#this didn't exactly go in the direction I wanted it to

[kunareads]

if walls could talk

suguru x reader

you know better than to let suguru pull you back in, but that's never stopped you before.

masterlist

wc: 3.2k

happy belated bday to my sunshine <3

content: toxic ex-boyfriend!suguru, smut (FILTH), oral (f!receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v sex, overstimulation, suguru is generally a menace

18+ please i block children <3

you spot him first.

immediately, your stomach twists. of course he's here.

suguru geto moves through gojo's house party like he owns it, like the music hums at his frequency. he leans against the stair railing, dressed in black, sleeves pushed up like an afterthought, talking to someone without really looking at them.

his posture is too relaxed, his head tilted just slightly in your direction, mouth curved in the faintest smirk. he already caught you looking. you snap your gaze away like that might undo the weight settling in your chest.

a guy you don't know leans in too close, too eager, and says something forgettable. you should be paying attention, but your skin is already buzzing and hyperaware—and then suguru is there.

"you look bored."

his words slip smoothly into your space. his attention is locked on you, amused, like he's daring you to disagree.

the guy hesitates, looking between the two of you, unsure.

and eventually, because of course, the guy takes the hint and backs off.

suguru exhales, lazy and smug like he's enjoying something only he understands. he leans in just enough for you to feel it, his voice low and edged with amusement.

"miss me?"

your lips press together, an irritated inhale barely audible over the base pulsing through the floor.

you could walk away. you should. but you won't. instead, you tip your chin, meeting his gaze. "you want honesty, or do you want me to stroke your ego?"

it's too easy.

you should know better. you do know better. but old habits die hard, don't they?

he's watching you, waiting. seeing how long you'll entertain him. and maybe that's why you don't walk away. you hate the idea of giving him that satisfaction.

instead, you arch a brow. "still ruining my nights, i see."

suguru grins, all easy arrogance. "ruining? i just did you a favor.

"and if i didn't want it?"

he hums like he's considering it, then shrugs. "then your judgment's worse than i thought."

you open your mouth to fire back, but before you can, he swipes your drink, finishing it in one smooth motion, like it's his.

you blink. "really?"

"you weren't going to." he licks the taste from his lips, intentional, smug.

you shouldn't be amused, but you are anyway.

"you're insufferable."

his fingers skim your wrist—fleeting, a test. when you don't pull away, he takes your hand.

"come on."

"suguru—"

but he's already leading you upstairs, past the crowd, past the noise. and you let him. because you always do.

he pulls you into a room and closes the door. he leans against it, gaze intent, considering.

and then—like it's the most natural thing in the world, the next step in a conversation you've had a hundred times before—

"when's the last time someone fucked you?"

you don't answer right away. not because you don't have a response—you do. you could roll your eyes, scoff, turn this into something lighter than it is.

but that's the thing about suguru. he knows when you're acting.

you hate how good he is at waiting. how he lets silence stretch, never rushing to fill it. how his presence alone pulls the air tight between you.

you exhale, slow, measured. "shut up."

and he laughs, like that's exactly what he expected you to say.

his hands find your waist, grip loose, giving you a chance to pull away. you don't take it.

so he shifts closer, his head tilting, his voice dipping lower. not just teasing now, but something smoother, softer. familiar in a way that makes your stomach tighten.

"so you do think about me." it's a statement, not a question.

you inhale steadily, but your pulse betrays you. neither of you move. and that's the problem, isn't it?

old habits don't just die hard. they never really die at all.

"we shouldn't."

it's barely a whisper, a breath more than anything. a last-ditch effort that neither of you believe.

suguru moves in undeterred, his breath warm against your cheek, his hands sure on your waist. like the words don't matter when you're already leaning into him.

"then stop me," he murmurs, but you both know you won't.

his lips brush against your jaw, slow and deliberate, like he's giving you time to change your mind. a reminder of how easy it is for him to undo you.

and you hate it—hate how easy it is. how normal it feels. how much you want it.

"relax, angel."

the name unravels you instantly. too familiar, like slipping into something you swore you'd never touch again.

somewhere in the haze, your back meets the wall. his hands slide under your shirt, palms warm.

it's instinct, muscle memory. the way his thumb brushes against your thigh, the way his body presses into you. the way his mouth finds yours, and you open for him without thinking.

his tongue drags against yours, slow and teasing. he kisses you like a reminder, like a dare, like he's testing how long it'll take you to melt for him again.

(and you do. of course you do.)

he hums, satisfied. his hand slides higher, fingers pressing into the lace at the crease of your thigh. your teeth sink into your lip, trapping the sound before it escapes.

he chuckles knowingly, as if he's done this a hundred times before.

he barely pulls away before his hands slide down, gripping your thighs, guiding you backward onto the bed, onto your knees.

your breath hitches and his gaze never wavers. he shifts like he already knows you'll follow. settling on his back, he pulls you with him.

"come here, baby."

his grip is firm but patient, like he's waiting for you to make the decision he already knows. your stomach tightens as his hands settle on your hips, urging you higher, forward, straddling his face.

he exhales, warm against the inside of your thigh, the heat of it making you shiver.

the first stroke of his tongue is hot, slow, devastating.

a gasp tears from your lips, unbidden, your fingers gripping the headboard as he drags you against him, pinning you in place.

suguru rasps against you, the sound vibrating through your core. his grip changes, no longer guiding but keeping you there.

his tongue flicks over your clit, slow and willful, before dragging down, curling inside you.

your breath stutters, hips rolling instinctively, seeking more, chasing it, pressing into the heat of his mouth

"fuck—" he moans against you like he's the one falling apart, and you're gone.

your thighs tighten as you grind down, ruining yourself on his tongue.

suguru hums, his nails digging into your thighs. "that's it, baby."

he flattens his tongue, dragging it up slowly, sucking you into his mouth, savoring every second.

a shudder tears through you.

"suguru—fuck."

you bite your lip, swallowing the sounds, but his fingers tighten, spreading you open, his tongue flicking faster. he sucks, harsh and insistent.

the noise that rips from you is high and helpless.

he groans in approval, the vibration traveling up your spine, unraveling you.

"there we go."

his voice is smug, wrecked, and then his hands pivot—one gripping your hip, the other slipping between your legs, two fingers pressing in, curling deep.

a strangled sound escapes, your body arching as he works you open, tongue and fingers moving in tandem, determined.

"look at you," he mumbles against you, dark and teasing. "making such a mess for me, baby. c'mon, lemme see those pretty eyes."

your hips stutter, pleasure winding tight, too much, too good, too easy.

his fingers find that spot, stroking just right, his tongue working your clit in precise circles.

"suguru, i—fuck, i can't—"

"yes, you can." his voice is low, confident, coaxing you through it. "be good for me, angel."

your thighs quiver, your breath breaks in your chest, and white-hot pleasure detonates inside you, all-consuming.

you can feel him smirking against you, pleased with himself, like he knew this was coming all along.

the pleasure drowns you. your nails dig into his scalp as he moans into you, insatiable as he drags you through it until you're whimpering, twitching, overstimulated.

only then does suguru slow, pressing a lingering kiss to your clit.

you're panting, lightheaded, barely aware of his hands grabbing your hips before you're on your back.

he hovers over you now, mouth slick, gaze unreadable. "that's one."

his fingers slide down your stomach, finding your hypersensitive clit, teasing until you jolt, a whimper slipping free.

suguru grins. "think you can give me another, baby?"

and when he slides inside, stretching you open, filling you slow and deep, you realize you never stood a chance against him.

his hips grind into yours, deep and filthy, unrelenting even as your moans grow erratic, as your thighs shake, as the tension coils tight inside you.

he fucks you like he never lost you.

a whimper tears from your throat.

"what is it, baby?" he asks. "tell me what you need."

you gasp, back arching, chasing the stretch of him. "don't stop."

he groans, smiling as he leans in, grip tightening around the backs of your thighs like he's remembering the way you take him.

he hooks your legs over his shoulders, raising your hips, driving into you deeper, grinding down harder against that spot.

you sob, body tensing, and his hips never slow, even as you flush and start to break a sweat.

"god, look at you," he rasps. "fuck, i missed this. missed splitting you open like this."

"please—fuck, please—"

one hand grips the sheets, the other clinging to his arm, nails digging in.

"suguru, please—"

"is that it, baby?" he murmurs. "this what you need?"

your hips roll, trying to meet his, and then his hand slides under your back, lifting you completely off the bed, his other arm locking around your thigh.

"fuck," you whine, "please, please—"

he growls, his hips snapping into yours, fucking you in earnest, the pressure building, overwhelming, almost too much.

his hand slides between you, fingers circling your clit, and then—

"fuck—yes, yes—"

the sound that rips from your throat is strangled, broken as heat courses through you.

you writhe in his grip, but he doesn't let up, even as your vision blurs, even as your whimpers break, helpless and overwhelmed.

You're shaking and gasping, but he only drags it out.

he groans, deep and satisfied. "fuck, look at you."

he leans into you, pinning you against the headboard, grip persistent as he fucks you deeper, filling every inch of you.

he kisses you, swallowing your gasps, his tongue sweeping over yours, hot and needy.

his fingers tighten in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you gasp.

"fuck, baby, you feel so fucking good."

your hands fist in the sheets, then the headboard, then his hair, trying to hold on, trying to ground yourself.

"suguru, fuck—too much, it's too much—"

"give me another."

his voice is a low growl, rough with need, as he fucks you harder, deeper, until tears slip down your cheeks.

"can you do that? can you give me one more?"

he slams into you relentlessly, burying his face in your neck, sucking a mark into your skin.

"fuck, i know you can. come on, baby, one more."

you whimper, hips jerking, pleasure knotting too tight, too fast—

"there it is."

your body seizes, pleasure hitting so hard it's almost painful.

your body shakes, overwhelmed, the pleasure cresting, spiraling higher, higher, until you feel it snap.

it hits you all at once, a sudden, unstoppable, liquid heat soaking him, your entire body trembling with it.

"fuck, baby, look at you," suguru groans, eyes hungry as he watches you spill down your thighs and onto him.

his rhythm stutters for a second, a deep moan breaking from his lips, and then he keeps going.

his fingers press into your overstimulated clit, toying, stroking, making sure you feel every second.

"so fucking perfect for me," he grunts. "always so fucking perfect."

your body shakes, thighs tightening around his waist, fingers digging into his skin, frantic for something to hold onto.

"i—i can't, suguru—fuck, please—"

he growls, a strangled sound, and his hips stutter, and then he's cumming too, spilling deep inside you, hot and wet as his body tenses against yours.

"fuck—" his breath pauses, his body trembling.

a quiet whimper falls from him as his hips grind into yours, working himself through it, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until he's spent.

for a moment, there's nothing but heavy breathing, the scent of sweat and sex, the muffled thrum of the party still going on downstairs.

and then he shifts, lifting his head, his lips seeking yours unhurriedly.

he's still inside you, somehow still hard, still moving.

his lips brush against your jaw, heat twisting in his voice. "again," he murmurs, a plea.

your thighs twitch and his grip tightens, keeping you open as he presses deeper.

"please, angel. again."

you whimper, and he kisses you, coaxing your lips open, teasing.

"that's it, baby. one more."

he kisses you again, serious and demanding, moving his hips against you, pulling more sounds from you. your body is oversensitive, eyes still wet, every nerve strung tight.

you break away, panting, breathless, and then his mouth brushes your neck, nuzzles your jaw. you go rigid, your pulse thrumming through your ears, coming apart around him.

his smirk presses against your skin, licking his lips before his tongue sweeps over your throat, tasting the salt of your tears.

"good girl," he breathes against your temple, a kiss pressed there.

your body twitches, breath stuttering between soft, broken whimpers as you lay your head against him.

he watches you, his violet eyes heavy-lidded, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

"fuck, look at you," he breathes, voice low, like he's committing this to memory.

his hands never leave you as he lays you down, thumbs smoothing over the new marks on your thighs, tracing absent circles into your skin.

your body is still trembling, remnants of pleasure flickering beneath your skin, and he traces every shudder with his gaze, like he's mapping you in his mind again.

"so pretty like this."

his voice is low, almost lazy, but there's something else there.

something that feels like possession.

his fingers drag down, tracing the mess between your thighs, pressing in, spreading it.

you jolt, gasping, your body too sensitive.

"shh, baby," he soothes, pressing a kiss to the damp skin of your throat, "you can take it."

his fingers slide in slow, curling against that spot that steals your breath away, makes your entire body go weak.

"suguru—"

"just one more, baby" he hums, pleased.

you shake your head, a weak protest that he doesn't believe for a second.

his lips brush against your jaw, his voice warm and unshaken against your skin.

"you always say that," he reminds you, slipping another finger in, stretching you further, "and then you always give me exactly what i want."

your breath stutters, pleasure rushing back too fast, too sharp.

"there we go," he murmurs, slow and smug, savoring it.

his fingers fuck into you, deep and lazy, his thumb circling your clit slowly. your hips twitch, breath catching on a sharp gasp.

"suguru, i—i can't—"

"yes, you can, baby."

his voice is softer now, low and insistent, guiding you through it.

"one more, angel. take your time."

you clench around his fingers, body tensing, the pleasure burning too hot, but he doesn't stop.

"let go for me, baby. give it to me."

his lips ghost over yours, a breath away from a kiss, and his fingers work you at the same pace, never slowing, never picking up. the consistency pushes you past your breaking point.

your entire body tightens, then shatters.

you cum with a dragged-out moan, your orgasm caressing you slowly as your hands fist the sheets, clawing at him, holding on for dear life.

"fuck, that's it," he praises, voice thick with satisfaction, watching you fall apart for him again.

his fingers slow, easing the pressure but never leaving, letting you shudder against him, guiding you down steadily.

when you finally melt into the mattress, boneless, he slips his fingers from you, bringing them into his mouth, tasting the mess he's made of you.

his eyes hold yours the entire time. "taste just like you always did."

you don't have the energy to react, not even enough to glare at him.

his hands are gentle now, soothing, gliding over your skin, tracing the rise and fall of your breath, smoothing over every lingering tremor.

"breathe, angel" he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, voice softer now, "i got you."

you barely register it, too wrecked to process anything beyond the warmth of him, the steady weight of him, the way he takes care of you after leaving you in ruins.

his fingers smooth through your hair, slow and repetitive, like he's grounding you, or maybe himself.

you want to say something, but his fingers skim your back, and the words never come.

for now, you let him pull you in, let him tuck you against his chest, let yourself disappear into the warmth of him. just for a little while.

your body is useless. your limbs won't move, muscles heavy, your skin buzzing.

suguru feels it instantly.

"come on," he murmurs, voice softer now, smoothing a hand over your spine.

he shifts like he's about to move you, and you whimper, too tired to resist, too spent to open your eyes.

"shh, it's okay." his arms slide under you, strong and careful, and he lifts you effortlessly.

you don't fight it. can't even think about it. instinct takes over, your head falling into the crook of his neck, your arms slack over his shoulders.

"you're okay," he breathes, arms tightening. he carries you through the dim room, past the lingering heat, into the connecting bathroom.

the soft click of the bathroom light floods your senses—too bright, too much, making you whimper and turning your face into his neck.

"i know, baby," he murmurs, stepping inside, the door clicking shut behind him.

his fingers skim your thighs as he sets you down, easing you onto the closed toilet lid and steadying you.

you sway a bit and he exhales a slow chuckle, amused, but there's something delicate beneath it. his hands hold your waist, keeping you upright.

"just lean on me."

so you do.

his hands work with practiced ease, sliding between your legs and cleaning you up with slow, careful strokes.

you squirm, a jolt of overstimulation making you whimper, your body threatening to fold in on itself.

"shh, angel," he soothes, pressing a kiss to your temple. "i know. almost done."

you sigh against him, boneless, pliant, sinking into his touch.

he finishes, tosses the towel aside, then shifts, lifting you again, pulling you to your feet.

"tired?" he murmurs, smirking when your only answer is a breathy hum.

he presses a kiss to your forehead. "let's get you back to bed, angel."

you don't protest.

[yesimwriting]

I need to see some one on one bestie and Armand interactions! I bet he finds her humanity endearing even if he acts like a dick about it !! We need them bonding over art

a/n love this sm, he's so secretly invested but also so deeply unchill <3

this is the painting i reference in this fic by name, seeing it isn't necessary for you to get the fic but it's one of my favorite paintings so i thought it'd be fun to add it here :)

also i'm not saying reader has perfectly recreated a famous painting lol, it's more about the vibes/aesthetic of the painting

----

Everything passes in threes. The careful tapping of your thumb's nail against the pointer finger of your opposite hand; the way that your eyes shift between the ground, the wall, and him; even the rhythm of your heart feels like a trinity.

You're not exactly nervous, but you are tense, rigid in a way that you never are in Louis's presence.

There's something about being the source of your uneasiness, of being able to witness his presence embedding itself into your mind that's almost grounding. It's as consuming as the sense of rejection your silence is forcing onto him.

Armand shifts slightly, his hand moving away from his lap and onto the couch's cushioning. The gesture is meant to remind you of your similarities. Mortals are more eased by the small, insignificant movements than they realize. They perceive the pointless shifting of others as evidence of life, as proof of an intrinsic likeness.

The movement seems to serve its purpose, because you relax your hands, ending your three-tap pattern before allowing your arms to fall to your side. "Not being able to offer you anything to drink really has me at a loss."

The response, though cloaked in your usual humor, feels much smaller than the way you usually are. He supposes you're not the only one to blame for your uncertainty. Louis suggested that you spend an evening alone with Armand to help the two of you argue less...and apparently, Louis had warned you to be on your best behavior just as much as he had warned Armand.

Instead of pointing out the fact that you've never struggled to socialize with Louis despite being limited in the same way, he decides to reciprocate what you're giving him. "You could offer me an alternative."

Your eyebrows begin to draw together, but something about the barely there parting of your lips implies something other than surprise. If you were someone else, Armand might consider your expression a byproduct of morbid curiosity.

Your gaze flits away from him and towards the hands innocently resting on your lap. You're quick to dismiss your line of thinking, your body straightening slightly as you look at him again. "I think blood donating's more a third date kinda thing."

The framing of the sentiment, though clearly an attempt at humor, digs at him more than it should. He pushes against his instincts before responding. "Third? I didn't realize you were so easy."

You press your lips together to keep from laughing. It's an expression he's seen directed at Louis several times before. "There's a reputation." You relax slightly, your shoulders easing as you exhale. "So, what do you want to do?"

The question is a careful thing, as if you're doing all you can to make sure that what you're asking doesn't remind him of how little alone time you've spent together. He's never seen you have to think about how to connect with Louis.

When he doesn't respond, you continue, "We could go out and get some air, or we could stay here and watch something..."

You lift your hand just enough to tap your fingertips against your knee. Armand's focus moves away from you and onto the rest of your apartment. He's been here before in a variety of contexts, and he can't remember it ever seeming this organized. There are no work-in-progress pieces taking up your dining room table or paint swatches and sketches covering the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Or uh--anything you want to--"

"You've mentioned having a studio space before."

The interruption surprises you, but you're quicker to recover your expressions than you used to be. Perhaps it's the constant awareness of the fact that you're thoughts are nowhere near as private as you once believed. You nod once. "Yeah, it's the room just past the kitchen."

He turns his head enough to look at you again. "Can I see it?"

Your breathing falters, the air in your lungs stalling so briefly it would have likely gone unnoticed if Armand had been any less determined to take in your reaction. You've mentioned your studio space without being prompted before, but always with a certain level of guardedness.

"Okay," and then, as if realizing the smallness of your response, you tack on a much more definitive, "Yeah, sure."

You're quick to commit to your promise, looking away from him before moving to stand. Armand follows, making a point to remain a full pace behind you as you move through your living room and past your kitchen. You lead him down a short hallway.

You don't stall until you're in front of a door. "I uh--" Your mind is wracked with a flighty nervousness. "Just keep in mind, everything in here's a work in progress."

There's a vulnerability pressed into the syllables that's nearly enough to soften you. So often, your existence feels like a force capable of rivaling the sun. Now, though, thinking about what you've created and how he might perceive these extensions of your being, you seem...reachable. Much less like the first few rays of sunlight bleeding over the horizon at daybreak, and more like a girl of your age.

This version of you must be closer to what Louis sees when he looks at you. Perhaps the instinct that encourages his companion to keep him away from you isn't entirely wrong.

"I understand." His voice is devoid of sentimentality.

You don't seem put off by his blankness. If anything, his limited interest makes it a little easier for you to reach for the door's brass handle. You push open the door. Armand enters the space first.

The room is what's expected--a space absolutely brimming with life. A large worktable covered in sketches and small canvases takes up most of the room's center. Shelves and cabinets line the room's back wall. There are several incomplete works throughout the space, a few paintings propped up against walls and more textured pieces resting against any available flat surfaces, but none draw his focus like what's sitting on your easel.

The painting is familiar in a way that practically makes something inside of him ache.

"It's oil instead of acrylic," your explanation is careful, almost shy. "I'm trying something. The drying between layers is almost impossible, but I like the blending."

Trying something. This isn't even your perferred medium and you've stumbled onto something sharp and moving. It's still unfinished, and he can already tell that the woman you've depicted reading by candlelight is reminiscent of a time outside of your own.

"It's familiar," the reaction feels like a confession. He presses his lips together, a part of him relieved by the fact that you're a few paces behind him. "The lighting--it's similar to Georges de La Tour."

"Really?" You're more enthusiastic than you want to be. "Magdalene with Two Flames was one of my reference photos."

Of course it was. Leave it to you to be capable of accurately mimicking your influences.

You walk forward, stopping once you've reached his side. "This is the first time that someone that doesn't particularly care about my feelings is seeing it, so you can be as honest as you want."

Armand has to work at keeping his expression neutral. It's not enough to be the gifted artist that's sensitive about their work, you also have to be gratingly humble.

He keeps his gaze focused on the painting as he speaks, "You'd be more tolerable if you were less talented." Your skin flushes, blood pulling itself up your neck. "I don't mean it as a compliment."

"I know." Armand can feel how much you mean the response. "I think that's why I liked hearing it."

Something uneasy settles in his chest. You smile at him, your eyes bright and teasing like the both of you are now in on some joke together. "Searching for punishment?"

You straighten slightly, head turning away from him and towards your painting. "Searching for honesty." You're focusing on your work, on separating yourself from personal sentiment. "Though, I guess, sometimes that's the same thing."

There's nothing shocking about your prioritization of honesty. Mortals like to think that candor means something to them, that having the reality of a situation presented to them openly makes things easier. Your kind is much more protected by their obliviousness than they realize, but he's willing to humor you. "It's familiar in other ways, as well."

You're slower to understand his implication than you usually are. Armand can't quite bring himself to fault you for it. You're detached from what he and Louis are.

He turns his head slightly, allowing himself to watch you from his peripheral vision. Louis is committed to shielding you, to masking their differences from you as best as he can. You're not used to being reminded of the eternity they're meant to have.

You blink, your eyebrows briefly pinching together. "Right," this is mumbled more to yourself than to him, "...Because you would have been around when things were like this." You sit with the reminder for another moment before finally turning towards him, "Would it be really lame if I asked what it was like?"

There's a carefulness to your curiosity, a hesitation behind your interest. Your restraint is primarily rooted in how little time the two of you have spent like this, but there's something else behind your uncertainty. Louis loves you the way one loves a childhood blanket that's at risk of becoming threadbare. He doesn't want to lose you to his nature, so he does what he can to pretend it doesn't exist. But you're nowhere near as uninterested in vampirism as Louis would like you to be.

Perhaps this is the only thing that Louis isn't willing to give you himself. "Not really lame." The corner of your mouth tugs itself upwards at the opening. "As I'm sure you know, it was a time of great, artistic flourishing..."

He stops, his mind latching onto aspects of his reminiscence with a vengeful sharpness. A gifted young artist desired by vampires for their beauty and talent.

His unexpected silence forces your thoughts away from curiosity and towards something much more akin to worry. "It was also a time of great brutality."

You're quiet for a stretch of time that feels much more significant than it is. "I'm sorry."

He isn't sure if the apology is an attempt at expressing generalized sympathy or if you're feeling guilty for asking the question in the first place, and he can't bring himself to examine your thoughts for clarity. It should bother him either way. Your presence is enough to agitate the part of himself still susceptible to this kind of vulnerability, he doesn't need to add to that--not so openly, not with you right next to him.

Your proximity is a source of discomfort that's much easier to focus on. You are, by far, the gentlest of his afflictions. For once, he permits himself to lean into the warmth of this uneasiness, his hand extending towards you. He keeps his attention focused on the painting as he takes your hand.

Your shock is enough to briefly amplify your thoughts as an anxious warmth begins to crawl up your neck. The initial surprise quickly fades into a dismissible mental static, leaving a marginal concern in its wake. He presses into your thoughts. You're slightly worried over his shift in demeanor, and you feel a little out of your element, but you're not uncomfortable.

When no other sudden movements pass, you drag your thumb along his knuckles. The heat of your skin amplifies the gesture's soothingness.

He allows the silence to linger for another minute before breaking it, "What are you going to do with the painting once it's finished?"

The question seems to throw you more than the position that you're in. "I don't know, it doesn't really fit into the collection I'm working on." You pause, thinking through your answer. "Maybe I'll hold onto it...or send it to my mom. It seems like something she'd like."

Armand nods once. "Would you consider selling it to me?"

Your nervous warmth returns, blood shifting beneath your skin. "If you want it, you can just have it."

This is an argument that he knows you're familiar with. You're always resisting Louis's attempts at offering you anything you deem expensive, even if it's a payment for something you've made.

"You're an artist," he begins slowly, "You should be paid for your work."

You're not impressed by his logic. "Yeah, but we're friends."

"Are we?"

You weren't expecting an argument. "I think so."

There's a genuineness to your response that's almost hard to bare. Perhaps the financial argument could be reserved for another time, or maybe it'd be easier to gift you something instead. It's a strategy that Louis's used before. "Do you want to watch one of those shows you and Louis are always talking about?"

The question makes you grin. "Yeah." You turn away from the painting without letting go of his hand, pulling him towards the door. "I'm ruling out reality TV, because I don't want to lower your opinion on humanity any further."

"How kind."

You look back at him, smiling, "I'm very altruistic."

----

The television provides a comfortable background, the TV show you put on serving as both a source of sound and light. It also helps that this is a method of bonding you're familiar with.

As far as artistic merit, the show you were so excited to show him isn't exactly life changing, but he's experienced worse evenings than this one.

One of the main characters on the screen accidentally comes across an incriminating note that the audience learned about in the first episode. It's an incredibly predictable twist, but you're studying his reaction like there's something life changing about this revelation.

"This isn't realistic."

The comment makes you sigh. "It's not meant to be realistic, it's meant to be entertaining."

Armand instinctually turns his head towards you. The passive aggressive response he was ready to offer you feels a lot less significant now. You're close, closer than he's used to you being. Maybe there is something entertaining about this.

"It's inconceivable for this many things to be happening on the same street." The words leave him much slower than he meant for them to.

You don't notice his lap, your gaze briefly shifting away from him and onto the screen. "I'm sorry, supernatural being, are the events taking place on Wisteria Lane inconceivable to you?"

It's a relatively fair point, but he has no interest in letting you know that. "But it's not about the supernatural, it's about reality."

His phrasing seems to stand out to you. Instead of attempting to counter his response, you tilt your head slightly before relaxing against the couch's cushioning.

"I don't know," you whisper, the words soft in their distance. You ease further, your head shifting towards him until your temple is resting against his shoulder. The warmth of your skin burns through the thin layer of fabric dividing the two of you. He cannot bring himself to move. "You seem real to me."

He wouldn't put it past you to be able to speak him into existence. Armand turns his hand over carefully, his fingers intertwining themselves with yours.

----

chat does hand holding warrant a content warning

[cweeming]

⠀⠀⠀ ࣪⠀⠀𓏵⠀⠀ ׅ　 7592 (𝑗𝑢𝑚𝑝𝑠𝑡𝑦𝑙𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡). ⠀⠀ྀི

⠀⠀⠀⠀♰⠀ 𓈒 ⠀𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑐 (🇧🇦/𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑘 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡).⠀ ﾉ⠀𝑡𝑥𝑡 (🇯🇵 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡). ✙

it were the afternoon, you and Logan hanging out. he had a mission to look out for, while you were kicking back and relaxing.

you sat on the couch, phone in hand. there wear earphones in your ears, and the music were turned up so you couldn't hear anything. Logan stood infront of the mirror on the wall a few feet away, back turned to you. he were grooming himself, making sure his kitty ears were in tact. he couldn't help but slow down when he began to hear the music coming from your phone. this again. his eyes narrowed, as he caught a glimpse of your sitting form in the mirror. he's told you countless times not to turn up the volume too loud, how you'd go deaf. but, you never learned.

"that oughta give you a headache." he called out, continuing to groom himself. fully expecting a response, not knowing you couldn't hear him. after none came, he stopped and called out to you again. maybe you were ignoring him, not wanting to listen to 'ole Logan and his old wives tales. "I ain't saying you can't do what you're doing, but I also ain't denying there'll be consequences in store for you." again, no response. he turned around in your direction to look at you, seeing you on your phone. what could possibly be preventing you from answering him?

you'd have the scare of your life when Logan suddenly towered over you. "Logan!" you nearly shrieked, throwing your phone and hitting him square in the face. "you- you're going to give me a damn heart attack." he chuckled, you pulling your earphones out of your ears and tossing them aside. "well, princess. being distracted doesn't exactly help prevent that from happening."

he stood up and grabbed your phone that landed beside you on the couch. "called out to you twice, and you ain't responded once. there ain't nothin' important on this phone to prevent you from talking." then, he smirked. "I don't suppose, you're crushing on the latest celebrity?"

you didn't exactly calm down, a small blush appearing on your cheeks while you shook lightly. "I'm just teasin'," he'd speak before you had the chance to answer, reaching out and ruffling your hair.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

a few minutes go by. Logan's sitting next to you, scrolling thru your phone. "so... I noticed you had your earphones on you." he glanced at you sideways. "mind telling me what's going on there?"

you shifted uncomfortably. you didn't like being confronted, especially when it came to your secret interests. "uh... nothing." you shifted a bit to the side, turning away from him. "it's nothing."

it seemed as though you were preparing to leave. so, he grabbed ahold of you.

"nothin' ain't cuttin' it, princess." he sneered, the smugness present in his tone. ugh. it were hard putting up with him sometimes. you released a sigh, plopping back onto the couch like jello.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀...

as he continued to browse thru your phone, he managed to come across a music app. you waited patiently to have your phone returned, arms crossed over your chest.

"chizutorimack?.." he had a good look at the name, as well as the icon itself. you thought nothing of it, paying him no attention.

until you heard the app open, a soft chime coming to life. your eyes widened, head slowly turning in his direction. you knew right then and there, you couldn't let this man proceed.

"give me back my phone!" with a now demanding tone, you attempted to wrestle the phone out of his hands, failing miserably as he managed to block your small form. you sat back, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared at him like a hawk.

"easy now, princess." his eyes remained glued to your phone screen, beginning to read off what he saw in the app. "7592, music, txt... heh. well, I never took my princess for a music enthusiast." he looked over at you, a small smile playing on his lips. you released an annoyed breath, hair getting into your eyes. atleast you could lie more thoroughly with an attitude.

"firstly," you began, tucking the hair behind your ear. "you really need to keep your claws off what's not yours." you swatted at your phone to get it back, but he simply smiled, raising his arm higher into the air. how he loved to tease you. "and second, it's not a music app. I. . . that's just where I get my inspiration from. for every day life."

he saw right thru your bullshit. "I think I could take you up on that offer, princess." he reached over for the earphones that were still plugged into the phone. "you let old Logan here get a taste of what the common folk listen to, and I'll return your phone. how does that sound?"

terrible. your heart began to pick up. the judgement is going to be absolutely unreal. "u-uhm, actually... there's swearing. and themes of sex and violence."

he simply fanned his hand at you. he's well over 200 years old, and has definitely seen a lot worse. "y' know, I do need to brush up on my own collection. after all, a mutant needs to keep himself busy when he's not always around the house." he put in one earpod, before doing the same with the other. "go on, princess. what album do you recommend I listen to, first?"

you hesitated. usually, you'd keep these things to yourself, locked away from the world. but, with Logan... there were never a day where he seemed uncurious. so, you chose your favorite playlist that you created, albeit in a very shy manner.

"u-um... try the 7592 playlist."

in the end, he loved it. the other 2 playlists, including. so much so, he constantly kept your phone on him days at a time so he could keep himself in the mood. maybe it's time to put a passcode on the lockscreen?

[sysig]

Coding woes (Patreon)

[earl-grey-crow]

.

[mstrchu]

can someone else please please look at this set of images before i go insane

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[supercantaloupe]

truly detest how pcos tags/forums/etc are absolutely crawling with terfs

[fideidefenswhore]

'AB should have stayed on cromwell's good side and supported his policy, which she believed unduly favoured those of the realm who were already wealthy and would disadvantage the poor'...........you are not serious people.

[thebeautifulfantastic]

<3

[tovaicas]

the main thing that’s striking me rn abt shb in the writing is eulmore. It’s not necessarily a bad plot element, but it is a little strange bc the eulmoran army’s purpose is essentially just a motivator for the wol to kill lightwardens faster. Which is like fine, but killing the lightwardens was already a task that the wol was gonna do anyway bc plot.

they spend a lot of time setting up eulmore as this expac’s main evil faction right at the start so they can later throw them at you, and it is interesting how they interpret the sin eaters, but like…I’m not sure if killing the lightwardens was a tasking that needed another motivator behind it to get the player/wol moving? Like all the scions are already dedicated to this, and even if they weren’t the exarch won’t let you or your friends leave until you do as he asks anyway, and he specifically waits to tell you what your task entails until after you've already unwittingly started it, all while refusing to inform you abt any potential ramifications of it. like all the motivators are there already, and imo they're far more interesting than eulmoran army ever is

[chase-prairie]

So you found a dead body in the woods

The worst thing you've worried about, going on hikes, happens. This happens often, in the grand scheme of things. It's always joggers and dogwalkers and hikers. My unlucky day came on October 24, 2022.

So what do you do when you find a dead body?

Look in the other direction and take a breath. Panic wont help you or them.

If you are comfortable, approach them and try to help. If not, it's okay. I was unwilling to approach (they looked real dead) and my 911 operator was 100% totally supportive and okay with that.

Walk a little ways away. There is no reason why you need to keep staring at them. It's okay. Seeing a dead person is really wack!

When you've caught your breath, call 911. My first thought was "Oh god, I don't want to talk to cops." and, good news, it's not cops! 911 responders are different people. They are trained to talk to you, to reassure you, and to help you. They are there for you. They understand you are freaking out. They are kind and patient.

Your new buddy, the 911 person, will help you figure out where you are, exactly. They have access to your location via cell-tower and GPS, but if, like me, you were off-trail (oops), they might need your help navigating to you. I offered to also send a photo, and he provided an email, which he received immediately. I deleted the photo I took right away.

Hang out on the phone with your dispatch friend. They're going to want to keep in touch with you as the paramedics approach. Are you freaking out by chattering too much? Are you freaking out by being dead silent? Both are okay! Apparently, my panic response is to become Super Midwestern Chatty. I was able to make him laugh, which I count as a win.

Holler to the paramedics. My paramedics came deep into the ravine-filled woods, about six men, steering a rolling bed thing. We shouted at each other until they made it to the body. It would have been funny, watching them fumble along, if it wasn't so serious.

Get out of there! The paramedics don't need anything from you. They're busy doing their job. They shooed me back to the trail and to the parking lot. I didn't have to go anywhere near the body.

Meet cops in the parking lot. In my situation, the cops didn't want anything from me. They were just picking their noses in the parking lot while the paramedics did the real work. The cops said thanks for helping, while covering their bodycams, because they're pigs.

Go eat donuts. Christ, that was a lot. Let yourself comedown and get some sugar to kickstart your system.

Feel good that you gave a family closure. Yeah, that sucked. Yeah, your therapist is going to hear about this. Yeah, next time you come to this location, you're going to need a friend with you. But you did the right thing. You'll never know their family, but know that you gave them closure.

[sysig]

I decided to give a go to @niennanir’s lovely print-your-own-fic recipe on my Inside and Out as a test run and I’m quite pleased with the results as a first pass :D

I wish I’d taken a few more process pictures but there was a slight lull as I had to go shopping for 12x12 cardstock lol, but! I do have a couple closeups/extras that I added for funsies :D

I went with freehanding the title and I think in the future I would opt to not do that lol, at least not without a printed template. That said, both LibreOffice and SAI refuse to recognize my SCII fonts >:0 If you notice on the first page, I used the Ace Attorney font in italic haha, it’s an okay alternative even if it’s not what I actually want |0 I am happy with the gold detailing tho :3c

I did have an unconscionable amount of fun freehanding the ship caption tho ahh <3 <3 Immediate happy stims upon completion, their names together look so pretty ♥ Credit to Zarla’s original minicomic on that one :3

I also managed to get the last sentence of the fic isolated on the last page thanks to the formatting haha ♪

I was also able to add a bookmark! Ma happened to have a couple very thin ribbons to choose from and red ended up complementing the green very prettily!

It reminds me of VUX tongues hehehehe ❤️💕💖💞

[kashverse]

gojo calls you every name but your actual name—sweetheart, baby, pookie bear, sometimes even "oi, babe"—but never your actual name. so when he finally did, when he looked at you dead in the eyes and said it, your whole body stiffened. "are you okay?" you asked immediately, squinting at him like he was on his deathbed. "blink twice if you need help." you even reached out to check his forehead for a fever, because surely, this was a medical emergency. gojo just blinked at you, utterly confused, before doubling over in laughter. "you seriously think i'm unwell just 'cause i said your name? that's so messed up—i love it."

nanami calls you every name but your actual name—dear, love, sometimes just a heavy sigh paired with a side glance. so when he actually did, when his voice dropped and he spoke your name with the weight of a thousand bricks, you felt your stomach sink. "is this a breakup?" you blurted out before he could even continue. nanami blinked at you, his brow twitching. "what?" you crossed your arms. "you're using my actual name," you pointed out. "is this a professional resignation from this relationship?" nanami exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "no. i was just asking if you wanted coffee." but the damage was done. you spent the rest of the day side-eyeing him, just in case.

geto calls you every name but your actual name—angel, sunshine, princess, even "chipmunk" when you get on his nerves. so when he finally did, when he said your name with a certain weight, you panicked. "oh my god," you gasped. "you found out, didn't you?"

"found out what?" his eyes narrowed. "the shampoo," you admitted, guilt weighing heavy on your conscience. "i've been using your fancy shampoo. that’s why you keep running out so fast." geto just stared at you, eyes unreadable. then, very slowly, he leaned back, crossed his arms, and nodded. "that explains a lot."

"are you mad?"

"no. just disappointed." ouch.

toji calls you every name but your actual name—doll, sweetheart, brat, depending on his mood. so when he actually did, when he gritted out your name over the phone in the middle of the night, your stomach dropped. "oh my god," you whispered. "are you dying?"

"what?"

"you're out on a job, aren't you? is this a last words kind of call? should i be preparing for the worst?" toji groaned, the sound of gunfire faint in the background. "jesus. i just needed you to grab my extra ammo from the closet."

"oh."

"...but now that you mention it, maybe bring a first aid kit too."

choso calls you every name but your actual name—babe, honey, sometimes just a hum of acknowledgment. so when he actually did, when he uttered your name so carefully, you felt your chest tighten. "you're friendzoning me," you whispered, horror-stricken. "this is the end." choso blinked, his face scrunching up in genuine confusion. "what? no. i was just—"

"it's okay," you sniffed. "you wanted to let me down easy, huh? didn't want to go for the direct breakup."

"babe, i was literally just asking if you wanted extra sauce on your food." but it was too late. you had already started mourning your relationship.

sukuna calls you every name but your actual name—dove, brat, little one, sometimes even "human" when he's particularly irritated. so when he finally did, when his voice wrapped around your name with sharp precision, your survival instincts kicked in immediately. "listen, listen, i didn't do anything," you pleaded, hands raised. "whatever it is, it wasn't me. i swear. please don't kill me." sukuna just stared at you, unimpressed. "i was literally just calling you."

"yeah, exactly," you said, eyes darting for possible escape routes. "why would you use my actual name unless i'm in serious danger? is this a death sentence? am i about to be vaporized?" sukuna rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. "you're so dramatic."

"says the one who tears people apart for fun!"

[missdynamighttt]

watching porn with bf! katsuki bakugo will somehow turn into a bet to see who will give in first.

when you ask him if you could watch porn together, how could he say no to you, his girl? more so when you basically riled him up to convince him.

"bub, can we watch porn together?" you look at him, your legs resting in his lap as the both of you lounged on the couch.

katsuki's eyes widen at your directness, his jaw slightly dropping at your question. he scoffs out of disbelief, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

"you're real damn blunt, pervert," he grins at your pout, stroking your thighs with firm, gentle squeezes.

"i'm not doing it for weird reasons! just.." you shrugged. "curious to see what happens, i guess? i dunno how to explain.."

he sighs, shaking his head. his hand reaches out to ruffle your hair with a grin. "you're lucky you're adorable. fuck it, why not?"

you grin, leaning closer to him, giving his cheek a kiss. "knew you'd come around. come to think of it, i bet you will jerk off to it first."

his eyes narrow at you and he scoffs. "that confident, huh?"

"with how hot you think i am and all? totally."

"like you don't think i'm hot too. wanna bet, sweets?"

"definitely. ground rules: don't touch yourself. and no touching each other. and i mean holding hands, hugs, and kisses. not just feeling each other up."

"tch, fine," katsuki scoffs. "no looking away to calm down. only when we talk. winner gets braggin' rights and loser lives with the eternal knowledge that the winner is better."

"fine," you scoff back. "you're gonna give in first, 'nyway. since you can’t go a single morning without pulling me into bed again."

katsuki's eyes narrow at you again, this time pouting at you with his cheeks flushed. "says the brat clingier than a damn koala after sex."

"oh, you're so on."

but little did you know, this would be harder than you thought.

you've set up your laptop on the coffee table across the couch, scrolling through the mediocre home page porn in incognito as you sit next to your boyfriend.

you were almost reluctant to continue but knowing him, he would definitely egg you on about being a coward. because one thing about your boyfriend, katsuki, was that he really wanted to win at everything.

"wanna watch?" you look at katsuki with a grin, the video on display captioned: "I hope the NEIGHBOURS were pleased with WHAT THEY SAW!", the preview of the video showing a couple standing by the window, fucking. it wasn't really your thing but you wanted to see how he'd react.

katsuki glances at the laptop before giving you a skeptical look, his tone firm. "fuck no."

"why not? whats wrong with it?"

"just.. no," he shakes his head, a sly grin slowly creeping onto his face as he looks at you. "one second. technically haven't started yet, yeah?"

he leans in, his lips meeting your cheek in a soft, quick kiss before pulling back. his fingers linger, stroking your cheek in a gentle, affectionate gesture. "just pick somethin' else, sweets."

you roll your eyes while wearing a fond grin. you're almost tempted to call him out on how affectionate he was but you didn't want him to stop. you couldn't help but find it endearing and cute.

but after awhile, you and katsuki realize pornhub's terrible acting and weird angles wasn't really working.

"no, too weird. it looks awkward. and fake."

"no, the guy is givin' me the ick. looks homeless."

"no, it looks.. painful. why is it so stretched?"

"no. wait, you're into that? i'm not opposed to it, i just think it looks weird when they do it. just sayin', if you wanna try it.."

so, you go on twitter, looking for porn accounts and already finding better alternatives.

finally, your eyes settle on a compilation of video captioned: "breeding selection 🖤" , the previews of the videos showing various faceless girls getting fucked sloppily and creampied by their partner.

this was it. it wasn't exactly your best plan but you were depedent on him getting turned on by the video and your mere presence to win the bet. and if anything turned him on, it would be the thought of breeding his pretty little girlfriend.

you glance at him from the side, taking in his relaxed demeanor as he leans back with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the laptop as if there wasn't porn on the screen.

"this good with you, boyfie?"

he looks at you and fuck, you can practically feel the heat radiating from his gaze. his eyes rake over you, taking in every curve and contour of your body with a hungry look, like he's undressing you with his eyes, imagining what he'd do to you.

"mhm, 'ts fine."

you nod, going back to the laptop to play the video, stupidly thinking: there was no way he'd be able to play dirty, especially when he can't touch you. but no.

the video plays, only a few seconds showing the girl's rear. the guy squeezes her ass, the cum dripping out of her pussy and in between her swollen folds, down to her thighs as he plays with her ass.

and you know what katsuki does? this man talks you through it, saying the most filthy, lewd shit with a cheeky grin. this man plays dirty by talking dirty.

"goddamn. see the cum, just drippin' out of her? bet you want me fill you up real bad now, don't you? wanna recreate that with me, sweets?"

your thighs clench involuntarily, your body betraying your inner desire. you stare back at him with a glare, feeling a familiar ache settle between your legs. "we do that on a daily basis, katsuki."

"'m just sayin'," katsuki grins, thinking: perfect. you're getting horny. "the idea of pumpin' you full, watchin' my cum drip out of you.."

he was just so desperate to see you rub your clit silly so that he can do it too without admitting defeat. his dick was huge but his pride could compete.

you clear your throat, glaring at his cheeky grin before quickly playing the next video. it's longer, around 8 minutes. it has a better angle, showing the guy's dick disappearing in and out of the girl's pussy, her doughy ass hitting his abdomen. he slams into her as she moans softly around his cock, sticky from their shared slick.

you feel hot and tight in your own skin, your throat going dry. you felt your sore nipples harden as you painfully clench down on nothing, tempted to just subtly grind against the couch for a second. fuck. it hasn't even been 5 minutes yet you were so, so wet.

your boyfriend noticed. and he certainly wasn't of any help.

"shit," katsuki leans down close enough to whisper in your ear, his breath hitting your skin, but far away enough so that he wasn't touching you. "you wet already, sweets?"

"i'm not. shut up and watch the damn porn."

"aww, don't be like that. look at my pants, baby, c'mon."

you bite your bottom lip before your eyes reluctantly dart down to his pants. fuck. his boner was so fucking obvious, it didn't help that he was wearing grey sweats. you were already picturing him naked, imagining how your cunny would look like taking in his dick.

"see? i'm so fuckin' hard for you, baby, it hurts," he sighs, looking at the tent in his pants before whispering in your ear. "don't you wanna take care of me, hm?"

a small sigh escapes your lips as you try to steady your breathing, your eyes darting everywhere but at katsuki. your thoughts consumed by the sight of him, despite your attempts to remain composed.

"you're mean," you huff.

"baby, c'mon. i'll take real good care of you, i promise," he grins at you. "just gotta touch me, yeah?"

you pout again before your eyes return to the screen, thinking your only solution was to ignore him.

although, it wasn't any help as you watched the cum drip out of the girl's pussy before he fucks it back into her, when you wanted nothing more than for him to do the same to you.

he put some distance, and you thought: okay. some time to calm yourself down. but just when you thought katsuki couldn't outdo himself, you hear the ruffling of pants, looking down to see him stripping himself of his clothes.

you look up at him as you feel your face get hot from embarrassment. "hey, what are yo-"

"hm?" he looks back at you, blinking innocently. he throws his clothes unceremoniously somewhere, leaving him in only his boxers as he holds his hands up in surrender. "what? it's hot, sweets. this doesn't count 'nyway, right? besides, 'm not touchin' anythin'."

you huff, pouting at him with a glare, trying not to admire his muscles. that's the game he wanted to play? you glanced down again, a clear fucking mistake. you almost felt drool down your chin as you admired his body, tempted to take his boxers off and just go wild—

you swallowed, looking back up at him. you get an idea. if you can't beat them, then... "you wanna play that game? fine."

you reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric over your head, revealing your bare skin to his eyes. tossing the shirt aside, you slowly tug down on your shorts, sliding them down your legs until you're left standing in just your bra and panties.

katsuki's jaw tightens and his muscles tense the moment you started undressing. he clenched his fists, the effort it takes him not to pounce on you was almost physically painful. he takes in the sight of your nearly naked body, his mouth going dry at the sight of you in your bra and panties.

the porn playing on the laptop is long forgotten as he stares at you. because fuck porn when he has such a gorgeous girl right in front of him. his girl.

"the hell are you doin'?" his voice is strained, getting the courage to look away with flushed cheeks. his eyes dart back to the screen, focusing with his arms crossed.

"hm?" you look up at him, blinking innocently like he did. you put your clothes away somewhere and held your hands up in surrender, like he did. "relax. its hot for me too. besides, doesn't count, right?"

"damn it. doesn't count but it's damn well torture."

"what's stopping you from fucking me, hm?"

"you know damn well whats stoppin' me. quit testin' me or i swear to god, i'm gonna fuck you so hard after this."

you laugh, trying to ignore the ache in between your legs as a cheeky smile plays on your lips. "'m just saying. i bet it'd feel really good, y'know. having you inside of me..."

his teeth clench at your words, his hands clenching into fists to keep himself in check. "goddamn it. baby, you're killin' me here."

"bub... all you gotta do is touch me and i can make the pain go away."

"sweets... why are you torturing me?" he groans, his hands clenching onto the couch as he glares at you.

"i want you. fuck, i need you. damn it, you've seen how fuckin' hard i am. so why are you makin' me wait, hm?" his voice is low, almost whining about how much he craves you. how needy he is to be inside you.

"i wanna win too," you bite your bottom lip, almost tempted to fold.

"fuck," he grits out, his eyes closing briefly as he runs his hand through his hair. he looks at you again, his gaze filled with frustration and need. "sweetheart.. you're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

a sly smile spreads across your lips as you lean in closer to him, just close enough that your breath tickles his skin, but not touching him. you were getting there. on top of him not making eye contact, you could've sworn his boner twitched.

"i know. but... please take care of me, katsuki," you whispered, hearing his breath hitch as yours fans across his skin. "i know you wanna."

his eyes darken as he looks down at you, his resolve almost wavering. "oh, i do. i really do, sweets."

that's the last thing you hear before katsuki is finally on you, his movements quick and urgent as he slams his lips onto yours. he kisses you like he's starving, his lips hot and angry against yours, desperate to have his fill of you but take out his frustration on you too.

katsuki pulls away, glaring at you before helping you out of your soaked panties as you help him out of his boxers, his hard cock springing out and stood at his abdomen.

"wanna take care of me that badly, huh?" you grin, reaching for his cock, stroking it up as you thumb his throbbing tip leaking with pre.

his breath hitches, hissing before he reaches down your folds and rubs your swollen clit, your soft moans echoing in his ears. "shut the fuck up. you won't even be able to think, after i'm done with you."

katsuki grunts, aligning himself inside of you, gasping at the softness of your wet, velvet walls. and as he thrusts his cock into your dumb little cunny, he recreates exactly what happened in those videos.

"whats the matter?" he taunts in your ear as he folds your legs near your shoulders, fucking you into mating press. his body covers yours completely, you can feel his weight pressing down on you. "you fuckin' wanted this, right?"

"a-ah, i do..." you gasped, sore nipples feeling the skin of his pecs. "you're just.. mad i won.."

"hah? you callin' me a sore loser?"

"if— oh... if the condom... fits."

suddenly, you squealed from the sudden thrust, whimpering as he slams his cock deeper inside of you, almost kissing your cervix as you feel his balls slapping against your folds.

"won't fuckin' fit 'nyway cause i'm fuckin' you raw— shit," he gasps, desperately rutting himself into you, chasing your release and his. "feels so fuckin' tight, sweets, holy shit..."

"katsukiii," you moaned his name, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as he fucks you dumb. "i-i can't, anymore, please—"

"shhh, you can take it," he huffs before leaning down to give you an affectionate, reassuring kiss. his lips soft and gentle against yours as you wrap your arms around his neck.

he draws back from the kiss, his lips leaving yours with a soft, wet pop. "you can take it, can't you, baby?"

you whine and squirm against him, a desperate, needy sound leaving your lips. you nod, the words failing you in that moment, silently begging him to keep going, to give you more of the pleasure that you need. he smiles at you, leaning down quickly to give your cheek a kiss.

"atta girl," he murmured with pride, kissing down your jawline. his mouth is hot against your skin as he peppers your collar bones and chest with open-mouthed kisses. "that's my girl."

"k-katsuki," you pant, your hips rolling against his as your body begs for the sweet, sweet release that only he can give you. "m-m' gonna.. c-cum.."

"yeah? you gonna cum for me?" he groaned. he wants to see you lose yourself in pleasure. he craves to be the one to bring you to your high. "you wanna cum for me, pretty girl?"

"please," you whimper, your voice shaky and needy as your eyes meet his pleadingly. "please, yeah, m' gonna cum for you, please just—"

your words cut off as you let out a soft cry, your head tilting back further into the couch as your body trembles with the need to let go, to give in to the pleasure that's threatening to overwhelm you.

"cum for me, sweets," he grunts, his hips rocking against yours. "show me how much you like it when i fuck you like this, c'mon."

and that's all it takes— clenching down on him and burying himself inside of you—and you're both gone.

your body tenses, a gasp of pleasure escaping your lips as you feel him cum inside of you, bodies shaking with the force of your release and his. your hips press against his as he relaxes into you, your nails digging onto his (glorious) back.

katsuki pants, taking a moment to admire you. the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, teetering on the edge from your high as you cling to him. like a koala.

"you did so good, sweets," katsuki murmured. he steadies himself beneath you and pulls his cock out, pressing the tip against your folds, waiting for the moment of his dreams. he almost has hearts in his eyes when he watches the cum drip out of you, going down his tip as he pushes it inside you again. "so damn good."

"i asked if you wanted to recreate those videos," he grins when he hears you gasp, feeling the tip of his cock rub your folds, squirming against him as you bit your lip. "i'll make sure i get all the details right by breeding the shit out of you."

and as the night wares on, you both collapse onto the couch, panting and exhausted, a tangle of limbs wrapped around each other, cuddled up close after having the most mind-numbing sex.

"so.." you look up at him with a lazy smile, laying your head on his chest. "loser lives with the eternal knowledge the winner is better, huh?"

he groaned, closing his eyes for a minute before staring at you as he runs his fingers through your hair. "sweets... you're real fuckin' lucky i love you. otherwise, i really would've went above and beyond and made sure i knocked you up."

"i wouldn't be opposed to that."

katsuki narrows his eyes at you, his fingers flicking your forehead. "don't tempt me, brat."

you rub your forehead with a pout, sticking your tongue out at him. "so mean."

he scoffs, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, gently but firmly pulling your hand away, hovering his lips to where he flicked earlier to give your forehead a soft kiss. "get some sleep, sweetheart."

"fine. i love you too, bub. goodnight."

"tch. love you more, dummy."

and honestly? katsuki doesn't need porn to get his dick hard. not when he has you. his personal porn star, his gorgeous girlfriend, and of course— his favorite person.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ inspired by my ex 🧍🏻‍♀️ hope this was to your liking and i hope you enjoyed, i apologize if it seems too.. lewd? nyways, i'll start working on these requests and the older brother's best friend/ best friend's older brother trope with katsuki (i cannot choose), comment if you wanna be tagged 💜💜