to the sink once more, his arms caging you in place, leaving you no room to escape. The water continues to run until he closes the faucet too, leaning down to whisper into your ear. "This how you want to solve it?", he asks, pulling his hand back to lift your robe again only this time you don't attempt to thwart him, letting him cup your ass and squeeze your soft skin. Hard.

The heat of last night's fight had died down to a simmer but it left you both burning in a different, much more familiar way as you answer him.

"Yeah. This is how I want to do it", you utter loud enough for him to hear you clearly though this close together, there's nothing he can miss no matter how softly you might whisper it.

The sound of his belt coming undone has you buzzing beneath your skin while you brace yourself, curling your fingers under the edge of the countertop as Steve finishes pulling out his girthy cock. But before he even attempts to get it anywhere near your entrance he holds out his palm to you, knowing that he doesn't need to ask for you to spit into it, something that feels instinctual now at this stage in your relationship as he draws it back and slicks up his cock with your saliva.

With his length coated in a warm, glossy mixture of your spit and his precum, Steve doesn't keep you waiting for long, your legs parting to help with easing the tip of his cock in.

"Does it hurt?", he asks and while it might sound like he's only concerned about you, you can hear the heat still present in his veins.

"A little", You answer with a little heat of your own, no intention of asking him to stop.

"Good. I know you can take it", he tells you, all thorns and shit eating grins.

It doesn't happen as easily as when you two take the time to engage in foreplay first, your body usually opening up to accept him once he's gotten you ready with his tongue or fingers but this time Steve manages to notch his tip by your hole and breach you once it pops inside with a little effort, the rest of him slowly sinking inch by inch into your velvet heat.

Despite the wetness that smears your inner thighs, your whole body tenses and you have to breathe through it, pain marrying pleasure while you're being stretched open, hissing under your breath when he reaches his base. He spends a few seconds all the way inside you, just feeling you wrap around him and squeeze, your walls pulsing when he decides that's as soft as he'll allow himself to be with you today.

And he proves it when he begins pulling himself out, only to grit his teeth and drive himself back in again, making you squeal instantly, getting you thoroughly acquainted with the feeling and the force of every thrust as his pelvis bounces against your ass.

Steve so rarely ever fucks you like this and you're so caught up in taking his cock that you barely notice the way he reaches up to pull the front of your robe open too, realizing what he's done when he finds your nipples and begins to pinch and tug on them, smirking when it draws a high pitched whimper out of you as your steady breathing turns to shallow pants.

But you're not some delicate flower type. You're not one to be so compliant and let him ruin you so easily. So while Steve's busy fondling your chest you're quick to even the score when you grab hold of his right hand, lifting it up to your mouth so you can sink your teeth into the soft skin between his thumb and his wrist.

The pained hiss turned groan he lets out despite himself is a small victory but a sweet one nonetheless, enough to make you smile around his throbbing hand before deciding to remove your teeth from him, making sure to scoff at him all smug as he rubs at the little red teeth marks left behind on his tan skin.

Of course he takes it as well as a throatful of glass, considering the act a challenge for more.

Steve offers you one small moment of respite, slowly pulling almost all the way out, making sure his swollen tip remains inside you while you sigh, only to make you choke on a moan when he pushes all the way inside again in a single hard thrust, punching the air out of you.

You wanted to retaliate again, maybe reach behind to sink your nails into his thigh, scraping at his skin until narrow lines or blood rise to the surface or even rip at the clothes that hang on him in his state of half undress but you're unable to follow through this time with how he's managed to rattle you.

Steve's far too pleased to feel your elbows start to shake as your arms struggle to keep you up at this point, set on making your knees wobble too just so he can gloat about it later when you find it difficult to pick yourself up off the kitchen floor and walk away once he's done with you.

Slowly, Steve withdraws again, glee lighting up his eyes when he pushes back in with the same force of that first sharp thrust and this time you fail to stop a short scream from ripping out of your throat, back arching from how well and hard he's pressing against that spot deep inside you.

"Something you wanna say, sweetheart?", he sneers and taunts, pleased when you struggle to put together a coherent sentence while trying to endure his unforgiving pace. "Spit it out before I stop being so nice."

You muster what you can and manage to whimper it out, feeling so worn out though you haven't even reached your climax yet.

"Cum inside me. Please", you tell him — beg him, fingers turning cold and numb from how hard your grasping the countertop.

He's nothing short of cocky when he hears you whine all desperate and spent, a smug sense of accomplishment washing over him when he sees the thick coating of slick and cream you've left on his cock as he watches it withdraw and disappear inside you one harsh thrust after the other.

And then you tell him the rest.

"M—miss you when you're gone. Need to —ngh. Need to feel you in me when you're not here", you manage to string the words together before letting out a sound that's somewhere between a gasp and a whine, the kind he'll think about later on his own, working himself up until he's got no choice but to pry it out of you again.

But this isn't one of those moments, no matter how much he'd liked the sounds falling from your parted, panting lips.

Steve loses his rhythm before he stills completely inside you, your words sinking in like nails piercing his skin.

This was it. The crux of last night's argument.

You missed Steve. He'd been working too hard lately and you'd grown concerned. With the stress of his job and the little sleep he'd had he'd grown defensive and you'd gotten irritated, both of you clashing when you should have been listening and working together.

When he had woken up this morning Steve had cooled down enough to know he'd been unfair to you the night before. He was usually the type to talk things out but he'd gotten swept up in how things happened to pan out today, wrapping an arm around you tenderly, the hand you'd bitten placed over your thumping heart. He nuzzles his chin onto your shoulder to get closer to you, the stubble he'd been unable to shave this morning scratching against your skin gently as he whispers into your ear with so much sincerity.

"I'm sorry— I'm so sorry."

The sound of him all earnest and ragged makes you melt in his hold because you know how much he means it — you can practically feel how much he means it as it sinks into your skin and reaches into your ribcage.

Like Steve, you would have been open to talking it out had this been a regular fight. This particular fight however had you dumping more fuel on to the fire that roared between you because it required more than just words to resolve everything. It needed more than swapped apologies for the two of you to make amends and return back to normal.

You really needed to fuck it out. All teeth and nails and sore, spent bodies.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too", you answer, a smile growing on your parted, panting lips. "Now fuck me, will you?"

It catches Steve off guard enough to make him snort, thankful that the worst of your fight is behind you now as he starts to pick up the pace again, firm but also tender with the way his lips move against your neck and his fingers brush and roll at your nipples.

"Going to make it up to you, baby. Gonna be around more. Gonna be here for you, okay?", he pants against your skin, all gravelly groans and grunts with his nails digging into the skin on your waist.

You moan out his name, using what little strength you feel you have left to push yourself back to meet his thrusts. "Steve, oh fuck... I'm so close. I need you— I fucking need you, please."

He snaps his hips against your ass again, drawing out a blissful shudder out of you. "Gonna make it all right but until then—", you feel him draw away from you a little bit then, his hands leaving your body as you realize that he's going through his pockets.

With his cock still buried inside you and throbbing, he pulls out his phone and begins dialing, his thrusts commencing again, steady and deep enough to make your whole body draw tight, your release within reach.

"Try to keep it down while I call in sick, okay? Gonna have you all to myself today. Promise I'll keep you nice and full— gonna look so beautiful when you're dripping with me..."

#steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things

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pin-k-ink · 7 months ago

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miya osamu who is possessive. he makes sure you know you're his. grabby in public, hand on your back, your waist, fingers in your pussy on public transport. i feel like he's the kinda guy to apologize when he's going to rough, when he's hurting you, but he just can't help it. probably has a breeding kink and just wants to stuff you so full

axiom // miya osamu

tw ⇢ possessive!osamu, jealous!osamu, lots of pda, public sex, fingering, begging, asphyxiation, breeding, multiple rounds, creampie, unprotected sex, one spank, overstimulation, name calling, praise kink (receiving), marking, getting caught

wc ⇢ 7.7k

a/n: spent all night writing this for you, nonnie. god, i wanna marry samu so bad

The familiar bustle of Onigiri Miya surrounded you as you tended to the last customer of the day. The aroma of freshly cooked rice and savory fillings filled the air, but beneath the comforting scents, an undercurrent of tension emanated from your boyfriend. Though Osamu tried to maintain a casual demeanor, leaning against the counter with an air of nonchalance, you couldn't help but notice the subtle signs of his mounting frustration.

The way his hand curled into a tight fist, knuckles turning white from the force of his grip. The rhythmic throbbing of the vein in his neck, pulsing in time with his accelerated heartbeat. The clenching of his chiseled jaw, the muscles flexing beneath his tanned skin. Even the aggressive tapping of his foot against the tiled floor betrayed his inner turmoil, each staccato beat echoing in the space between you.

Your own heart raced with a potent mix of concern and confusion. What had triggered this sudden change in Osamu's usually calm, patient demeanor? It was a rarity to see him so visibly agitated, his composure cracking under the weight of an unknown pressure. As the customer finally took their leave, you allowed your gaze to wander around the shop, seeking answers in the familiar surroundings.

That's when your eyes met Atsumu's. He sat at a nearby table, his long fingers absently tapping against the polished mahogany surface, a pensive expression etched onto his handsome features. The moment your gazes locked, however, his eyes widened momentarily, a flicker of recognition sparking within their depths. Then, just as quickly, his lips curled into a knowing smirk, as if he held the key to a secret you had yet to find out.

The unease that had been simmering in your gut intensified, a sense of foreboding washing over you like a chilling wave. What did Atsumu know that you didn't? Before you could dwell on the question further, a pair of strong, familiar arms coiled around your waist, pulling you flush against the solid warmth of Osamu's chest.

The sudden contact sent a shiver racing down your spine, your breath catching in your throat at the unexpected intimacy. "'Samu? What's—"

"The back. Now." His voice was low and clipped, each word laced with an authority that left no room for argument. The warning squeeze of his fingers against your hip only served to emphasize the urgency of his demand.

Waves of apprehension crashed over you as you processed his words, your mind reeling with the implications. Osamu was undeniably angry—that much was clear from the tension radiating off him in palpable waves. But the reason behind his ire eluded you.

With a hesitant nod, you released yourself from his embrace and began to make your way towards the storage room at the back of the shop. Each step felt heavy, as if your feet were encased in concrete, your mind spinning with a whirlwind of possibilities. What had you done to incite such a reaction from your usually level-headed boyfriend?

Time seemed to stretch on indefinitely as you waited anxiously in the small, musty confines of the storage room. The air was thick with the mingled scents of dried goods and cleaning supplies, the shelves looming overhead like silent sentinels. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, a frantic bird desperate to escape its bony prison.

When the door finally creaked open, signaling Osamu's arrival, your breath lodged in your throat, your pulse skyrocketing with a heady mix of anticipation and trepidation. You barely had a chance to utter a word, to form a coherent thought, before he was upon you, his lips claiming yours in a searing, possessive kiss.

His hands gripped your hips with a bruising force, fingers digging into the pliant flesh as he pulled you impossibly closer, erasing any lingering distance between your bodies. A soft, involuntary moan escaped your parted lips, muffled by the insistent press of his mouth against yours. Your own hands rose to clutch at his broad shoulders, fingernails scraping against the fabric of his shirt as you surrendered to the intensity of his kiss.

The heat of his body, the unyielding pressure of his lips, sent desire coursing through your veins like molten lava, igniting a fire in your core that threatened to consume you whole. Just as quickly as it began, however, Osamu abruptly tore his mouth away, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

"What was his name?" he demanded, his voice rough and low, his stormy eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

"Wh-what?" you managed to stammer, your mind still hazy from the intoxicating kiss, struggling to make sense of his sudden question.

"That last customer, what was his name?" Osamu repeated, an edge of impatience creeping into his tone, his words laced with a subtle growl.

You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog of desire that clouded your thoughts, attempting to grasp the significance of his inquiry. "Keisuke. Why?"

Something dark and primal flickered in the gunmetal depths of Osamu's eyes, a possessiveness that sent a delicious thrill racing down your spine. He reached for you once more, his large hand splaying across the small of your back, pressing your body flush against the hard planes of his chest. "So you remember his name?"

"What the—"

Your words were cut off by Osamu's exasperated sigh as he released you roughly, causing you to stumble back a step, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribcage. Any retort you might have mustered died on your tongue as you watched him reach for his belt, his intentions unmistakable in the purposeful movements of his fingers.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a sinful promise, dripping with dark intentions that made your core clench with anticipation. "By the time we're done, you won't even remember what he looked like. Now, why don't you bend over f’me?"

There was a certain smugness in the way he spoke, as if he knew he'd already won. And the worst part was, deep down, you knew he was right. Because as you bent over, ass up, ready to take him, all thoughts of the nameless customer were wiped from your mind. The only name that mattered was Osamu's, and by the time he was done with you, you'd be screaming it loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.

As his name spilled from your lips, tinged with a mix of reverence and desire, you knew you were lost. But as his fingers slipped between your thighs, brushing against the heated flesh, sending pleasure rippling through your core, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"Fuck, you're already soaked, sweetheart," Osamu groaned, his thumb rubbing slow, torturous circles around your clit.

"I'm not the only one," you gasped, arching your back and pressing against his hard length, trapped inside his jeans.

"Oh yeah? And who's fault is that, huh?" he murmured, swiftly turning you around to face him, the tip of his nose grazing along your jaw, his warm breath fanning over your ear.

"Yours," you replied breathlessly, your own hands fumbling with the zipper of his pants.

He chuckled, a low, husky sound that sent shivers down your spine, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin of your neck. "Damn right it's mine."

You could feel his smile against your skin, and despite the haze of lust that clouded your mind, you couldn't help but grin. He was arrogant, but he had every right to be. He was the one who'd managed to make you this wet, after all.

With practiced ease, he slid your panties down, letting them fall to the floor in a silken puddle. Then, without warning, his fingers were inside you, curling and pumping with a rhythm that had your knees buckling.

"Fuck, 'Samu," you whimpered, your nails digging into the soft flesh of his bicep, leaving behind faint crescent-shaped indents.

"That's it, sweetheart," he breathed, his other hand tangling in your hair, tugging your head back until your eyes met his. "Let me hear how much you love this."

You could only moan in response, his fingers working their magic inside you, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. Your own hands continued to work on freeing his cock, a task made more difficult by the distracting waves of pleasure radiating through your body. But, after what felt like an eternity, you managed to release him from his confines, your fingers wrapping around his thick shaft, stroking him with a pace that matched his own.

His fingers sped up, the slick sounds of your combined pleasure filling the air, a lewd melody that only served to heighten the intensity of your impending release. You could feel the tension building inside you, like a coil wound too tight, ready to snap at any moment.

And when it did, it was with a ferocity that left you shaking in his arms.

Osamu's fingers worked you through your orgasm, drawing out every last drop of pleasure before pulling out. You barely had a moment to recover before his cock was sliding between your folds, coating himself with your juices.

"Fuck, I can't wait to be inside you," he groaned, his voice strained with desire, the heat of his words sending a fresh wave of arousal through your body.

"Then do it," you challenged, your eyes locking with his, a playful glint in their depths. "Stop teasing me."

His lips curved into a smirk, his hand trailing down the curve of your spine, before landing a sharp smack against your ass. The unexpected sting only fueled your desire, a gasp slipping past your lips.

"Patience, sweetheart," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

With agonizing slowness, he slid inside you, his cock stretching and filling you to the brim.

You couldn't help but moan, the sensation of being filled by him sending a rush of ecstasy through your veins. He stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size, before beginning to move.

His thrusts were slow and deliberate, each one eliciting a breathless moan from you. The feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you, coupled with the friction of his pelvis against your clit, was enough to send you spiraling into another mind-blowing orgasm.

"Yes, that's it, sweetheart, come for me," he growled, his own pleasure evident in his voice, the rhythmic clenching of your walls around his shaft.

As the waves of bliss began to recede, you could feel him picking up his pace, his thrusts becoming more erratic, chasing his own release. His fingers dug into your hips, the bite of his nails against your skin, only serving to intensify the pleasure coursing through your veins.

"Come on, 'Samu, fill me up," you urged, your voice barely above a whisper, a breathless plea.

"Fuck," he groaned, his grip tightening almost painfully, the tension of his impending release coiling through his body.

And with a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, spilling inside you, his hot cum painting your walls. The sensation pushed you over the edge once more, your own release tearing through you with an intensity that left you trembling and breathless.

Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled out, leaving you feeling suddenly empty. Before you had a chance to recover, however, he was capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, the taste of him mingling with the sweet flavors of his food.

"What brought this on?" you asked breathlessly, once he'd finally released you. He smirked, his eyes full of mischief. "Can't a man want to fuck his girlfriend without having to justify it?"

"You're unbelievable," you laughed, rolling your eyes.

"You love it," he teased, pulling you closer, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "And I'm not finished with you yet."

Realization crashed over you like a tidal wave, stealing the breath from your lungs and sending your pulse into overdrive. Osamu was jealous. The man renowned for his unwavering patience, the one who had endured countless incidents of his brother's shameless flirting and innumerable customers vying for your attention, had finally reached his breaking point.

A thrill raced through you at the thought, your skin prickling with a heady mix of excitement and apprehension. Osamu had always been an attentive, passionate lover, his touch igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each passing day. But you knew that beneath the surface, he kept his darker desires locked away, a carefully maintained restraint that never fully unleashed the depth of his hunger for you.

Now, it seemed, that fragile control had shattered. From that moment on, everything shifted, the very fabric of your relationship rewoven with the threads of Osamu's all-consuming possessiveness.

Gone were the days of working the front counter, of engaging in friendly banter with the customers who frequented Onigiri Miya. Osamu's jealousy knew no bounds, his need to stake his claim on you overriding any semblance of professional decorum. Each night, he would pull you into the back room, his hands roaming your body with a desperate urgency, his lips marking your skin with bruising kisses that served as a reminder of who you belonged to.

At first, the intensity of his passion was exhilarating, a heady rush that left you craving more. The way he claimed you, the force of his touch, the raw hunger in his eyes—it all combined to create a potent mix of desire that coursed through your veins, setting your nerves ablaze with an insatiable need.

But as time wore on, the cracks in the foundation of your relationship began to show, Osamu's jealousy bleeding into every aspect of your daily life like an insidious poison.

It started with small gestures in public, seemingly innocent displays of affection that belied a deeper, more primal urge. The way his fingers would intertwine with yours, his grip just a little too tight, a silent declaration of ownership. The way he would bring your joined hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles, his eyes daring anyone to challenge his claim on you. The way he would pull you close, his arm a heavy, reassuring weight across your shoulders, a tangible barrier between you and the rest of the world.

But as the days turned into weeks, Osamu's actions grew bolder, more brazen in their possessiveness. It was as if he needed to constantly remind the world that you were his and his alone, consequences be damned.

One particularly memorable incident occurred outside the shop, as you waited for Osamu to join you for your anniversary date. The evening air was crisp and cool, the stars twinkling overhead like diamonds scattered across a velvet sky. A group of teenagers loitered nearby, their laughter and chatter filling the night with a youthful exuberance.

You paid them no mind, lost in your own thoughts as you anticipated the romantic evening ahead. That is, until one of the boys broke away from the group, sauntering towards you with a cocky grin plastered across his face, his eyes alight with a boldness born of teenage bravado.

"Hey, lady—"

The words had barely left his mouth when Osamu appeared at your side, his arm snaking around your waist in a clear display of possession. His grip was iron-clad, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hip, a silent warning to anyone who dared to encroach on his territory.

"She's taken. Fuck off." His voice was a menacing growl, low and guttural, laced with a palpable threat that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes, normally a warm, inviting shade of gray, had hardened into chips of ice, narrowed in a withering glare that could have frozen the very marrow in the unfortunate teenager's bones.

The boy, to his credit, had the good sense to retreat, scurrying back to the safety of his friends with his tail tucked firmly between his legs. Osamu's chest puffed out in satisfaction, a primal display of dominance that sent a thrill racing through your veins. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering against your hair, a silent affirmation of his love and protection.

From that moment on, Osamu's public displays of affection only escalated, each one more daring than the last. At a dinner with Atsumu and his teammates, he kept you wedged firmly between his solid form and his brother's, a human shield against any unwanted advances. His hand rested possessively on your thigh beneath the table, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your skin, a private claiming that set your nerves alight.

When the waiter had the audacity to openly flirt with you, going so far as to ask for your number in front of the entire table, a tense silence descended upon the group. Forks paused midway to mouths, eyes darting between you, Osamu, and the oblivious server, a collective breath held in anticipation of the impending fallout.

To everyone's surprise, Osamu remained outwardly calm, his expression betraying no hint of the storm brewing beneath the surface. He allowed you to politely decline the waiter's advances, your words measured and diplomatic, even as your heart raced with a mix of discomfort and irritation.

The waiter, however, seemed determined to push his luck, his eyes lingering on your face, his smile just a touch too friendly, his words laced with a suggestive undertone that made your skin crawl. Atsumu, ever the protective brother, was about to intervene, his patience wearing thin in the face of the waiter's persistence.

But before he could utter a word, Osamu cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the tension like a knife through butter. "Oh, I need to go and close up shop. I'll see you home, honey."

With that, he reached out, his hand cupping the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in the soft strands of your hair. He pulled you in close, his lips claiming yours in a deep, possessive kiss that stole the breath from your lungs and sent your heart into overdrive.

He made a show of it, his tongue delving into the warm cavern of your mouth, his teeth nipping at your lower lip, a soft moan of pleasure rumbling in his chest. When he finally pulled away, you were left breathless and flushed, your lips swollen from the force of his kiss.

The waiter, thoroughly humiliated, could only stand there, his mouth agape, his cheeks stained a deep crimson. Osamu, for his part, merely smirked, a triumphant gleam in his eyes as he slowly walked out of the restaurant.

In the days that followed, Osamu's possessiveness seemed to level off, the tension in his body easing, the constant need to hover at your side diminishing. But his desire to touch you, to stake his claim on your body and soul, remained as insatiable as ever.

One particularly memorable incident occurred on a crowded train, your bodies pressed flush against each other in the cramped confines of the carriage. The gentle sway of the train, the rhythmic clacking of the wheels against the tracks, created a hypnotic backdrop to the charged atmosphere between you.

You felt the ghost of Osamu's touch on the back of your thigh, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin, sending a jolt of electricity racing up your spine. You gasped, your eyes widening as you looked up at him, a silent question in your gaze.

Osamu merely smiled, the curve of his lips soft and affectionate, his eyes alight with a mischievous glint. He leaned down, his nose nuzzling against yours in a tender gesture that belied the heat simmering just beneath the surface.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whispered, his breath fanning across your face, his words a sinful promise that made your core clench with anticipation. "You just look so irresistible today. I can't keep my hands off of you."

As he spoke, his fingers inched higher, grazing the lace edge of your panties, a teasing touch that set your nerve endings ablaze. Your heart raced, a potent cocktail of excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins, your skin prickling with a heady mix of desire and apprehension.

Osamu's hands were blatantly beneath your skirt now, his fingers kneading the soft flesh of your rear, his touch bold and unapologetic. If the train hadn't been so crowded, your intimate moment would have been on display for all to see, a public claiming that sent a thrill racing down your spine. But Osamu showed no signs of stopping, his lips peppering your face with tender kisses, his touch growing more insistent with each passing second.

The feeling of being desired, of being wanted so fiercely by the man you loved, was intoxicating. The thrill of potentially getting caught only heightened the experience, sending a flood of heat pooling between your thighs.

You leaned into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you pressed yourself closer to his firm, muscular body. Your hand gripped his bicep, your nails digging into the smooth skin, a silent plea for more.

"Osamu, please..."

The soft, breathless whisper was enough to shatter the last vestiges of his self-control. He kissed you deeply, his tongue delving into the warm cavern of your mouth, a sinful, desperate melding of lips and teeth and tongue.

His hands roamed your body with a fervent urgency, mapping every curve and plane with an intimate familiarity, as if committing each inch of your skin to memory. His touch was a branding, a burning mark of possession, his desire a blazing inferno that threatened to consume you both.

You clung to him, your fingers grasping at his shirt, the fabric clenched tightly between trembling digits, as you tried to ground yourself amidst the tumultuous storm of emotions. Your heart raced, a deafening crescendo pounding in your ears, the very air around you charged with the electric energy of your passion.

Osamu's lips traced a heated path along your jaw, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin, his tongue laving the tiny bite marks, soothing the sting with his gentle ministrations.

"Mine," he breathed, the word a reverent, possessive murmur against your ear, a secret only you were privy to. "All mine."

His hands roamed the supple curve of your ass, his fingers squeezing the pliant flesh, a groan of appreciation rumbling in his chest.

"Fuck, baby, I want you so bad."

His voice was a low, husky rumble, laced with an aching need that made your pussy clench, the heat between your thighs nearly unbearable.

"I want to fuck you right here, in front of everyone, so they know you're mine."

You could feel the hard length of his arousal pressing against you, a tangible proof of his desire, the heady scent of his cologne enveloping you like a cloud. You swallowed thickly, your lips parted in a silent moan, a heady mix of pleasure and fear coursing through your veins.

"God, Samu, please..."

Your words trailed off, your voice a breathless, desperate whisper, as Osamu's hands found their way between your thighs. His fingers grazed the damp fabric of your panties, the feather-light touch eliciting a gasp from you, the sound drowned out by the clamor of the train.

"Fuck, baby, you're so wet for me." His words were a sultry growl, laced with a dark, primal hunger, the sound sending a shiver of desire racing down your spine.

Your mind was hazy, the sensations overwhelming, your body thrumming with a desperate, aching need. Your hips bucked against his hand, a silent plea for more, a plea he was only too happy to oblige.

"That's it, baby, let me take care of you." His fingers slipped beneath the thin, silky fabric of your panties, his thumb brushing against the slick, sensitive bud of your clit, a teasing touch that sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through your body. You bit back a moan, your teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your lower lip, the faint metallic taste of blood mingling with the sweet, salty taste of Osamu's kisses.

His fingers slid along your dripping folds, the sensation almost unbearably intense, the sound of his voice, a low, sultry murmur, drowning out the chaos around you. "I'm gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart, don't worry."

With that, his fingers plunged inside you, his deft digits stretching you in the most delicious way, a welcome intrusion that made your core clench, a choked whimper escaping your lips.

You clung to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck, the smell of his cologne a heady, intoxicating scent.

Your hips rocked against his hand, a slow, steady rhythm that matched the sway of the train, the friction creating a delicious, aching friction that threatened to send you over the edge.

"Samu, please, I need you," you whispered, your words a breathless, desperate plea, your core clenching around his fingers.

Osamu chuckled, the sound a dark, seductive rumble, the low timbre vibrating through your body. His lips brushed against your ear, his breath fanning against your heated skin, a sensual, forbidden promise. "Don't worry, sweetheart, l'm gonna give you everything you need."

As he spoke, his fingers moved deeper within you, the pads of his digits brushing against the bundle of nerves hidden within your walls, a spot he knew all too well. He increased the pressure, the movements of his fingers unrelenting, the pace building, a slow, torturous crescendo.

The sensations were overwhelming, the pleasure bordering on pain, the air in your lungs burning, the muscles of your thighs quivering, the heat coiling deep within you reaching a fever pitch. You could feel the tears stinging your eyes, the words slipping from your lips a frantic, broken mantra.

"Please, please, please, Samu, please."

"Come for me, sweetheart," he growled, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, passionate kiss, his tongue plunging into the warm cavern of your mouth, a deep, carnal melding of lips and teeth and tongue. His fingers were a relentless piston within you, the sensations pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, a tsunami of pleasure coursing through your veins, the intensity making your knees buckle, your fingers digging into the solid muscles of his biceps. You could feel his smirk against your lips, the smug, satisfied curve of his mouth only adding to the overwhelming sensations.

He slowed his movements, the pace languid and unhurried, drawing out your pleasure for as long as possible, the soft, teasing caresses making your toes curl, a shuddering aftershock rippling through your body. He kissed you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours, his lips lingering against yours, a soft, loving press, before slowly pulling away.

His eyes were hooded, the gray orbs a stormy, smoky shade, his pupils blown wide with desire. His lips were slightly swollen, a rosy pink from the fervent nature of his kisses, the curve of his smile a tender, adoring expression.

"God, I love you," he murmured, his voice a reverent whisper, a sacred declaration.

You could feel the blush blooming across your cheeks, a rosy, flustered flush that made him chuckle. His thumb gently wiped away the stray tear that had slipped from your eye, his touch a reassuring, steadying caress.

He pressed one last, lingering kiss to your lips before carefully extracting his hand from between your thighs. You watched, mesmerized, as he brought his fingers to his lips, his tongue darting out, a sly, teasing lick, his eyes never leaving yours.

"God, baby, you taste so good," he murmured, the words a low, husky rumble, his voice laced with a dark, sensual undercurrent.

"I could eat you all day."

You shuddered, a fresh wave of desire coursing through your veins, the very image a visceral, erotic fantasy come to life. But before you could respond, the train screeched to a halt, the automated voice announcing your stop, the sudden cacophony of voices and movement jolting you back to reality.

You hastily smoothed down your clothes, your hands frantically straightening your skirt, a vain attempt to hide the evidence of your passion. Your hair was a mess, the once carefully styled strands now tousled and tangled, a disheveled testament to the fervent nature of Osamu's affections.

By the time you reached your stop, your body was thrumming with a desperate need, your core aching for the relief that only his cock could provide.

As he led you off the train, his arm wrapped securely around your waist, your mind swirled with a dizzying array of emotions. The intensity of Osamu's love, his unyielding desire to claim you as his own, was both thrilling and overwhelming, a force of nature that threatened to consume you whole.

The moment you crossed the threshold of Osamu's house, the air between you crackled with a palpable tension, a desperate hunger that could no longer be denied. With a growl of impatience, Osamu's strong hand encircled your wrist, his grip firm and unyielding as he tugged you towards the bedroom, his movements fueled by a primal urgency that set your blood ablaze.

The door swung open with a bang, the sound echoing through the quiet house like a gunshot, but neither of you paid it any mind. Osamu's focus was solely on you, his stormy gray eyes darkened with a lust that stole the breath from your lungs and sent your heart into a frenzy.

In a tangle of limbs and gasping breaths, you tumbled onto the bed, the soft mattress yielding beneath your weight. Osamu wasted no time in climbing over you, his body a solid, comforting weight that pressed you into the plush comforter. His legs straddled your hips, his knees bracketing your thighs, keeping you pinned in place, a willing captive to his desire.

Your chest heaved with each ragged breath, your skin prickling with anticipation as Osamu lowered his head, his lips seeking yours in a bruising kiss that stole the air from your lungs. The press of his mouth was demanding, his tongue delving past your parted lips to tangle with yours in a sensual dance that set your nerve endings ablaze.

His hands roamed your body with a desperate urgency, his fingers skimming over the curves and planes of your form, mapping every inch of your skin as if committing it to memory. Each touch, each caress, each scrape of his blunt nails against your flesh sent bolts of electricity racing through your veins, igniting a fire in your core that threatened to consume you whole.

You arched into him, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, your nails digging into the firm muscles of his back as you surrendered to the onslaught of sensations that assaulted your senses. The scent of him, a heady mix of sandalwood and musk, filled your nostrils, intoxicating you with its potency.

The taste of him, a tantalizing blend of mint and spice, lingered on your tongue, leaving you wanting more. The feel of him, his skin burning hot against your own, his muscles flexing beneath your palms, was almost too much to bear.

You were drowning in him, consumed by his love and desire, and you never wanted it to end.

With a groan, he tore his lips from yours, his gaze raking over your flushed features, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. "Mine," he breathed, the word a low, possessive growl that rumbled deep in his chest. "Mine to fuck. Mine to breed."

The promise of his words, the raw, visceral need in his voice, sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine. Your body responded to him instinctively, your thighs parting to allow him access, your core aching with an emptiness that only he could fill.

You were his. And you always would be.

A feral grin spread across Osamu's face, his canines glinting in the low light as he pushed your skirt up, his fingers brushing against the damp lace of your panties. "Look at you, so wet and ready for me," he murmured, his tone laced with a mixture of pride and satisfaction.

"Your body knows who it belongs to, doesn't it?"

You nodded, unable to form a coherent response, the anticipation of what was to come rendering you speechless.

Osamu leaned down, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Tell me. Tell me who you belong to."

"Y-you," you stammered, your breath hitching in your throat. "I belong to you, Osamu."

He let out a low rumble of approval, his teeth nipping at your earlobe before he pulled away, his eyes locking with yours. "That's right," he murmured, his voice heavy with desire. "And I'm going to remind you of that, over and over again. I'm going to fill you with my seed until there's no doubt in your mind who you belong to."

Osamu shifted, his knees pushing your thighs wider apart as he settled between your legs, his erection straining against the confines of his pants. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the promise of what was to come making your pulse race and your stomach flutter.

You were desperate for him, aching for the pleasure only he could give you. But before you could reach for him, he grasped your wrists in his hand, pinning them above your head, his grip rough and commanding.

"Stay still," he commanded, his free hand tracing a slow path down your chest, his fingers skimming over the curve of your breast before cupping the mound, his thumb grazing over the taut peak of your nipple.

The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through your body, your back arching off the mattress, a needy moan slipping past your lips.

"Patience," he chided, his touch featherlight as he continued to tease your sensitive bud, his dark gaze drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

Arousal pooled between your thighs, the dampness of your panties betraying your desperation.

"So eager," he mused, his fingers pinching your nipple, the sudden burst of pain mixing with pleasure. "But we're just getting started."

Osamu released your wrists, his hand trailing down your stomach, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. He dipped lower, his digits finding your slick entrance, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves with a slow, deliberate stroke.

Your hips bucked against his touch, your need for release becoming unbearable, but Osamu held you in place, his fingers circling your clit with a torturous slowness that made you squirm.

"Please," you begged, your voice breathless and needy. "Please, Osamu. I need you."

"I know," he replied, his tone husky with lust.

"I need you too. I need to fill you with my cum, to breed you like the good little girl you are."

Arousal trickled down your thighs as his fingers stroked your folds, his touch alternating between rough and gentle, his movements designed to push you closer and closer to the edge.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your skin burning with a feverish heat as you teetered on the precipice of orgasm. But just as you were about to fall over the edge, Osamu pulled his hand away, his fingers glistening with your juices.

"Not yet," he murmured, his gaze darkening as he brought his fingers to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick the sticky-sweet liquid from his digits. "I want to savor this."

He pressed his hips against yours, the hard length of his cock straining against the confines of his trousers, the friction sending a shockwave of pleasure through your core.

You could feel the urgency in his touch, the desire coursing through his veins mirroring your own. His desire to claim you, to mark you as his, was undeniable, his need for you almost feral in its intensity.

As his fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties, tugging the damp fabric down your thighs, his breath fanned against your neck, his teeth grazing the delicate skin. "I'm going to breed you. Going to fill your pretty little pussy with my cum, over and over again, until your womb is filled to the brim. I'm going to breed you, and you're going to beg me for it."

The sound of his zipper, followed by the rustle of fabric, sent a thrill of anticipation through your body, your core clenching with need.

Osamu gripped your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he lined his cock up with your dripping entrance.

"This is mine," he growled, his voice laced with possessive hunger as he pressed into you, his cock stretching your walls with a delicious friction that sent a ripple of pleasure through your body. "And I'm going to make sure everyone knows it."

You clung to him, your nails raking across his back as he buried himself inside you, his girth filling you completely. His thrusts were hard and deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit, the pressure building with each passing second.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your eyes locked with his as he fucked you with a ferocious passion, his hips slamming into yours, his cock reaching places that made you see stars.

Your moans mingled with his, the sounds of pleasure filling the air, the two of you lost in a primal dance of ecstasy.

The feeling of him, his thick shaft pulsing inside you, his breath hot against your neck, was almost too much to bear. But just as the familiar tension coiled low in your abdomen, just as the pressure threatened to overwhelm you, Osamu pulled out, leaving you teetering on the brink of release.

"Not yet," he growled, his gaze dark and wild as he flipped you onto your stomach, his hand gripping your hips, pulling you towards him.

Your fingers curled around the sheets, a moan slipping past your lips as his cock teased your entrance, his tip barely grazing your folds.

"I'm not done with you yet," he murmured, his voice laced with desire as he plunged into you, his pace frantic and demanding.

Your walls clenched around him, your body shuddering with each thrust, his name tumbling from your lips in a breathless cry.

"That's it, sweetheart. Take it. Take my cock," he growled, his hand snaking around your throat, pulling you flush against his chest, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "I'm going to breed you like the little cumdumpster you are. I'm going to fill you so full of my cum that you'll be leaking it for days."

His words ignited a fire in your core, the friction of his cock against your walls sending a wave of pleasure through your body, your climax crashing over you in an earth-shattering orgasm.

Your walls clamped down on him, your body writhing beneath him, his name falling from your lips in a breathless chant.

"Cumming for me already?" he asked, his voice heavy with arousal. "I'm not surprised. Your body was made for this, made for me. You're going to take all my cum, aren't you?"

You could barely form a coherent response, his relentless pounding overwhelming your senses.

The feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you, his grip on your throat tightening, his breath hot against your skin, was almost too much to bear.

The coil within you tightened, the pressure mounting, until it finally snapped, your vision going white as another orgasm crashed over you, even more powerful than the last.

"Fuck," he hissed, his hips stuttering as he reached his own peak, his cock pulsing inside you, spurts of hot cum filling you to the brim.

"That's it. Take it. Take my cum, pretty."

You sagged against him, your limbs trembling, your core clenching around him, milking him for every last drop.

You felt him lean forward, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low, husky rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "I'm not done with you yet. This is just the beginning."

As the minutes passed, you slowly came down from your high, the room coming back into focus, the scent of sweat and sex permeating the air. Your heart hammered in your chest, your body aching from the strain of being used, but Osamu's hold on you was gentle, his touch soft as he cradled you against his chest.

"You did so well, sweetheart," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, his fingers trailing over your skin. "I'm so proud of you."

You hummed in response, too exhausted to speak, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

But the moment his hands began to roam once more, his fingers teasing your still-sensitive folds, his lips trailing down your neck, you knew that the night was far from over.

His touch, his love, his desire, was a drug that you could never get enough of. And as his lips claimed yours in a bruising kiss, his cock hardening against your thigh, you knew that you were powerless to resist.

As the night wore on, the intensity between you and Osamu only seemed to grow, each moment more heated than the last. His touch, his kiss, his very presence consumed you, drawing you deeper into a world where only the two of you existed.

Hours later, as the first light of dawn crept into the room, the evidence of your passion was clear. The bed was a tangled mess of sheets, the pillows scattered haphazardly across the floor. Your clothes lay strewn about, a reminder of the urgency with which they had been discarded.

Your body hummed with a pleasant ache, a physical reminder of the pleasure you had shared. Osamu's arm was draped across your waist, his chest pressed against your back as he slept, his breath tickling the nape of your neck.

Osamu had been true to his word, claiming you again and again, filling you with his cum until your core was dripping with it, the smell of sex permeating the air.

You couldn't remember how many times you had orgasmed, how many times he had driven you to the brink of madness, but the memory of his touch, his lips, his cock, was seared into your mind.

The feeling of him inside you, the warmth of his seed flooding your womb, was enough to make your toes curl.

You could still feel him, his cock still snugly encased within your gummy walls, ensuring that none of his potent seed escaped you while he slept.

Just as you were about to drift off to sleep again, a sudden commotion from the living room jolted you awake. Beside you, Osamu stirred, his brow furrowing in irritation.

"What the hell?" he muttered, his voice rough with sleep.

Before either of you could investigate, the bedroom door burst open, revealing a grinning Atsumu. He took one look at your naked forms tangled together on the bed and let out a low whistle.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. "Looks like someone had a good night."

Osamu grabbed a pillow and chucked it at his brother's head. "Get out, you pervert!"

Atsumu dodged the projectile with a laugh, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I just came to make sure you two lovebirds were still alive. You weren't answering your phones."

You felt your cheeks heat up, suddenly very aware of your state of undress. Pulling the sheet up to cover yourself, you shot Atsumu a glare. "We're fine, thanks. Now, if you don't mind..."

Atsumu's grin only widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Sure, sure. I'll leave you to it. But just so you know, the walls in this place are pretty thin. You might want to keep it down next time."

With a wink and a cackle, he ducked out of the room, narrowly avoiding the second pillow Osamu launched at his head.

Osamu flopped back onto the bed with a groan, throwing an arm over his eyes. "I'm going to kill him."

You couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation cutting through the lingering tension. "Maybe next time we should go to my place," you suggested, snuggling up to Osamu's side.

He peeked at you from beneath his arm, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Or maybe next time we should be even louder, just to piss him off."

You grinned, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I like the way you think."

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #hq x reader #hq smut #hq x reader smut #osamu miya #osamu smut #osamu x reader #osamu x reader smut #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader smut #miya osamu smut

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majinbangus · 19 days ago

Note

Maybe...Reader gets real angry at guarddog!ghost and make him sleep on the blanket. Or not letting him on couches/beds.

Because if they want to play it like this, she's alright. Actually, she has a second collar for Johnny.

Maybe

i was wanting to play with this idea ( ͡°( ͡° ͜ʖ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°) ͡°) -> more here

He's gawping at the sight before him.

"What's goin' on here?"

When Soap came home, he wasn't really expecting anything different. Just you, your dog, and a nice warm welcome back from the both of you. But not this. He was expecting anything else but this.

Kneeling on the ground, below the couch and right next to your feet is Ghost, not in his usual spot on the couch where you would normally be sitting in his lap. Soap raises his brow curiously at the adorable disgruntlement on your face compared to the content amusement radiating off of the lieutenant turned guard dog.

"I'm in the doghouse," Ghost informs, tone oddly facetious considering the obvious trouble he's in with you. In fact, he appears proud when he twists to look up at you from his spot on the ground. "'Parently I was 'barking too much' whatever the hell that means. Just pointed out a few flaws in 'er logic about something."

You're quick to rebuke him. "Hey, I told you if you were going to bark, at least do it properly."

Soap can't hold back his amused smile at how assertive you sound. He looks to Ghost to see his reaction, and instead of acting chastised, there's a flippant sort of glee tinged with arousal when he speaks again, slow and dark, "Woof, woof, pet."

You squint at the endearment, silently debating with yourself if you should do something about the cheek, but ultimately let it slide. Soap shakes his head in disbelief, but also chuckles much like Ghost did. He walks over, stopping by the kneeling man, exchanging a knowing smirk with him.

"Why don't you go easy on the dog?" Soap suggests, taking on a more lenient approach as he pats Ghost's head, sharing an amused look with him. "He's always been a good boy, hasn't he?"

"Woof," Ghost repeats, pointedly looking at you.

"See?" Soap points out. "Obedient!"

"Keep talking and I'll put a collar on you too, MacTavish," You threaten, turning your ire on him. "Make you both sleep on a blanket instead of the bed."

An interesting thought, but as much as he likes seeing this side of you, he and Ghost will have to keep you humble before you bite off more than you can chew.

"Careful, sweets." Soap chuckles lowly, deepening his voice in that way that makes your thighs clench. He hears you gulp and an amused huff from Ghost as he flashes his canines, leaning a shadow over you and forcing you to look up at him from the couch. He lets his smile widen into something a little feral. "I gave you Ghost to take care of because he's good for first time dog owners. He's quick to listen and willing to please, but I don't think you can handle two dogs. Got that?"

You swallow thickly, properly chastened, and weakly nod your head. "Yes, sir."

"Good girl."

sorry in this au i think ghost is gonna be the only dog, although maybe you're all a little dog-coded here. also you and ghost would be the only dogs soap likes.

#bangus answers #liminsendhelp #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #141 sweet treat <3

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v3nomly · 3 months ago

Text

— HOW THEY REACT TO SOMEONE HITTING ON YOU

• characters — Childe ; Zhongli ; Wanderer | Aventurine ; Welt ; Blade

• synopsis — An unsuspecting guy hits on you. it doesn’t take long for your partner to swoop in and shut it down.

• tags & warnings — Established relationship, jealousy, kissing.

• a/n — Hihi!! My requests are open so feel free to pop in. I write for a couple fandoms and I'm always looking for moots. Enjoy!!

Writing Catalog

— THOSE WHO FLAUNT ; CHILDE or AVENTURINE

Before you can even shut the guy down yourself, an arm snakes around your waist, pulling you away from the man trying to shoot his shot and into the arms of your lover. It wasn’t unusual for them to be overly affectionate in public, but something about their hold tells you this is more than a loving embrace, but an assertion of dominance.

“Sorry, I took so long, Angel. Didn’t miss me too much, did you?” They ask, leaving no room for you to answer as their lips press against your own. The action spoke louder than any words could. You were his.

The man across from you cleared his throat uncomfortably, causing your partner to pull away reluctantly. Their body relaxed against yours, exuding an air of nonchalance, “Did you need something?”

— THOSE WHO SEETHE ; WANDERER or BLADE

How could you be so oblivious? The man's desperate attempts at seduction were evident, yet you remained blissfully unaware. Conflicted feelings coursed through your lover’s veins. On one hand, there was something almost comical about the scene. If it were anyone else, your partner may have been able to laugh at the man’s pathetic nature. Yet, it was you, which only left them with the bitter taste of ire. How dare this man think he’s deserving of your attention?

Anger radiated from behind you, something you remained ignorant of. Your boyfriend leveled a glare at the man who seemed to be just as oblivious as yourself. Until their eyes met. The man stilled, words dying in his throat, face paling as he swallowed quickly, before excusing himself. You turn towards your partner with a look of confusion and they only shrug, their eyes filled with nothing but the gentle love reserved only for you.

— THOSE WHO REDIRECT ; ZHONGLI or WELT

They weren’t the jealous type. Years of experience and wisdom had taught them certain things were better let go. Yet they couldn’t help the uncomfortable feeling that snaked up their spine, engulfing them in its vexatious nature. Networking was an important part of your job, something he had witnessed you do countless times before, but this man irked him to his core.

Your lover’s hand comes to rest against the small of your back, grabbing your attention, and pulling your eyes away from the man you were conversing with. Covertly they take control of the conversation, steering it away from the man’s obnoxious attempts at wooing you, and into one that keeps your eyes on him. He can’t help the satisfaction that rises in his chest as the man deflates at the casual display of intimacy. Or the way pride flutters in his body when you smile at him. Your partner wasn’t the jealous type, but he could be.

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daycourtofficial · 7 months ago

Text

Amber eyes, looking into mine

Summary: Eris finds something in his study that triggers him into a frozen state of panic. Who better suited to pulling Eris from his past than his future?

Author’s note: I wrote this in under an hour so please be nice and if there are any typos, no there aren’t 💕 Also technically this is part of my gingerfucker series, but can be read alone and she doesn’t make an appearance, it’s all Eris and the baby okay byeee

TW: panic attack, mentions of being whipped and being burnt

Word count: ~1k

A trade agreement sat on his desk, one that predates his tenure as high lord. Eris had found the document stuffed away in a drawer, abandoning what he was searching for as soon as he recognized it.

His father’s large, obnoxious signature at the bottom, the ridiculously high tariffs on imported goods. He could hear the whip in his ears, feeling his body tense with memory.

It was all too much. He had spoken with his father about the deal, wanting to give incentives for traders to come into Autumn rather than deterrents. Beron had laughed at him, telling him that everything anyone needs can be found in Autumn.

The night hadn’t ended there.

Beron had whipped him for having such a ridiculous idea in front of the other courtiers.

“No son of mine will appear so idiotic before others,” he had said, his voice ringing in Eris’s ears.

Eris was seated in his chair in his study, but his mind was elsewhere. Down deep, deep in the dungeons of the Forest House, a trek he made many nights, his blood dripping through the house as he limped back to his own chambers.

Chubby hands grip the fabric of his trousers, a body too small traveling up his legs, climbing for what they love most in this world. Little feet find their footing on his thighs, hands leaning against his torso to support their weight.

Amber eyes look at him, searching for praise at the impossible task they just completed.

His eyes.

What his eyes used to look like, before Beron burnt the joy out of them.

Eris is frozen in place, caught in a spiral of hatred and loathing by his son. His beautiful, wonderfully funny son, who looks at him with the love and adoration his mother looks at him with.

If his son knew all that he had done to prevent Beton’s ire, would his eyes still look for Eris in every room? Would his eyes still fill with tears, his lungs exhaling every breath at bedtime, unable to sleep without seeing his father one last time?

The spitting image of him, his mother finding an old portrait of himself at this age, his son a direct image of the portrait. Was this how he looked when Beron began his tirade of cruelty against his family? Did soft coos of a babe turn into wails at any contact with Beron?

All he had ever known was the flame, the flame within himself that refused to be extinguished, and the flames his father tormented him with for centuries.

He feels those flames on his skin, his own flame desperate to fight it. He feels the heat licking up his forearms, he feels it cascading down his back in waves, searching for every inch of unclaimed skin. He clenches his fists, desperate to bring himself back to reality. Instead, his breathing becomes more ragged, his jaw clenching.

He can smell the flesh burning off of him, feel his stomach churning, his throat filling with bile at the smell, so strong he could taste it.

Tiny fingers grip into his hair, yanking lightly, trying to find balance. The feeling jolts him back, back from the past, back from a place that doesn’t exist anymore.

The babe stands in his lap, toes gripping his trousers as he tries to learn how to use them. A warmth so unnatural from something so young radiates off of his son. A tear splashes onto the little foot, which the babe immediately burns off.

Giggles fill the room at his show of his powers and Eris is finally able to move again as he wraps his arms around the young princeling, so unaware of how the world can burn.

He holds him in a tight embrace, squishing his face into the tiny neck, breathing him in. He gives himself five seconds, clutching the clothes covering the babe’s chest.

Five.

He breathes in deeply, his chest heaving with sobs that escape his mouth.

Four.

It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair. It had never been fair. Nothing was fair.

Three.

It took hours to kill Beron, centuries of scheming, and his presence was still felt throughout the court, throughout him-

He feels something cold and wet on his neck, tiny hands still gripping his hair, but his son is slobbering across his neck, his cheek, the movement tickling Eris’s neck. He laughs as he realizes that his son is mimicking how they make him laugh by blowing raspberries into his neck, his cheeks, his stomach.

He delicately pulls the face from his neck, leaning his forehead against his firstborn’s forehead. His eyes are wide with wonder. Everything is new to him and the worst thing he’s experienced is dropping his favorite toy in a mud puddle.

He looks at his father, not sure what to make of him, until Eris slowly smiles at him, his eyes lightening with fondness, catching a bit of the spark from his son’s eyes.

And the baby in his arms smiles back, grabbing Eris’s nose in excitement as he babbles noncoherent sounds. Eris stretches his legs out, sinking into his chair a bit, letting his back relax into the chair. Eris responds to the babbling, occasional hums and responses to whatever he was trying to convey to his father.

Someday, the words would come. They would flow freely, spilling from his mouth in anger, in sadness, in disbelief. They would come more easily, small things setting off his memories and not allowing him to think of anything until they left him. He would share the burden of his memories.

Someday, the words would come. But not today. Today the incoherent babbling was enough.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar fanfiction #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris x reader

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fandoms-x-reader · 30 days ago

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The Avatar of Greed

Headcannons

Requested By: @rainedroplets

Summary: The brothers' reactions to finding out MC is in love with Mammon and that the two of them had been dating for a while when they were planning on confessing.

Bonus Mammon part at the end! <3

Lucifer’s pride was definitely hurt when he found out that you and Mammon had been dating.

He had thought that the two of you had a childish crush on one other. But, he didn’t see it lasting.

After all, Mammon was the worst when it came to money and he was also terribly impulsive with his decisions.

There was no way the two of you would have a stable future together.

Whereas Lucifer could give you everything you could ever want. Like financial stability and proper respect from the denizens of the Devildom among other things.

He wanted to confess his feelings to you over a lavish evening where he could really take the time to spoil you and show you what being in a relationship with him would look like.

It was only after he planned it all out that he found out that not only were you in love with Mammon, but the two of you had been dating for a while.

Lucifer didn’t believe the news when he first heard it.

Mammon’s childish but kindhearted nature always held a special spot in Lucifer’s heart, but he never thought he would lose you to his younger brother.

He takes some time to regain his composure, but once he does, Lucifer acts unfazed by the whole ordeal.

He’ll continue to act as though nothing has changed and he’ll wear a smile all the same, hiding the true emotions that linger under the surface.

He’ll be dying on the inside but laughing on the outside - all to save face.

Levi is more of the suffer-in-silence type of person.

Finding out that you and Mammon were in love with each other was a huge blow to him.

You had opened Levi up in ways that he never knew were possible.

You not only got him to want to be around others again, but you made him believe in himself.

And that was something that he not only loved you for but admired you for.

It took him a long time to admit his feelings for you to himself, and an even longer time to work up the courage to tell you.

And when he could no longer hold the words in anymore, he found out about you and Mammon.

It definitely broke his heart, but Levi will try to play it off despite the fact that he’s a blushing and stuttering mess.

He’ll immediately return to his shut-in and self-deprecating tendencies.

He won’t talk to either of you for a long time, and whenever he does see one of you, you could see him doing everything in his power to hold back his sin.

Levi radiates anger almost as strong as Satan, though he doesn’t know if he’s mad at you for choosing Mammon, mad at Mammon for stealing you, or mad at himself for not making a move sooner.

There’s only one piece of advice to give when Satan finds out that you and Mammon are dating: Get out of the way.

Satan will definitely go into a rage frenzy at the news, for many different reasons.

First, he’s doubting his own skills because he should have been able to observe the fact that the two of you were dating.

Second, you chose…Mammon?! Of all the demons?! The scummy, money-grabbing one?

Third, he’s heartbroken and a bit embarrassed that he confessed his feelings to you and anger was the only way he knew how to cope.

Satan was very meticulous in planning the perfect way to tell you how he felt about you. He wanted you to feel as special as you always made him feel.

In his state of ire, he harshly told you what he thought about your relationship with Mammon before storming off.

He’ll only calm down after half of the House of Lamentation is destroyed; and, when the anger finally began to wane, he deeply regretted the way talked to and treated you.

He’ll give you a sincere apology but he’ll try to avoid the two of you, afraid of sparking his rage again.

He tends to hold himself in high regard, like Lucifer, so he’ll do his best to act normal around the two of you, but if he sees any kind of PDA, be prepared for another meltdown.

Asmo is by far the most heartbroken and the most dramatic about the news.

You were the most beautiful thing Asmo had ever seen, and as such, it only made sense for you to be with the most beautiful thing anybody else had ever seen.

Asmo had so many fantasies about the two of you being a power couple.

There were so many things he wanted to do with you and so many ways he wanted to express his love for you.

The first step was confessing the way he felt about you; but, he didn’t expect it to both start and end there.

Hearing that you and Mammon were in love hurt Asmo, but hearing that the two of you had been dating for a while shattered him as his mind filled with questions.

How many nights have the two of you spent together? How many times have you hugged? Kissed? More??

Imaging Mammon’s hands on you the way he wanted his own hands on you sent a shudder through his spine.

Asmo cried at the news and made sure everyone else knew about his woe.

Once the initial phase passed, Asmo tried to act as though he had moved on quickly.

He pretended as though he could care less about your relationship as he surrounded himself with people who were too willing to love him.

Asmo’s focus shifts to only having fun, afraid of opening himself up to the possibility of really loving only one person again.

Beel’s expression when he finds out about the two of you pulls at your heartstrings more than you would have ever guessed.

Beel had fallen for you hard and fast.

Everything about you drew him in.

Whenever you would enter a room, he would always light up with the biggest smile.

Whenever you would ask him to do something with you, he would get so excited.

And when you would accidentally brush against him, Beel would feel butterflies in his stomach.

This was the first time Beel had ever felt this way about anyone and because of that, he was so sure that you felt the same way about him.

He admitted his feelings to you in the privacy of his bedroom, something he was so grateful for when he found out the truth about your feelings.

He looked like a puppy that had just been kicked and did his best to hide his pain and give you a supportive smile.

At the end of the day, Beel has the biggest heart and he wanted both you and his older brother to be happy.

He just wished your happiness wasn’t each other. He wished your happiness was him the way his happiness was you.

He doesn’t make a big deal out of it or treat either of you poorly, but you can definitely tell your relationship with him has changed.

The news of you and Mammon rocked Belphie’s entire world.

He guessed he shouldn’t be surprised that you would choose someone other than him.

After all, given your past, how could you ever trust him?

Belphie tried to make up for the things he did.

He tried to show you how much you changed him and how much he cared for you.

But, it clearly wasn’t enough.

Belphie told you that he loved you when the two of you were up in the attic.

He said it so softly and quietly that you didn’t hear it the first time.

He was even more embarrassed the second time he admitted it and you could see the adoration in his eyes for you.

But, no matter how painful it was, you had to tell Belphie the truth.

Belphie got so upset when you told him - experiencing a whirlwind of emotions.

He left the attic immediately, not even sparing you a second glance before leaving.

He needed space from you and time to process what he was feeling.

Cuddle sessions did not happen again after that day and Belphie made snide comments about Mammon here and there under his breath whenever he saw the two of you together.

Part of it was because he was jealous, but most of it was because he had never felt so heartbroken before.

You have to walk a very fine line when you break the news to him. One wrong word and it’ll most likely bring back his beliefs that he should hate humans as an attempt to hide from the pain he was feeling.

Mammon was head over heels in love with you.

Whenever the two of you weren’t together, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He missed you so much and wanted to spend all of his time with you.

And when the two of you were together, he couldn’t keep his hands and lips off of you.

He could hold you in his arms forever, never wanting to let you go.

And it was his goal to leave small kisses on every inch of your skin to make sure you were completely loved.

It was hard keeping your relationship a secret from everyone.

He wanted to show the world that you loved him.

He wanted to brag about how you chose him and tell everyone how in love the two of you were.

He wanted to post pictures of the two of you together and write sappy captions that would make everyone else sick.

But he didn’t care because he was yours and you were his.

So, when everyone else found out about your relationship, he was relieved.

It was hard for a little while. It seemed like everyone hated the two of you and being in the House of Lamentation was like walking into a lion’s den.

And part of him felt bad when he saw his brothers looking so sad and heartbroken.

But, once everyone calmed down, Mammon was so happy that everyone knew.

He could finally act like your boyfriend around others without walking on eggshells.

And others could see that someone like you actually saw something in him. That you didn’t think that he was a waste of space like everyone else.

Going public with your relationship made it real and it was the best thing that ever happened to him.

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sunflowersteves · 1 year ago

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i'm not cute || m.o.

pairing || miguel o'hara x fem!reader

summary || Miguel always loved when you played with his hair.

author's notes || this is my first miguel fic and im v excited!! there will be much more to come <3 also, my spanish is v v v limited and i tried following what ppl were saying in the miguel tag but please let me know if I need to fix anything!!

warnings || none, fluff, it's tooth-rotting

“Did you just braid my hair?”

You paused—froze even. Your hands stilled in between his luscious, soft hair, and it took every ounce inside of you to not continue to feel through each strand of his.

“Uh, no?” It was bashful.

You inwardly winced at the extremely unconvincing tone of your voice. You couldn’t see, but his lips curled into the smallest of smiles. His spidey-DNA, as you liked to call it, sensed the heat that radiated off of your body.

After an unsuccessful mission, Miguel came home in a state of ire. His eyebrows were furrowed, anger rolling off of his body in waves as his chest heaved up and down. But as soon as your hand placed itself across the plains of his chest and soothed the fabric of his suit, everything started to dissipate.

The anger, the grief, the guilt—everything.

You gently pulled his wrist, and he blindly followed you into the living room of your makeshift apartment he built in Nueva York. You sat right above him on the couch, brush in your hand as you stroked through each strand of hair. His frame practically barrelled over you, despite him sitting on the ground with his back to the legs of the couch.

In return, he wanted to desperately turn around and press light kisses into your skin, but he refrained. He knew that all you wanted to do was comfort his tense muscles.

“That didn’t sound very convincing.”

You bite your lip, sheepishly, as you ignored his comment and started to braid another part of his hair. You very carefully twisted the fluffy soft hair between one another and grinned at the What he didn’t have to know wouldn’t hurt him, right? Well, apparently, you were wrong because once you tugged on his hair, yet again, and he practically jumps.

“¡Ay!” He yelps and turns his head to look at you, “¿Qué mierda haces?”

Your eyes widened, “Miggy! Oh—I’m so sorry!” You go to reach for his head again in an attempt to soothe the pain that you caused, but he caught your wrist.

If you weren’t too concerned about tugging on his hair, you would have noticed the slight change in his lips that turned into a sly smirk. “Cariño,” He warned. His voice was gravelly and rough—the sound sending shivers down your spine. “¿Qué voy a hacer contigo?”

In one motion, he’s hovering over you. “Hmm?”

Your mouth opens in surprise—the spark in your heartbeat not going unnoticed by the man before you. “I–I just, Miguel—” You were starting to get nervous under his gaze—just like you always do.

Pure adoration flashed between his ruby eyes, and his finger gently rubbed against the side of your cheek. It was so gentle and affectionate that it almost created tears against your waterline. He loved when you got nervous and playful—it always struck against his chest and seized him whole. He wanted to see the effect that he had on you in every waking moment, it seemed.

He smiled. “You’re cute.”

You gasped, attempting to turn the tables around and flip him over. “I am not cute!” Alas, you were unsuccessful.

He laughed. It was hearty and pretty against your ears. “You’re right. You’re the cutest.”

You grumbled under your breath, and it took every ounce of control not to kiss the puffing of your cheeks. “Whatever, you’re the cutest. Not me.”

Miguel smiled—teeth showing and entirely genuine as he took in your playful expression and fingers that twisted the short hair against the base of his neck.

“I’ll eventually make you admit it, mi alma. Don't you worry."

¿Qué mierda haces? - What the fuck are you doing?

Cariño - Honey

¿Qué voy a hacer contigo? - What am i going to do with you?

Mi alma - my soul

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderman across the spiderverse #no spoilers

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dovkss · 1 year ago

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Dumb Bitch

word count: 5.8k

summary: after you pine after him for so long with no luck, Katsuki finally decides to take you as his; thanks to his best friend.

warning: 18+; mean dom! katsuki; dirty talk (ish); oral (m receiving); rough sex; spitting; choking; breath play; degradation; hair pulling; manipulation; dacryphilia; edging; size kink; misogyny; yandere tendencies; kinda ooc, I was having a lot of fun with this one; kinda dubcon-ish?, reader is drunk for the most part; katsuki is an ass; poor eijiro won’t take no for an answer and ends up getting fucked over bc of it; katsuki and ei are basically frenemies

all characters are aged up !!

a/n: my first published fic on this blog omg !! sorry for any mistakes or anything, I kinda rushed this but I enjoyed making this, hope you enjoy reading it :)

Kirishima stood in the middle of his room with his phone in his hand as a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his lips. He knew of your little crush on his best friend and he couldn’t help but want to play cupid. He had the perfect plan, all he needed to do now was execute it. Sure, he knew Bakugou's disdain for you ran deep, but he also couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that there could be something more.

Dialing your number, he chuckled to himself, imagining the reaction he’d get out of you. It wasn't long before the ringback tone was cut off by the call connecting. Immediately you greeted him with a voice filled with joy, as usual.

“Hi, Kiri!” you greeted.

“Hey hey! How’s it going?” he asked.

You hummed in delight. He heard tiny giggles in the background. “Great,” you exclaimed. “The girls and I are having a sleepover right now… if you wanna talk to Mina, she’s right here- fuck!”

From the sound of it, you were hit as a sign to shut up. Kirishima chuckled at your guys’ antics. “Well, this is easy enough knowing you’re all in one place! I’m throwing a little get-together this weekend, I want you all to be there!”

It got a little quiet on the other end of the line, the only thing being heard is some shuffling and slight whispers.

“Hmm, who’s all gonna be there?” you asked curiously.

Kirishima smiled. “He’s gonna be there.”

He could almost hear the collective gasp that came from you and your friends. Then it went dead silent. You muted yourself. The redhead imagined your guys’ squeals.

You cleared your throat, going back to trying to act normal, and unmuted yourself. “Count us in, Kiri!” you exclaimed. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Everything was going to plan. You and he said your goodbyes before the call ended. Kirishima couldn’t help but wear a satisfied grin. He knew he had sparked a glimmer of hope within you. The idea of igniting a connection between you and Bakugou excited him. But it was soon dampened when Bakugou stormed into the room with a couple of cans of soda in his hands.

“What the hell was that about?” he asked.

Kirishima knew he couldn’t lie to him. Bakugou knows when he lies. Bakugou set the sodas on the wood floor and grabbed two cans. He tossed one to his friend and opened up his own. He sat on Kirishima’s bed, facing him, awaiting an answer.

Kirishima popped his soda open and took a sip. The room was filled with tense silence, even if it was for only a moment. “I just invited some last-minute people to the party,” he said.

True.

Bakugou’s vermillion eyes narrowed. His intense gaze radiated intense annoyance. “Who?” he questioned some more.

Kirishima winced playfully at Bakugou’s usual harsh response. He would rather intend to pique the ash blonde’s curiosity rather than ignite his ire.

"Don't worry about it, bro. We'll see everybody there!"

For the first time, Bakugou wanted to be wrong. He shook his head in disapproval before chugging down some more of his soda. "You're a fucking idiot, Kirishima. I thought you knew better than to invite her."

Kirishima squinted at Bakugou. "I get that you don't like her, but you're also being way too quick to judge. Get to know her a little better, she isn't who you think she is."

Bakugou scoffed, his voice filled with disbelief. "You think I would waste my time on someone like her? You should know me better than that."

"I just think that maybe-"

"That fucking shallow, attention-seeking whore. I have no interest in girls like her."

Kirishima's expression softened, his voice gentle but firm. "Not cool, man. She's still my friend," he started, "and I think you watch too many movies. Not every girl that cares about how they look on the outside is some dumb bitch."

Bakugou's scowl deepened, frustration etched on his face. "I don't need you playing matchmaker, Kirishima. I can take care of myself."

Kirishima sighed and raised his hands in defeat. "Fine! I'll let it go!" He then offered a small smile to defuse the tension. "Let's focus on getting this shit ready. We need to go out and buy some cups and food and... whatever else I can't think of on the spot right now!"

Bakugou grumbled in agreement. "Whatever. Let's get this shit over with."

Your shoes clicked softly against the polished floor of the library as you anxiously scanned the aisles of the bookshelves. You were searching for Kirishima and you were in a bit of a rush.

Earlier that morning while you were packing your purse, you realized your beloved wallet, adorned with sparkling rhinestones, wasn't on your vanity. You would never dare forget it; you relied on it because it had every card you could think of in there. And some backup cash.

You rummaged through other bags and drawers, panic rising within you. It was one of your most treasured possessions, something your mother gave you as a gift before you left for college. You desperately needed that wallet, especially now, with an important event just hours away.

Realization struck you like a bolt of lightning. You remembered opening it to pay the pizza delivery man at Kirishima's house the previous day when you were studying with him and the girls. You must've left it behind. You were so stupid!

With a sigh of frustration, you dialed Kirishima's number from your backup flip phone since your main phone was dead. Your fingers trembled lightly as you held it up to your ear, you hoped beyond hope that he had seen it. You didn't expect him to pick up because he wouldn't possibly recognize the number but he did.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Kiri! Hi, how are you? Good? That's great," you greeted eagerly, "um, do you by any chance know if I left my wallet at your place?" You rocked back and forth as you shoved your purse into the front seat of your car, putting your key into the ignition.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. "Oh, that's yours? The one with a bunch of glitter… crap on it? Yeah, I have it on me right now actually." he said.

You let out a sigh of relief and smiled. "Great, can I pick it up from your right now? I'm kind of in a hurry..."

He chuckled. "Of course! I'll be on campus for a couple more hours, just swing by the library."

With a renewed sense of purpose, you drove to campus. It took you way longer than usual due to traffic, but you made it nonetheless.

You made it to the library and began scanning the room, looking for your friend. The scent of old books filled the air, and the hushed whispers of students studying added an aura of calmness.

You spotted Kirishima in a corner, engrossed in a thick textbook, writing down notes as well, and you made your way toward him. As you approached, your eyes inadvertently fell upon a figure sitting next to him doing the same.

A slightly taller man with spiky blonde hair. You could tell by the way he sat, he was undeniably arrogant. Katsuki Bakugou.

Your heart skipped a beat and a nervous flutter ran through you. You'd heard rumors of his fiery personality. His ability to put anyone who dared to cross his path in their place. You were very curious about him.

"Kiri!" you chirped, flashing a bright smile.

Kirishima looked up from his book and returned the kind gesture. He put his finger up to his lips, reminding you that they were still in a library. You quietly apologized and laughed at yourself.

"It's in my bag, hold on," he whispered. He picked up his backpack from the floor next to him, unzipping it to go through the contents inside.

Your gaze wandered across the library. You tried your best to not look at Bakugou. It was hard not to, though, he was very handsome. Finally, you gave in and turned your attention to him.

You offered a tentative smile. "Hi there! I don't think we've met before."

Bakugou's piercing gaze met yours. He was unimpressed and regarded you as if your presence irritated him. Unbeknownst to you, it did.

Your smile faltered for a moment, but you refused to let his cold demeanor deter you. "I'm a friend of Kirishima's-"

"I know who you are," he responded curtly, his tone laced with thinly veiled contempt.

You felt your cheeks heat up. His voice was so intimidating and so attractive. "Katsuki Bakugou, right? I've heard a lot about you."

His dirty look became more prominent. "Yeah, I've heard enough about you too."

Your heart sank a little at his words. What did he hear? You weren't aware of any rumors of you or anything, and you were kind to everyone. The dummies, weirdos, everyone!

Kirishima chimed in. "Be nice, man," he said as he got up with your wallet in his hand. He handed it to you and you took it from him.

"Thanks so much, Kiri," you said, a sense of relief washing over you. "You have no idea how much I rely on this thing."

He shook his head, his smile showcasing his sharp teeth. "Don’t we all!"

You nodded, your gaze fixed on your reflection in your little compact mirror. "You saved the day, yet again, Kiri. I owe you one."

Ever since then, you got to know more about Bakugou thanks to Kirishima. How despite what many would believe, he's organized, and a clean freak. How much he hates being around kids yet are so great with them. Just how well he can play the drums or cook.

You thought you were subtle but it was obvious that you longed for Bakugou. It wasn't your fault he was everything you wanted in a man.

He had it all. Hardworking, determined, and confident. It was so sexy. The only problem was that he didn't seem interested at all. If anything, he seemed to despise you. To him, you were just an annoying bug that kept coming back even after being swatted at.

You wanted to win him over. When you knew you would be around him, you purposefully dressed a little sexier. Bending over to grab things even while wearing the shortest skirt that barely covered your ass and tight shirts to enhance your chest and waist.

Bakugou didn't even spare you a sympathetic glance. But you kept going. Tonight was the party and this was your last chance. If you couldn't even do as much as strike up a conversation with him, you told yourself you'd give up. You were too pretty for all this effort to be put into a man. But god, he was so hot.

Your anticipation grew as you and your friends approached Kirishima's house. The usually quiet neighborhood was transformed into a hive of activity. Cars lined the streets and the sound of laughter and music spilled from the open windows. What was meant to be a "get-together" had turned into a Project X party.

"Todoroki, could you go any damn slower?" Mina complained, her seat belt already off.

"You want me to run over these people?" he asked. You giggled, knowing his question was literal.

Mina groaned in annoyance, mumbling a small 'no.' Momo was in the front seat next to her boyfriend. "Don't listen to her, she's just a little impatient."

Finally, Todoroki got you guys to the front of the house. You were the first to get out, followed by Mina coming out behind you. Momo kissed her boyfriend. Then gave him another kiss. Then another.

Mina whined loudly. "Oh my god, Momo! He's just going to park the car! He's not leaving you, come on!"

You leave them behind in silence. As you pushed open the front door, the energy hit you like a tidal wave. Every inch of the house was packed with people, bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music. The air was thick with alcohol, weed, and the hum of people trying to converse over the loud music.

You looked around, mouth agape. You didn't even notice Mina and Momo by your side. Their eyes widened at the sight before them.

Mina leaned in closer to be heard above the noise. "This place is insane!" she exclaimed, her voice barely audible amidst the chaos.

Momo nodded in agreement. "I don't think any of us expected this. Kirishima sure knows how to throw a party."

Your eyes scanned the room in search of the boy. You caught a glimpse of his familiar red hair through the crowd and motioned for your friends to follow.

It was a challenge to move through people. Your face scrunched up in disgust as the air grew warmer. The smell finally getting to you, it was gross. Sweaty bodies rubbed against you as you made your way through. You gagged. The once cozy house had transformed into something completely unrecognizable.

Finally reaching Kirishima's side, you tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and greeted you. It took you a moment before realizing he was shirtless. And his hair wasn't done how it usually was. It was messy and wet.

"What happened here? This was supposed to be a small get-together!" you asked, evidently in disbelief.

Kirishima laughed. "I know! It got a bit out of hand! But hey, more people, more fun, right? By the way, you look gorgeous!"

You wore a corset dress. The bodice was designed with pretty lacing and the mini skirt boasted a slit on each side. The white set was complete with thick stilettos and makeup that accentuated your natural features.

You felt your face get hot and you smiled, giving him a little twirl to show off your outfit. Kirishima dog whistled playfully and handed you a plastic red cup. You looked inside and sniffed it. Alcohol. Strong, strong alcohol.

Taking what Kirishima said, you and your friends were immersed in the lively atmosphere of the party. You all danced; twirling and spinning, laughter blending in with the melodies as you lost yourself.

With a drink in each of your guys' hands, your inhibitions further dissolved, and you found yourselves caught in a whirlwind of euphoria. You clinked cups, toasting to the night, and gulped down the concoction.

Your mind was no longer consumed by thoughts of Bakugou. The weight of your infatuation was lifted, replaced with a sense of liberation. You reveled in the present moment, finding comfort exactly where you were.

Time lost its grip and you were having fun. By the time you were worn out, your cheeks were flushed and the warmth of the alcohol coursed through your veins, the effects beginning to take a toll on your mind and body. What was just an exhilarating atmosphere now seemed overwhelming, your energy dwindling with each passing moment. Your giggles faded and were replaced with yawns that you couldn't stifle.

Kirishima approached you with a concerned look. He gently placed a hand on your head, stroking your forehead with his thumb. "You are exhausted..."

You closed your eyes for a tiny bit of rest and your ability to hold yourself up became harder and harder. Kirishima shooed away some random person off the couch to make some room for you. He helped you sit up and made sure you were comfortable before going to look for his blonde best friend.

"Bakugou!" Kirishima called out over the music. He approached the guy who sat in the corner of the party, a group of people Kirishima had never seen before was surrounding his friend.

He pushed through the small crowd. "I need your help."

Bakugou blinked at the lack of explanation. "With what?"

Kirishima nudged his head toward where you were sitting. Bakugou's eyes followed only to see your state. You looked sick and stiff, almost as if you were dead. He groaned, taking a swig of his beer. "Not my problem-"

"She's fucking tired! Just help me take her to my room so she can get some rest!" Kirishima's expression didn't waver as he pressed on. "I know we aren't exactly getting along right now, but I can't do this alone."

A mixture of irritation and reluctance flickered across Bakugou's face. His jaw clenched, the internal conflict was visible in his tense posture. After a brief moment, he finally relented.

"If she pukes on me, I'm killing both of you," he grumbled.

Together, Kirishima and Bakugou made their way through the crowded room. Bakugou downed the last of his drink before tossing it somewhere he couldn't see. He watched Kirishima pull you up from the couch, your tired form leaning on him for support and your eyes struggling to stay open.

Bakugou's mind wandered back to all the instances when you had made your attempts to catch his attention. He'd seen your efforts, dismissing them as frivolous and uninteresting. But up until recently, recognition stirred within him.

“F-fuck! Katsuki!”

The boy groaned in response. His thrusts didn’t let up even for a moment. He had her in doggy style, making sure to go deep inside her with his long strokes. His hands pressed down on her hips to keep her in place as her upper half wriggled around in pleasure.

Bakugou was turned off by her horrible acting. It was worse than a pornstar’s. At this rate, he knew he wouldn’t cum at all despite her already cumming for the first time.

The girl wasn’t ugly, she just wasn’t his type. Too vanilla for someone like him. He needed to rough someone up without worry. To grab someone by the neck and push their head into his pillow. To make someone take his big dick in full as they plead for mercy.

You were that someone.

He imagined pulling your hair and lifting you against him, your sweating bodies pressed against each other. How he’d throw you back down and pound into you from behind relentlessly. How you’d look back at him, unrecognizable with your makeup smudged and messed up, his hand rubbing along your back, up and down.

“Please… too big!” you’d bed.

He wanted badly to shake those thoughts away but he couldn’t. He closed his eyes to imagine more of what he’d do to you. Before he knew it, the thoughts set him off.

He pulled out of the girl and stroked a bit before cumming on her backside. She breathed in and out heavily, trying to catch her breath. She also began to touch herself so she can cum a second time

Bakugou didn’t help. He was busy thinking about you. Thinking about your lips, eyes, curves, and smell. You. You. You. He wanted you all for himself. But he knew your type; sweet on the outside, secretly hoping to be given a chance to play others to get what you wanted. He wasn’t going to play that game.

That night haunted him for weeks. When you came around, he went out of his way to avoid coming in contact with you. In his room, he would hear your voice ask: “What’s wrong with him?”

Kirishima would respond: “He’s been this like for a minute, but I’m not pushing it.”

Later that night, after you left, Kirishima knocked on Bakugou’s door. In one of his hands, he had a bowl of food that he cooked the day before.

“You’ve been in your room all day, bro! You need to help me set up!” he said.

Bakugou examined the boxing glove on his left hand. He wiggled his fingers only to realize it was way too stiff. Now he needed new gloves.

“M’ not hungry.”

Kirishima opened the door anyway and approached the boy, putting the dish on his desk. He looked at Bakugou and crossed his arms. "Something botherin' you, man?"

Bakugou huffed. Kirishima may have been a little slow, but he wasn't stupid. He could tell when his best friend is off.

Kirishima sighed. "(Y/n) and I noticed that you've been kinda distant lately. You barely come around anymore."

"Why is she always mentioned whenever we talk?"

Kirishima was taken aback. He raised an eyebrow.

Bakugou finally stood up, looking him dead in the eyes. "It's obvious you have a thing for her.

Kirishima stammered, unsure of how to respond. "I mean- I care about her as a friend, just like I do you. There's nothing more to it."

"You're always by her side, looking out for her, protecting her. Like you're fucking obsessed with her! It's pathetic!"

Kirishima shook his head in disbelief. "Just because I'm being a good friend doesn't mean I have ulterior motives. If you can't see that, then maybe you're the one with the problem here!"

Bakugou's body blazed with irritation. "You're fucking jealous that she pays more attention to me than she does to you."

Kirishima's jaw tightened. Immediately Bakugou knew he struck a nerve.

"Face it, Kirishima. She isn't interested, so back off. You're nothing compared to me."

Without another word, Kirishima turned on his heel, standing tall and steps firm as he walked away from the blonde. "Party is in three hours. Be ready."

Bakugou couldn't help but get another jab in as he listened to Kirishima mumble insults before slamming the door shut behind him.

"Stop worrying about me and start worrying about how you're gonna get your bitch off my dick!"

A wry smile formed on Bakugou’s lips as he recalled the telltale signs that hadn’t gone unnoticed before. Kirishima’s subtle glances in your direction, the way his eyes would light up whenever you entered the room, how his cheeks turned pink whenever you laughed at his jokes.

Bakugou knew his friend wouldn’t admit that he liked you, but he also knew you didn't know. You were nothing but a dumb bitch.

As they reached Kirishima's room, Bakugou held the door open, allowing Kirishima to guide you inside due to your unsteady steps. The room was untouched, bathed in a warm, inviting glow like it always had. It offered a haven of tranquility, opposite of the chaotic activities going on downstairs.

Kirishima led you to his bed, helping you settle down with gentle care. "Thanks. I'll stay with her for a bit. You can head back to the party if you want-"

He was interrupted by the sound of glass breaking. His eyes widened. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He got up and rushed out the door without an explanation, only a ‘be right back!’

Bakugou watched him go and contemplated leaving himself. Then he looked at you, your chest softly rising up and down and you breathe. He sighed and went to close the door before sitting down next to your resting body. He traced his fingertips down the side of your arm.

“You want me so bad, don't you?" he asked. But it was more of a rhetorical question.

Suddenly you nodded softly. "Y-Yeah..."

Oh, you were awake. Bakugou's eyes furrowed.

"More than anything..."

"Then prove it," he growled. "Prove to me that you're worthy of my attention."

Barely conscious, you didn't understand what he meant, but as the alcohol faded, your sense came back to you. Your willingness to do anything to win Bakugou over was back and took over your mind in an instant.

You began to unbutton your shirt, revealing your lacy bra. Bakugou watched you with a cold, calculating gaze.

"You think that's enough?" he scoffed. "You really are a dumb bitch who doesn't know anything."

Your eyes filled with tears. You'd never been spoken to like that before. Yet, something about it made you hot. His coldness and brutality made you rub your thighs together.

"Please, Bakugou," you pleaded.

Bakugou then shook his head as he began to knead your thigh. "Call me Katsuki."

You smiled. Finally, you were getting what you wanted. He saw you. He noticed you. He's into you.

"Please, Katsuki," you whispered. "Tell me what you want me to do..."

His hand kept moving all over your body. Your heart pounded in your chest, scared of what his response may be. But he never said anything, he just eyed you.

Looking you up and down, his index and ring fingers grazing over your lips. Suddenly, he popped them into your mouth. As if it was a reflex, you wrapped your lips around them, sucking on them sightly. He caught you off guard when he pressed against the bottom of your tongue, making you gag. You turned your head, hoping he'd pull away.

Bakugou chuckled. "Get up for me, baby, and strip."

He let you sit up but not before wiping your saliva off his fingers onto your cheek. You slowly stood in front of him, holding onto his shoulders for support. He leaned back, trying to get a better view of your full body.

Slowly you began to remove your clothes. You felt exposed. Way more vulnerable than you ever had before. You avoided his hungry gaze.

"You know..." he began.

You looked up at him, not stopping the motions of getting undressed.

"Kirishima likes you."

You smiled. "I like him too. He's a good friend."

Bakugou wanted to laugh in your face. Your naivety was cute. He decided to be nice and only nodded in agreement. He watched intensely as the article of clothing dropped to the floor. His eyes studied your undergarments. It was a matching set, in pink. Of course. He felt himself twitch.

He sat up and extended his arm out to your cheek, lightly caressing it. "That's not what I meant."

In a flash, he let go of your face to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling it back roughly. You whimper, your eyes shut tight. Your hands follow his actions, trying to pry him off.

"Aah! Katsuki, it hurts!" you winced in pain.

"Awe. Awe, it hurts? Yeah?" he mocked your tone before chuckling. "Can't even handle a little hair pulling."

He stood up, towering over you. He pushed you down slowly to your knees, praising you for your compliance. You shivered due to your bare body being exposed to the cold air.

With his other hand, he unbuckled his pants and unzipped himself. You listened to his pants fall and lightly bit your lip. Suddenly your face was pushed forward, being pressed into something hard.

You opened your eyes and looked up at Bakugou. You could see his rock-hard cock through his clean underwear. It curved slightly to the side and he was awfully big... and long... and thick.

You weren't a virgin but you weren't very experienced either. You'd never seen one so big before. You doubted that you were able to take that in any capacity. Not in your mouth, not in your pussy either, but you wanted so badly to impress him.

You rubbed your cheek against his dick, making him breathe out slowly. Bakugou pushed your head aside, harsher than he expected, and pulled down his underwear. He grabbed you by your cheeks and looked you in the eyes.

You were so beautiful like that. On his knees for him. Under him, below him; where you were meant to be.

Grabbing his cock, he slaps it against your face before pressing it to your lips. You open up, allowing him to smoothly slip it in.

"Ahh... shit..." he groaned as the warmth of your mouth took in his cock. You try to work your tongue around him as best as you could, his cock barely being able to fit in your mouth.

He gripped your hair in his fist as he began to move against your face, making you choke. The lipgloss you wore had been smeared, staining your mouth; your mascara ran down your cheeks as your eyes watered every time his cock slammed the back of your throat.

"Look at you. Eagerly swallowing my cock- fuck! Such a slut," he sighed.

Bakugou began to go faster, not giving you any time to take a break. You'd never been face fucked before, let alone roughly. Your gagging became more audible whenever your nose brushed against his pubes. You needed air, but he didn't give you any time to take a break.

You slapped his thigh a couple of times, trying to signal him. He understood; he just didn't care. Finally, he showed some mercy and pulled your hair back to allow you to breathe.

You gasped and cough. You let out unsteady breaths and it was hard for you to catch up to your normal pace of breathing. This didn't last very long though as Bakugou pried open your jaw, shoving his fingers in your mouth once again, this time reaching your throat. You choked again, more tears falling from your face. He kept his hand there for a few seconds, studying your pathetic attempt to please him. When you began to cough again, he pulled out.

"Impressive. Where'd you learn that?"

You felt your body growing even more tired than it was before. You opened your mouth to breathe, only for him to spit directly into it.

"Swallow."

You obeyed. His saliva slid down your throat with ease as you swallowed, and then you opened your mouth to show him. He smirked and stood up. You watched him lift you onto Kirishima's bed, positioning your head to dangle off the bed, facing the closed door.

You felt his tall, strong body leaning over yours as his mouth explored every inch of your skin. His fingers, still soaked with your saliva, slid off your panties and ran along your entrance. You were undeniably wet, and it was embarrassing. How easily you got wet. Bakugou thought it was adorable.

At first, his fingers rubbed just on top of your throbbing clit. You moan out softly, your hands moving down to his hair, playing with it a little. Your back arched at the sensation, causing him to push down your hips to keep you still.

"Look at yourself whoring out for me. You should be ashamed," he said.

He was right. You should have been ashamed. But... you weren't. You couldn't think straight, all you wanted in that moment was for him to be inside of you.

You lifted your head to watch him only for it to be put back down as his lips came up to kiss your neck. His fingers went faster, and you felt yourself squeeze around him. More moans came out of you as you concentrated.

His kisses, his fingers, his hot breath, his body.

Kisses, fingers, hot breath, body.

Kisses, fingers, breath, body.

Kisses, fingers, breath-

"M' gonna cum!" you cry out.

Bakugou faced you, his sharp canines showing as he laughed at you. You threw your head back and he lowered his face to nibble on your neck. You mumbled out incoherent words, on the verge of cumming.

A loud moan comes out of your mouth and immediately Bakugou pulls out. Your eyes widen, looking at him.

"No, no, no," you whined.

He ignored you and slapped his juices-covered hand over your face, pushing your head down yet again. It was too much for you. The pain of the bite on your neck went unnoticed when he forced his hips in between your legs, pulling you against him. He lined up his swollen cock with your cunt, slapping it a little. You moaned as he got himself wet with your juices mixed in with his precum.

He entered you without a warning and you screamed at the discomfort. You put your hands on his chest, whining. "Go slow, please!"

His gaze at you visibly softened. "You want me to be gentle, hm?"

You nodded, swallowing thickly. "Y-yeah... yeah..."

He whined just like you did. "Yeah? You want me to be soft with you? Help you adjust to my big dick?"

You repeated yourself. He smiled, carefully moving some strands of hair from your face. "You're so cute."

He slammed into you, instantly making you wail. His thrusts were slow, but hard. It hurt so bad. You whine in pain as his fingers went down to play with your clit again, laying a couple of smacks on your cunt.

Tears streamed down your face. The pain was excruciating, unlike anything you'd ever felt before. Your cunt was already sensitive, now paired with Bakugou's hand around your throat, and the pain slowly letting up, you felt so good. You were in heaven.

Bakugou's groans mixed in with your moans filled the room along with the sound of his balls slapping against you as his thrusts became even harder, you couldn't help but be loud, it wasn't like anybody could hear you. Your pussy throbbed around his cock and your back began to arch. You felt yourself coming closer and closer to your orgasm. And he noticed it.

He slowed down a bit. You were a little grateful as you were finally able to take him comfortably. But you questioned his change of pace.

"You know," he panted, "Kirishima wants us together."

You continued to moan, only murmuring over and over again how big his dick was, barely listening.

"He always talked about me and you- ugh...! Getting together..." he revealed. "Probably something he wants the most..." He lifted your head, putting his forehead to yours. "Let's do him a favor, yeah?"

The tightness on your throat grew tighter, cutting off your airflow, and his thrusts started to become harder again. Your eyes widened as your body struggled under his.

He whispered in your ear while increasing the pace of his strokes. "Be mine, baby. Cum all over my cock."

So you did. Your legs began to shake as your lungs begged for oxygen. Your orgasm was intense, your body squirming uncontrollably. He groaned as your pussy clenched around him for the last time. To be fair, he let go of your throat and your head went flying back over the edge of the bed.

You were officially head over heels for him. You would do anything to stay with him, even if it meant sacrificing your happiness and well-being. And you had a feeling he knew this.

The doorknob of the bedroom turned and the door opened. "Someone broke the damn vase with the-"

Kirishima.

He examined the scene before him, his breaths slowly becoming inaudible and his heart pounding in his chest.

Bakugou’s gaze snapped towards Kirishima, a smirk flashing across his face. "Kirishima. We didn't expect you to come in."

Kirishima ignored him, only focusing on you. His eye twitched as he took note of your cock drunk daze. You smiled innocently at him, your chest pumping up and down deeply.

"Kiri... I don't owe you one anymore."

He clutched his hands together, his knuckles turning white.

"You dumb bitch."

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