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ice-echo26 · 14 days ago

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Just a Friendly Drink with Friends (Pro!BakuTodoDeku x F!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Shoto Todoroki x Izuku "Deku" Midoriya x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: When your work buddies and the hottest couple at your hero agency (and secret crushes) invite you out for a friendly drink to celebrate your birthday, you're more than happy to oblige...until the drinks start flowing, the convos get heated, and these three sexy pros reveal their ulterior motive for inviting you out with them.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS DNI); Poly!Pro!TodoBakuDeku (Early 20s-Early 30s); Work Crush; Coworkers/Friends to Lovers; Alcohol Consumption; Drunk Sex; Guy on Guy; Foursome; Dom!TodoBakuDeku x sub!Reader; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Triple Blowjob; Doggystyle & Missionary; Spanking; Anal Play/Analingus; Dual Cunnilingus; Titty Play; Squirting; Listener Cums 4x; Creampies; Cum on Tits

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Came up with this idea after seeing this fan art by GSony24 about this fine ass trio. Follow them on Twitter HERE and IG HERE!

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Another birthday. Another year on Earth being a single girl. 'What a happy fucking birthday,' you solemnly think.

This is just how you wanted to spend it: sitting alone in your office past your usual clock-out time with your third iced coffee of the day. You're pretty sure that this isn't healthy, but the rich taste of coffee and your favorite cinnamon bun creamer on your tongue is too good to resist.

You sigh, staring blankly at the computer screen in front of you. It is already 6PM and everyone has long since left, except for the security guards and janitors. You have a choice to shut down your work laptop, pack your shit, and take your ass home for the night.

But you chose to be cooped up in your little office sipping your iced coffee to avoid being at home alone.

Truth be told, you were dreading your birthday coming. It seems that every time this day comes around, you become less excited about it. Probably because you're still single.

You see so many girls on TikTok and Twitter celebrating with their partners, getting taken out to clubs and expensive dinners to celebrate their numbered trip around the sun. But not you. You always seem to celebrate at home with your wine, your streaming services, and your dog.

You initially had plans with a friend for dinner, but she caught a cold. She called you earlier snotting and sneezing over the phone, apologizing profusely for cancelling.

Tonight, you don't want another night at home. You don't want to wallow in your own self pity or loneliness. So you distract yourself with work, hoping that this day will go by quicker.

But fate has other plans for you. While you check your schedule for next week, you hear the door to the agency unlock. Probably just a sanitation worker cleaning up for the night. But when you hear the familiar voices of your office crushes, your hands freeze on your keyboard and your heartbeat accelerates.

"I think they're in here!" Deku's sweet voice drifts to your ears, signaling his appearance. You hear his footsteps getting closer to your office which overlooks the interns' cubicles situated in the middle of the room and other heroes' offices across the way.

The agency you work at is primarily owned by All Might and is co-owned by his mentees Izuku "Deku" Midoriya, Katsuki "Dynamight" Bakugou, and Shoto Todoroki. All top ranking heroes. All irresistibly sexy.

And all dating since their high school days at UA High. All three of them work at the agency alongside you, monitoring the city, patrolling, and taking on dangerous missions. You have only done some patrols and interacted with them at work, but it was enough for you to develop a very strong crush on the loving couple.

You couldn't help but fall for Deku's sweet energy, Bakugou's hot-headedness, and Shoto's blunt yet refreshing personality. You have often pictured yourself being a fourth piece to their poly puzzle, lpossibly on your knees and being filled with...

You shake your head, pushing the thoughts aside. You could never go any further than fantasies. The last thing you want is to ruin your work relationship with them and make things awkward. So you keep your feelings quiet and just stay as friendly as you possibly can.

"You think they're in there?" Bakugou parrots, huffing impatiently. "Fuckin' nerd. C'mon, stop fuckin' around and find 'em! We were supposed to be at the bar 20 minutes ago!"

"Well, we did make reservations," Todoroki protests. "I'm sure they will hold our spot since they know who we are and- Oh, hi, Y/N."

The three pros stop in the doorway to your office dressed in casual clothes. You feel your tongue grow heavy at the sight of them: tall, buff, and mouth-watering.

"Y/N, hey!" Deku chirps, waving one of his scarred hands at you. He sheepishly rubs the back of his head, ruffling his tufts of green hair. He wears a white tee and jeans that stretch across his toned body. "U-Uh, sorry to intrude. I'm just looking for my sneakers."

"His dumbass lost 'em," Bakugou grumbles, bumping his shorter boyfriend's hip. He has an undercut for his platinum blonde hair and tattoos that ink his toned arms. Like Deku, his black V-neck and jeans fill him up perfectly.

He gives you a hot glare that is intensified by his vermillion eyes and does nothing but make you feel quite bothered in your work dress. "Da hell are you still doin' here, extra? Don't you usually leave at 3?" Deku and Todoroki curiously stare at you, just as confused.

Your brain desperately tries to play catch-up in fear of you looking like an idiot. "U-Uh, hey!" you stammer, plastering on a smile. "Yeah, but I'm just here getting some work done. I was thinking of doing some patrols too."

"On a Friday night?" Todoroki asks, furrowing his brows at you. His red and white locks of hair compliment the differing colors of his eyes: turquoise and chestnut brown. Those eyes that have filled your dreams many times before. He wears a blue polo shirt with some jeans and Vans which goes well with his laid-back personality.

He then snaps one of his calloused fingers, a smile stretching across his handsome face. "Wait, isn't it your birthday today?" he questions. "I saw it on the work calendar."

Deku and Bakugou stare at you, waiting for you to confirm. You are shocked that Todoroki even noticed considering his busy schedule. "Uh, yeah," you sigh. "Yes, it is."

Deku is practically horrified. "Seriously?! Oh, no, I completely forgot! I would've given you something if I had remembered!"

But you shake your head, giggling awkwardly. "No, no, you're fine! That isn't necessary. I mean, it's just another day, right?"

"Just another day?" Todoroki questions, sounding perturbed by your statement. "Do you mean you don't celebrate your birthdays?"

You guess the joke didn't help at all. "W-Well, what I mean is birthdays don't exactly mean much anymore as you get older, so that's why I'm passing the time with work."

The three pros give each other an unreadable look. You flush in your dress that hugs possessively at your body, feeling exposed. They must think you're such a loser. "Do you not have anyone to share it with?" Todoroki asks.

Deku pulls a nervous smile, tugging at his taller boyfriend's sleeve. "Uh, Todoroki, that's a little personal," he whispers.

But Bakugou is just as bad at reading the room as Todoroki is. "Nah, I wanna know too. That look ya got on your face means there's somethin' up with you." He leans against the doorway, still giving you that mean look. "What, your boyfriend dump you or somethin'?"

Deku glares at him, momentarily looking like he wants to wring some necks. You know Bakugou means no harm in asking, but you still straighten your neck and make your tone very firm. You know how to handle the hot-headed pro.

"Well, since you wanna know, I had plans to go for dinner with my friend, but she caught a cold and cancelled...so now, it's just gonna be me and my dog." You wince at how pathetic you sound and opt to look at your pretty, pink nails instead of the pros. You don't want to see their looks of pity.

"Well, why don't you just come and get some drinks with us then?" Todoroki asks.

"Huh?!" both you, Deku, and Bakugou exclaim in unison.

Todoroki looks completely oblivious to it. "Well, it is your birthday, isn't it? Since your friend can't make it tonight, you can just come hang out with us." His smile is friendly and warm. "Your other friends."

Friends. He thinks you're friends. 'Well, aren't you?' you think to yourself. "Oh, thank you, but I couldn't!" you squeak. "You guys already made your plans and I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Stop all that polite shit," Bakugou growls, rolling his blood-red eyes at you. "It's gonna make ya feel worse if you're here by yourself or at home bein' all depressed." He crosses his arms over his beefy chest and dog tags, the corner of his pierced lip curling into a smirk. "Unless ya think you can't hang. I know my way around a bottle."

“Wasn’t there that one time you threw up after a beer?” Todoroki snickers.

“Fuck you!” Baku growls. “I had a cold that time!”

As the two begin to bicker amongst each other, Deku takes the reins. "You should come with, Y/N," he happily says. "We don't mind the company if it's you. No one should celebrate their birthday alone."

Maybe it's the sweetness in his tone. Maybe it's the generosity in their eyes, even Bakugou's despite his permanent glare. Or maybe it's just the idea of spending your night with your crushes, even if for an hour at a bar.

You sigh, tossing up the white flag for defeat. "Alright," you give in. "But one drink. I don't need to be stumbling home or throwing up in my toilet."

Deku claps once in celebration, grinning joyfully. "Awesome! Let me just find my sneakers and we can head out."

He quickly jogs to the locker room in the back of the office to look while Bakugou dramatically rolls his eyes. "We're gonna be here for a while," he sighs. "Hey, nerd, wait up! You're gonna get lost in there like last time!"

That leaves you with Todoroki. He lingers in the doorway to your office as if it is his, not coming in but still being an intense presence. "Thanks for the invite, Shoto. I really appreciate it."

The red and white-haired pro shakes his head at you. "Don't mention it," he says in that husky, smooth-like-butter voice. "You can thank us by having some real fun with us tonight."

Maybe it's your imagination, but you think you see him wink before he walks off to join his boyfriends in the locker room. You are left there feeling hot and bothered, wondering what in the hell you just got yourself into.

****SCENE CUT [AT THE BAR]****

The bar the trio chose for tonight's festivities is in full swing when you arrive.

It isn't a luxurious, upscale bar that you thought the pros would be visiting. Instead, there is a live band playing, hardwood floors, pool tables, and many young people looking for photos with their favorite superhero trio.

After calming a gaggle of college girls who excitedly ask for photos and autographs, the trio finally take a seat in the polished wooden bench under the soft glow of a lampshade hanging above you. Bakugou and Todoroki sit across from you while Deku, who orders the drinks at the bar, slips into the bench with you.

"Alright, a round for my favorite heroes!" your waiter chirps, coming back over with a tray of tequila shots. He lowers it in the middle of the table before turning to you. He is a lanky young man with long, black hair and his cheeks flushed red. "And uh...H/N, could you sign my napkin, please? For my kid."

He gives you a sheepish grin as he holds a napkin and a pen to his chest. Bakugou snorts while Deku shoots him a glare. "Oh, sure thing!" you giggle. "Anything for the kiddies!" You take the napkin and pen no problem. "Who am I making this out too?"

The waiter awkwardly fiddles with a curl behind his ear. "Uh...for Dave...a-and could you say that you love having him as your biggest fan please?"

You can hear Bakugou snickering as you scribble down the message and your signature before passing it back to Dave The Waiter. "Here ya go," you say, keeping a smile on your face. "Thanks for the drinks."

Dave excitedly thanks you before floating off on Cloud 9, leaving you to your...dates? Can you count these three as dates when you're just friends?

Bakugou shoots you a knowing smirk, his crimson eyes filled with laughter. "That sorry sucker is gonna jack off to that later," he snickers. You roll your eyes at him. "Come on," you groan. "That's normal for a pro."

"We have our own stories of creepy fans," Todoroki chuckles, taking a shot from the tray but not downing it yet. "Like that one time we were in London and a girl climbed through our hotel from the balcony."

"What?!" you gasp. The white and red-haired pro nods, his eyes filled with mirth. "Bakugou caught her and woke the whole building up," he chuckles. "Poor girl was traumatized, but was determined to sleep in bed with us." You shiver at the thought, thanking the Lord that your stories aren't that weird.

Deku does a little giggle that makes your stomach twirl as he tosses one of his scarred, toned arms over the bench behind your head. You suddenly feel hot in your dress as if the bar's temperature just rose. "You'd be surprised how many people love the idea that we're all a thing and have been shipping us for a long time."

"Or shipping themselves with us," Bakugou scoffs. "Fuckin' weirdos." You keep your lip buttoned at that one. You don't need them to know that you're one of those "weirdos".

"Hey, wait a minute!" Deku exclaims, making you jump. "We need a birthday toast, don't we? Something to bring in a new age for you!" His green eyes sparkle with joy and excitement...the same you should have for your special day.

His words and genuine tone make your face grow hot with a bashful blush, especially when he raises a shot glass in your honor. "To a wonderful birthday and being one year older," he says. Todoroki follows suit and, begrudgingly, Bakugou does the same, trying to hide his smile.

You giggle, raising a shot too. "And none the wiser," you add. "Cheers!" You clink your shots and down them at the same time, causing your throat to burn and eyes to sting.

While you hurry to suck on another lime, Todoroki's eyes grow wide while Deku's face flushes red. "Oh, damn," he whistles. "Now that's tequila."

Bakugou cackles at his boyfriend's reaction, cool as a cucumber with his liquor. "Just don't go overboard like ya did last time, nerd. We had to drag you outta here."

"Hey!" Deku whines. "Don't embarrass me, Kaachan! We have a guest." He nods at you, still blushing bright red. It's adorable. "Deku, I don't care," you giggle. "And I'm really not a guest. If anything, I should be embarrassed for intruding on-"

"Would you stop with that?" Bakugou gruffly asks, scowling at you. "You're not intruding or botherin' us, so cut that nice BS and just take another shot." Despite his gruff n’ rough deliverance, you can't help but feel freed from your shyness and shame at his surprisingly kind words.

Todoroki doubles on it, shooting you a sweet-hearted smile. "Seriously, Y/N, we're glad you're here. We've always appreciated your friendship."

Friendship. Right. Nothing more, nothing less. You push that blooming disappointment aside by indulging in more shots with the crew, going to a third. The tequila begins to take effect, making your entire being feel flushed and hot...or maybe that's just the presence of the trio working on you.

That hot, bothersome feeling continues to grow as you suck on a lime slice and suddenly feel eyes on you...red-hot eyes attached to the brooding blonde sitting across from you. "What?" you ask. He smirks, picking up his fourth shot of the night. "Suckin' on limes is a rookie move," he chuckles. "Guess you don't got the tolerance for it."

The booze must be working its magic because you suddenly feel reckless. Confident. "On an empty stomach, no," you admit, "but I ate before this, so I can drink you under the table."

Bakugou notices the challenge in your tone and quirks his pierced brow at you. "Oh?" he asks. "Is that a challenge, little hero?" You try not to let the nickname affect you so deeply, even as Deku and Todoroki watch the showdown with interest.

"Maybe," you purr. You curl your fist underneath your chin, regarding Bakugou through your lashes. "What do I get as my reward if I win?"

If your deliverance is as seductive as you think, the blonde acts like he doesn't notice. Instead, he picks up a shot and passes it to you, smirking. "Guess you'd have to drink to find out."

And so you do, the lime not included. After some time, you start to feel the effects of the tequila engulf you. After having six shots and an order of wings that Todoroki graciously brings the table, you are good and drunk.

The edges of your vision are slightly fuzzy and the music playing has you moving your shoulders in addition to your dress slipping down your chest just a little too far without your knowledge, exposing more of your breasts that you'd like. Everything feels good. Everything feels easy.

And everything is arousing. Bakugou's teasing smirks every time you share a shot are like aphrodisiacs to you. Todoroki's soft voice and placating words seduce you. Deku's drunken laughter and "in your face" attitude makes you want to jump his bones right here in front of everyone.

"Heeeey, Y/N, when did you get here?" the green-haired pro slurs, turning to face you. He is practically falling out of his clothes and his cheeks are permanently red. "Wow, that pink is so pretty!"

His hazy, green eyes trail over your pink work dress tight on your body. "I've been here this whole time, Izuku," you giggle, reaching out to fix his collar. "And thanks." You would think the pro has never seen a girl smile at him or touch him before with the way he hides his face in his arms.

"Jesus, ya nerd, look at you," Bakugou sighs though his own cheeks are flushed pink. "What am I gonna do with you?" He reaches across the table to ruffle Deku's head. "Sorry, Kaachan," Deku giggles, picking his head up. "I-I think I had too much."

He stares almost dolefully at his boyfriend while the corners of Bakugou's lips curl into an adoring, crooked smile. "Oh, we know," he huffs. Todoroki laughs, pushing a cold glass of water towards Deku and coaxing him to sip.

You watch on in envy of their relationship and of the fact that you aren't in it. How you so long for romantic, caring partners like that. "You guys are so cute," you blurt. The trio blankly stares at you and you quickly try to rebuff. "I-I mean your relationship is cute. You guys are cute together....I think I had too much too."

You place a hand on your temple that has begun to pound from the energy it took to save yourself from embarrassment. "S'cool," Todoroki chuckles. "You wouldn't be the first to say that." He takes a sip of the ginger beer he ordered, being the only one to not look plastered.

"You guys have been together since high school, right?" you curiously ask. "How'd you make that work?" Bakugou and Todoroki share a look while Deku is busy trying to sneakily drag Bakugou's Sake over to him.

"I guess we all just fit with each other," Todoroki replies. "We were friends for so long until gradually, we all fell for each other. We all leaned on one another on hard times." He pauses, searching for more words. "Everybody needs somebody," he says before sipping his beer.

Those words stick with you like gum on a shoe, molding itself to your brain. "And we need you too, Y/N!" Deku exclaims, his green eyes sparkling at you. "You're such an amazing hero and we love havin' you here with us!" He pauses, clapping a hand over his mouth. "Oops...did I say something stupid?"

God, he's so fucking cute! What you wouldn't give for him and his boyfriends to be yours! "Thank you, Izuku," you laugh. "I love being here with you guys too. You guys make me feel so...so..." Safe? Loved?

"So what?" Todorki encourages when you pause. You flush shyly, your eyes staring at your manicured nails instead of his monochrome eyes. "Just appreciated, I guess. It means a lot that you invited me here on my birthday just to make me feel better. You're very considerate and sweet."

You gnaw at your bottom lip, still refusing to look any of them in the eye. "I'd be lucky to have boyfriends like you three," you softly say, and the entire vibe in the room shifts as soon as the words are out, suspended in the air like rings of smoke.

Before anyone can even breathe, you hear the familiar beginning chords of a Beyoncè' song playing from the live band on stage. Bakugou and Todoroki notice the sparkle of joy in your eyes at the sound of your favorite song. "This your song?" Bakugou snorts.

"Hey, me too!" Deku exclaims, grinning at you. You stand, wanting the chance to move your body. "We should all go dance then! C'mon, I can't be the only one on the floor!" You place your hands on your hips, staring the pros down, pulling a glare that you hope is menacing enough. "And I'm the birthday girl, so what I say goes."

Bakugou takes another sip of his beer and stands up, causing your stomach to flip from the sheer height of him compared to you. He looms over you, staring you down with that Bakugou-esqe scowl. "Says who?" he demands.

You stare back, the booze and your hip-hugging dress giving you the reckless confidence to go toe to toe with him. "Says me." And with another shot of tequila that you snatch off the table and toss back, you twirl on your heel and head to the dance floor.

As you walk away, you hear Todoroki softly laugh. "You always liked 'em bold, Katsuki," you hear him chuckle. "She's got you blushing like a-"

You don't hear the rest as the sound of the instruments and the drunk dancers surrounding you. Deku is suddenly right beside you, a smile on his face as he watches you move to the upbeat pop song, moving your hips. "Dance with me, Izu!" you shout, taking his hand in yours.

You and the green-haired pro begin to move with one another, him twirling you around and around as you giddily laugh, becoming dizzy from spinning. When you stop, all you see is Deku's pretty, flushed face and eyes like lush forests. "You can really move, Y/N!" he shouts over the music. "You're really good at this!"

Bakugou tsks, suddenly spewing behind you, snatches you away from the green-haired pro. "Such a simp," he cackles. "Besides, ya can't keep up with this one." You gasp as you feel his hand in yours tugging you to his body. He turns you to face him, all of his handsomeness suddenly within eye view.

Your confidence suddenly wains, the false pump from the booze leaving you. You feel a hand at the small of your back, secure yet possessive, his fingertips slightly chill. "But I can," Todoroki challenges, smirking over your shoulder at Bakugou. "I've been told I know how to move my hips."

From behind him, Deku presses into his boyfriend's back, his hips moving with Todoroki's. You have no choice but to do along with it, pressed between Todoroki and Bakugou's big, hard bodies like two steel walls.

Surprisingly, Bakugou looks worried, a crease forming between his brows. "This okay with you?" he gruffly whispers. Wordlessly, you nod, unable to speak. Your body feels stiff and robotic, each movement clunky, especially when Bakugou's hands slide down to your hips, his thick fingers pressing into the thin fabric of your dress.

You find yourself pressing your hands against his broad chest while Todoroki sways with you, your head lulling back against his shoulder. His cologne mingles with the scent of cigarettes in the air, making you dizzy. It feels as if you are in some kind of intoxicating dream. You feel drunk in a way the tequila could never do to you.

Suddenly, you feel the tickle of his stubble against your cheek and the soft hum he makes sends shivers all over you. "You smell really good," he murmurs. "Like flowers."

You swallow the lump in your throat, turning slightly to look at him. "T-Thank you," you stammer. "It's my favorite." His eyes become softer. More intense. They swallow you whole. "It's becoming mine too," he whispers.

The air shifts the way it did at the table, becoming tense with a sexual energy that is too bothersome to ignore. It's strange; one minute, Todoroki's hand is cupping your cheek and then the next, his lips are on yours, soft and careful yet attentive. He kisses just as you thought he would.

When he pulls away, you are dazed, confused, and floating. "No fair," Bakugou growls. "You did that before I could, but I can do it better." He turns your face to meet his and then his lips are on yours too. His kiss is rougher and more intense but it is still slow, the cool metal of his lip ring pressing into your plump bottom lip.

The world vanishes and all that is left is you. Him. Them. Nothing else matters. When he pulls away, you are craving more. "How was that?" he whispers, his eyes hooded. You say nothing, unable to. He chuckles softly at your wordless response to his kiss. "Poor thing can't even speak."

Deku appears beside Todoroki, taking your hand in his. His eyes are soft and glassy. "I-I wanna kiss you too, Y/N," he murmurs. "I always have. C-Can I..."

He is leaning in before you can reply and his soft lips are against yours too. He is gentler and takes his time, but still lets you know of his want for you by placing a hand on your cheek, cupping your chin so he can turn your face to mold with his mouth.

You can't believe this is happening. You have to be dreaming. Your body feels like it's about to give out from all of this stimulation...and it does. Your weak knees buckle before you can help yourself and you nearly trip into Deku. "Whoa, careful!" he shouts, gripping you to him. "You alright?"

Embarrassingly, you look up at the alarmed pro. "Yeah," you giggle. "Just weak in the knees." Deku's green eyes tick to Todoroki and then to Bakugou, each of them telepathically speaking to one another. The song then ends and the audience claps, cheering.

Your heart stutters and your gut clenches. This means the moment is over. The night is over. "We should get outta here," Bakugou says, looking towards the exit. It is over. You wither, feeling cold all over. How could you think this could go anywhere outside of the bar?

But Bakugou pulls you out of your sulking, literally pulling you towards the exit with him and his boyfriends. "You comin' with us, birthday girl?" he huskily asks. You blink at him, gobsmacked. If he would've asked you to come to the moon with them, you would've said yes.

"Yeah, we can go back and talk more," Todoroki offers, placing a hand on the small of your back. "You'll need the rest." If this truly is a dream then let you stay asleep! You would give up reality for some time alone with these three studs any day.

So you nod and you are suddenly swept up out of the bar with the pros where an Uber is already waiting for you. Todoroki sits in the passenger seat while Deku and Bakugou sit in the backseat with you. You think you imagine it, but you're sure that Bakugou tugs at your dress when you crawl into the car, your ass bent over for his viewing pleasure.

The drive home is silent yet tense. It swims in the backseat with you and your two crushes, your body sandwiched between them. You do your best to keep calm, keeping your thighs clamped shut despite Bakugou's hand gripping your thigh and Deku's fingers toying with your fingers.

By the time you get to their shared condo, you feel like you're about to explode. Though the interior of their place is beautiful, you are in no mood for a tour when you walk through the door with the trio in tow. Bakugou is the last one in and shuts the door behind him with a satisfying thud. "Well, this is us," Deku announces.

You are now cornered by the three pros like a little bunny being surrounded by starved wolves. Despite this gnawing thought, you nod in acknowledgement at Deku's words, pretending to admire the hardwood floorboards and hanging art.

The sexual tension lingers, thick enough to be cut with a chainsaw. No one speaks. No one makes the first move. The trio stare you down as you stand by the couch, your work tote still in your hand. "So...you still wanna talk?" Todoroki carefully asks.

Talking isn't even on the table for what you're thinking about. So you lower your bag on the couch and kick off your heels, staring dead at the trio as you do. Then you give them a resounding "no" that answers all of their unasked questions.

Immediately, Katsuki closes the gap between you in two strides and sweeps you off of your feet...literally. You squeak, wrapping your arms around his neck as he holds you bridal style. "W-Wait, Katsuki," you protest. "You don't have to-"

"Shut up," he demands though not maliciously. "You're already stumblin' around. I don't need you crashin' into some furniture." He ventures up the steps with his boyfriends, letting you indulge in his muscles and how strong he is carrying you so effortlessly.

When he gets to the bedroom, you notice how large the bed is in addition to the rumbled silk sheets. "A-Ah, I'm so sorry!" Deku embarrassingly exclaims. "We didn't have time to clean today, s-so-"

"She don't give a fuck about that," Bakugou snaps. "Let's just get her on the bed before I bust out of these fuckin' pants."

He lowers you down on the edge of the bed while he, Todoroki, and Deku climb up after shedding their shoes, sitting in the middle. They wait for you, lustful eyes trained only on you.

Finally, you feel like a piece of the puzzle. Todoroki reaches for you, gently pulling you close to him. "Let me help you," he purrs into your ear and moves your hair to expose the zipper to your dress. Zzzzzip. He slowly drags it down, revealing the hooks and straps to your lace bra.

"This still what you want?" he murmurs in your ear. "You can say no at any time, okay?" He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, making you shiver. You have never been more sure of anything in your life. "Yes," you exhale. "I want this."

The rest of the zipper goes down and you shrug your dress off, letting it slip down your legs to your painted toes. You are then left in only your bra and lace panties. Helping Todoroki, you unhook the bra from the back yourself and let the cups fall, revealing your hanging fruit to them.

"Oh, fuck," Deku groans while Bakugou hisses out "Shit!" at the sight of your body. Todoroki is dumbfounded, his eyes grazing over your juicy tits and the way your thighs curve up to meet your ass in your panties. "Oh, baby," he groans, moving towards you. "You're absolutely perfect."

He coaxes you to lay down on your back, the silk sheets cool against your skin. He hovers over you and latches his lips around one of your hard nipples to your right breast, sucking on the peak. "Oh," you sigh, running your hands through his soft hair. "Shit, Shoto."

Bakugou appears next to his boyfriend, bending down to stimulate your left breast with his hand. You moan at the contact, pleasurable tingles shooting throughout your body. "Stop hoggin'," he growls. "I'm still here too, Icy-Hot." Todoroki barely spares him a glance, too busy swirling his fat tongue around your left nipple.

The blonde smirks down at you, gently tweaking your other nipple. "You got a thing for piercings, baby girl?" he raspily asks. He sticks his tongue out, giving you a peek of the silver ball pierced in the muscle. You nod, unable to speak. "Good, 'cause I've got a thing for these pretty things here."

Soon, both pros are sucking and playing with your sensitive nipples with their long, fat tongues, their fingers stroking down your sides and pausing to fondle your breasts, wantonly moaning as they do. You lay there, mouth agape and eyes squeezed tight from the stimulation, your brain swimming. "Oh, fuck!" you longingly moan. "God, yes!"

You grip Bakugou and Todoroki's hair, pushing them farther into your chest. Each stroke of their wet tongues and soft lips send you on a trip. Deku watches from his spot on the bed, a tent growing in his pants. "You sound so good, babe," he softly groans. "I wanna hear more."

He slinks to the edge of the bed where your feet hang and gently bends your knees, sliding between them. "Can I eat you out please?" he asks. "I can tell you're wet. I can see it." His forest-green eyes are lust blown as they stare at your panties, noticing the wet spot forming in them.

You wordlessly nod, allowing him to peel your panties off of your ankles...but not before taking a sniff of them. You see his cock throb in his pants, excited by your sent. He pries your thighs open a bit more and exposes your sobbing, wet, soft little pussy to himself and his boyfriends.

Todoroki moans at the sight of you. Bakugou gazes at your pussy, biting his lip in anticipation at your glistening slit. “Mmm, damn, birthday girl,” he hums. “All this for me?”

“For us, Kaachan,” Deku corrects him, glaring up at him. “But right now, it’s for me. You deal with her up there while I take care of her down here.” The blonde cocks his head at his boyfriend's bite. “Oh, so you got mouth, huh? Remember that later, nerd.”

“Are you two gonna bicker or help me take care of this cutie here?" Todoroki asks, still molding your breast in his hand. "If not, I’ll be happy to take the job.” His lips stretch into a teasing smile at the prospect of having you all to himself.

Moments later, Todoroki and Bakugou are still teasing your nipples while Deku is in between your thighs going absolutely crazy. He is just as good at eating pussy as he is fighting villains, his calloused hands gripping underneath your ass as his tongue laps at your juices.

He is extremely vocal too, moaning against your clit the more he drinks and slurps you up, causing lewd, sloshing sounds of his wet tongue caressing your folds to float through the air. “Oh, fuck!” you gasp. “Shit, Deku, yes!”

Your body writhes on the bed, your pussy growing wetter the more the pros stimulate your erogenous zones, causing you to gush and cream onto Deku's waiting tongue. “Doll,” he drunkenly moans. “You taste so fucking good…you’re gushing for me!” He pulls his face up from your thighs, his eyes lust drunk and intense. “Give your hero more," he pants.

He goes back to making out with your cunt while your nipples are tweaked, sucked, and bitten...a little too hard for your liking. “Ah!” you gasp. “N-Not so rough, Katsuki.” The blonde gives you an apologetic kiss on the side of your kitty. “Aww, sorry, baby. Guess I just got a little jealous.”

His red eyes cut down to his boyfriend messily and sloppily eating you out like it's his damn job. “Mmm, I think I want a taste too,” Todoroki sighs, pulling away from your chest to take a seat beside his boyfriend. “Scoot over, Midoriya.”

Despite his irritation, Deku grumbles and moves aside, allowing Todoroki to eat your pussy now. He is just as much of an eater as his boyfriend is! His fat tongue swirls around your clit before dipping between your folds to caress your slit. “Oh, my God!” you shout, gripping the sheets for dear life.

Bakugou's face appears in your line of vision, hovering over you with a smirk on his lips. “Ya keep yellin’ like that and we’ll have trouble, baby. Someone’s gonna have to quiet you down.” His bulge is dangerously close to your lips; you can practically taste it.

He notices your staring eyes and smirks, toying with the zipper of his fly. “Ya want it, birthday girl?” he asks. You nod, whimpering in pleasure as Todoroki and Deku's tongues caress your clit.

Zzzzzip. Bakugou's fly comes down and he reaches into his pants to take out his cock. His beautiful, throbbing, tanned, veiny cock. “Then open your mouth.” You do so, your pussy throbbing as his bulbous, pink tip slides into your mouth.

Bakugou moans as your hot, wet tongue and soft lips wrap around him, encasing him in heat. "Good girl," he groans. "Fuck...such a good girl fa' me." He gazes down at you as his cock slides in and out of your mouth, your plush, glossy lips stretching around him.

"That's so fucking hot!" Deku moans into your pussy. He and Todoroki continue to share your pussy, but their eyes are focused on you sucking dick. "Hey!" Bakugou barks. "Focus on that fuckin' pussy and less on me...unless one of you two wanna help her out."

Todoroki smirks at him, giving him a flirty wink. “Don't tempt us with a good time~"

Your pussy jumps at the thought of seeing that for yourself, but that image evaporates when you feel Todoroki's breath tickle your ass. "You're so cute down here too, lovely. You wouldn't mind if I...?"

His tongue slides between your asscheeks and he gently begins suckling at your asshole while Deku laps at your cunt. Your toes curl from the stimulation, your moans loud and slutty around Bakugou's cock. "He's good with his tongue, ain't he?" he chuckles, gently petting your hair. "You ain't seen nothin' yet once I get to that pussy."

You can just imagine Bakugou's tongue piercing tickling your hot clit as he laps at your pussy too. Three fat tongues bathing your gushing pussy. You feel that familiar tug in your core and begin to moan louder, your lashes fluttering from the immense sparks of pleasure you're feeling.

"Your legs are shaking, lovely," Todoroki coos from your asshole. "Are you gonna cum for us?" You wordlessly nod, drool sliding from your bottom lip down Bakugou's balls. "Do it, doll," Deku begs. "Fucking cum for us. I want it all over my face!"

Your pussy throbs hearing the kind-hearted, sweet hero cuss, the urge to cum rising. "Do it," Bakugou demands, still slowly fucking your mouth. "Cum for us with my dick in your mouth, mama. Give it to us."

You have no choice but to do so. At the tongue lashing you're getting in both holes, you release into Deku's mouth with a loud, muffled moan and a series of whimpers while Todoroki sucks on your throbbing little asshole. Your orgasm is intense, making you see stars and your back arch off of the bed.

Todoroki lewdly moans as he pulls away from your asshole, greedily watching Deku slurp up all of your cum. "C'mere, little Deku," he coos. The two begin to sloppily kiss, sharing your taste and your cum on their lips and tongue. You watch it all from between the V of your thighs, stimulated by the sight.

"Shit, that's hot!" Bakugou growls. "How are you this fuckin' hot, huh?" But his eyes are watching you, his cock pulsing from the sight of your naked body writhing in pleasure for you.

“Oh, I thought you meant us," Todoroki chuckles as he pulls away from a dazed and lustful Deku. "But agreed. You've gotten me so hard for you, baby." He moans as Deku rubs him through his pants, his palm caressing his bulge.

"Me too," Deku groans, referring to the tent you can see in his pants too. "Wouldn't be right to leave us out of this, would it?" He gives you a look that is dark, wicked, and lustful; gone is the sweet, shy Deku you have known for so long.

He and Todoroki climb onto the bed with Bakugou who begrudgingly pulls his cock out of your wet, drooling mouth. "Just don't hog her," he grumbles. "I was here first, so don't go fuckin' her throat for too long."

He hooks a finger under your chin, lifting it to meet his gaze and the eyes of his boyfriends. "Think you can take three big cocks now, babe?" he hums.

Something takes over you: something slutty and reckless. A slut slips into your skin, ready to be fucked and used all night. "Y-Yeah," you softly giggle. "I want you all...naked." The pros softly laugh at your request, already reaching for their shirts. "That can be arranged, little baby," Bakugou replies.

You sit up on your elbows and watch in excitement as the three strip for you. Shirts come off. Pants are tossed aside. Boxers are discarded. That leaves them naked for you, muscles exposed and each cock hard, big, and throbbing. "See somethin' ya like, babes?" Bakugou asks, smirking at your lustful expression.

"Don't be so shy now. You weren't while you were rubbin' that ass on my dick at the bar." Were you really? You can't remember. The tequila and lust have stolen your memory.

Deku sits on his knees for you, taking your hand and pressing it against his toned stomach. "Go ahead, doll: touch us. Run those pretty hands all over us just like that."

You don't need any further encouragement. You begin to indulge in the pros' bodies, silently objectifying them as your hands work over their arms. Their abs. Their broad chests. Their firm asses. Your hands then fall to their cocks, alternating between each one, stroking up and down.

"Fuck," Bakugou groans, biting his lip at the sight of your pretty, soft hand wrapped around his dick. "You got a way with your hands, baby." You sluttily giggle, your manicured nails moving lower to fondle his balls. "I can show you more," you purr.

"Mind showin' us too, lovely?" Todoroki huskily asks. "You wouldn't wanna leave us out, would you?" He taps his cock against your lips which you pry open, offering your tongue to him for his tip to slap against.

The three pros pounce on you like hungered dogs, scrambling at the chance to fuck your mouth. It takes a minute to get used to; having three big dicks in your mouth back to back isn't for the faint of heart. But when it becomes easier to handle, you become freer. Sluttier.

Your hands become slick with pre-cum and drool slides from your mouth down your chin as you suck and suck and suck the pros' cocks, alternating between taking each one in your mouth while you stroke the other two.

The luscious moans coming from your crushes' mouths encourage and arouse you all the more. While all of them are vocal, which you highly appreciate as you work your jaw like there's no tomorrow, they all are different with the way they react to your dick-sucking abilities.

Bakugou is a damn menace. He grips your hair to pull you onto his cock, drawing his hips forward to fuck your face and destroy your makeup. “Yeah? You like it?” he teasingly asks. You wordlessly nod, your reply muffled by his dick.

With a groan, he slides out of your mouth, causing you to gasp in air and spit to stretch from your mouth to his balls. “Open up for me.” You pry open your mouth for him, saying "Aaaah" as you do.

Spit!

Bakugou leans down to spit his own saliva into your mouth, waving his cock around for you. “Put it back on my cock,” he demands. You do as told, leaning down to spit his saliva onto his dick before you taking it back in your throat. “Little slut lettin’ me spit in your mouth. Bet you wanted this for a while.”

You can't even express to him how much. However, you attempt to do so by sucking him dry, hollowing your cheeks and making his toes curl.

Deku is LOUD. Louder than Bakugou if you can believe it. He holds your head between his hands as he rigorously and eagerly fucks your throat, plunging himself deeper and deeper between the velvety, soaked walls of your throat. "Ha, ha, fuck, doll!" he whines. "That feels so good! Your mouth is fucking...oh, fuck!"

"Damn, nerd, chill out," Bakugou chuckles, watching his boyfriend fuck your mouth dumb. "You'll fuck her mouth off the hinges." Deku's face is flushed red, his muscles bulging and clenching from the immense pleasure. "C-C-Can't help it!" he groans. "It's too...Shoto, don't!"

Todoroki chuckles, his fingers toying with Deku's balls soaked in your spit. "Why not?" he teases. "You love gettin' your balls fondled, don't you, baby?"

Deku only whines in reply, pathetically so. Bakugou grips the back of his neck and grips his boyfriend toward him. "Shut up all that whinin'," he softly growls before he slams his lips against Deku, the two of them sharing moans as Deku continues to fuck your mouth.

Todoroki is a little more reserved, but still has no problem expressing his pleasure to you. He is slower with his strokes, taking his sweet time to watch your lips stretch around him. But he is still nasty as ever, whispering dirty nothings to you: "That's a good girl," he hums. "Stroke that shit. Take that fuckin' cock."

You feel his hand toy with your ass, his fingers sliding down to touch your pussy. "A little higher, lovely. I want to touch you." You arch your back a little more, hiking your ass up to allow him to stroke your pussy still wet from your orgasm and becoming wetter at the sight of Bakugou and Deku kissing.

They notice immediately. "Oh, look at this!" Bakugou tuts as Todoroki's fingers become sticky with you. "Naughty girl is touchin' herself! So you like seein' your pros kiss, huh?"

He takes his sexy self off of the bed and slips onto his knees behind you, your ass mooning up. "Let's see how you can handle me," he murmurs before his tongue is caressing your pussy now. The cool metal of his tongue piercing sends you into a frenzy.

"Mmmm-phhh!" you moan around Todoroki's cock, your body vibrating and trembling.

The usually stoic pro is absolutely feral, cheeks flushed and hips bumping into your mouth, wanting to feel more of your walls stroking him as the sloshing sounds of Bakugou's tongue fucking your pussy drifts to his eardrums. "You're so wet for us, lovely. Such a good girl, giving us so much."

SPANK!

Your ass jiggles from a hand smacking hard against it, making you tense from the sting. "Don't ignore me," Bakugou growls. "Fuck my tongue. Show me how you like this."

Lust overtakes you, causing you to begin tossing your ass back into Bakugou's face, much to his enjoyment. He fucks his fist as you fuck yourself on his pierced tongue, your wetness filling his tastebuds. "You like this tongue, darling?" Todoroki asks, grinning at your slutty actions.

"Mmm-hmm!" you eagerly reply, drool still pooling from your mouth. Bakugou groans from behind you, slipping his tongue out of your pussy and replacing it with his finger stroking your slit. "Yeah, you do," he gruffly replies. "A nice big birthday gift for you, right?"

"It doesn't stop here," Deku adds, fucking your hand sobbing wet with his creamy pre. "We still need to...u-unless you don't want to! We'd be happy with just your mouth too!" He blushes a hot red, swallowing roughly.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what he means. "Do you want that, baby?" Todoroki questions. "Do you want to be fucked now?" He slips his cock out of your mouth to let you speak.

You blink at him, dazed and confused from the fog of pleasure and sex. "B-By all three of you?" you nervously stammer.

It now occurs to you that you've never done this before. Stepping through their door earlier, you were only thinking about being with the pros, never mind the inexperience. But now, as the prospect of being fucked by three big cocks comes into fruition, you start to sweat.

Bakugou suddenly appears in the bed again and grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Words." His tone is firm; not with the BS. You are pulled to answer him correctly and truthfully. "Yes, please," you beg. "Fuck me, Daddies. I can take all of you."

You know you can. You can't give up your fantasy just because of nerves. You know that these three studs would NEVER hurt you without your permission or consent. You trust them.

The three pros' eyes flash at you calling them "Daddies" and look between each other, silently questioning the other. "So who goes first?" Todoroki aloud wonders.

Bakugou cracks his knuckles. “Only one way to find out...and no cheating! Don't make me blow a whole in this bitch!"

"Not again, Kaacha, c'mon!" Deku protests, cracking his neck.

Your stomach plummets. Are they about to fight for your pussy?!

The three men ball their hands into fists and stretch them out before repeatedly raising them up and down. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!" they shout in unison. On "shoot", they release their fingers. You resist the urge to laugh.

Bakugou has paper. Deku has paper. Todoroki has scissors. He smiles cockily as he snips at his boyfriends' fingers before he turns to you with an adoring gaze. "Looks like I'm first, lovely. I'll take you on your back, if you don't mind."

He yanks on your ankles, pulling you towards him and spread your thighs so he can sit between them. "I wanna see your face," he murmurs. You stare up at him, hypnotized by his brown and blue eyes, unable to look away as his tip rubs against your clit.

"That's my girl," he coos before he slides home inside of you, his cock clenched between the tight, wet walls of your pussy. You gasp, gripping his shoulders as your walls stretch around him inch by inch. Todoroki shudders at the feel of you, his face etched in pleasure. "Sh-Shit," he hisses.

He then begins to fuck you, rolling his hips against yours, drawing soft moans out of your mouth. Those moans grow louder when you feel Deku's hands cupping your bouncing titties, his green eyes filled with adoration and lust. “You look so pretty like this, doll,” he murmurs. “Such a pretty girl we got.”

"Yes, we do," Todoroki pants and presses himself closer against you to roll his hips. His cock slides in and out of you slow and deep, drawing whimpers and desperate moans out of you at the agonizingly slow pace.

You begin to wriggle around at the intense fucking, but Bakugou pins your ankles down, forcing you not to move. “Uh-uh, don’t run,” he growls. “You wanted it? You take it.”

Todoroki leans down to brush his lips against the shell of your ear. “Don’t let him scare you,” he whispers. “You take me so well, darling. So hot the way you’re filled up with me.” His fingers press into your thighs, turning ice cold and dragging across your skin.

He kicks his quirk in, letting his icy fingertips cool you down as his cock heats you up, stroking that spot inside of you that makes you see God. You shout for Him, moaning in pleasure. “God, Shoto!” you moan, tossing your head back against the sheets.

It's too much! It's all too overwhelming. Todoroki's face screws as if he is in pain, his hips stuttering slightly. “Shit, baby,” he groans. “I can’t keep going slow like this. I want to…do you want me to-“

“Yes!” you gasp, grabbing his shoulders. “Please, Sho, go faster! Fuck me!”

His monochrome eyes flash with a fierce fire that makes your pussy clench. “Fuck you?” he parrots. “Then you’d better fuck me back. C’mon, lovely, fuck that cock for me."

You do as told, pushing your pussy down into his cock as he pushes forward, fucking the velvety, creamy walls of your cunt. Your mouths draw open, your moans and feverish pants filling the air. Deku watches on, pressing his cock against your titties. “So pretty,” he whines. “Look at me, dolly. Look at what you do to me.”

Bakugou grins at his boyfriend, still pinning your ankles down as he ruts his cock against the sheets for relief. “Guess you’re goin’ next, nerd.”

And "next" is coming up quick because your second orgasm rises to the surface, making your walls clench around Todoroki and stroke him for all he is worth. “Oh, fuck!” you gasp. “Sho, I’m gonna cum!”

You dig your nails into his skin, the pleasure intense and all-consuming. “Me too, babe,” he groans, holding your face in his hands. “Please cum with me. Cum on that cock, baby, do it.”

His deep, soothing, saccharine voice washes over you as your orgasm hits, making you moan out his name and your pussy gush all around his cock. With a few more thrusts, Todoroki groans loudly as he empties himself inside of you, spurt after spurt of cum filling you up.

You gasp, feeling your body tremble as your orgasm continues, taking you on a long ride on a wave of euphoria. Even as Todoroki pulls out, it continues, making you shake and shiver like a leaf in autumn. As you’re in the throes of your intense O, Deku quickly gets on top of you and slides his dick home inside of you, replacing Todoroki.

“Ah!” you moan, damn near screaming. You don't expect the sheer pleasure or the stretch as Deku sinks himself inside of you. He sheepishly looks at you despite being in such a dirty, un-innocent position. “Sorry, cutie. You just looked too good!"

His fingers dig into the meaty flesh of your thighs, hiking your legs up over his shoulders. His emerald eyes glare into yours, lustful and molten. “I’m gonna go a little crazy, okay?" he softly says. "Just gonna fuck this pretty pussy hard and fast. I promise I won’t be too rough and you can always stop me.”

If he says more dirty, nasty words in his soft, adorable voice, you'll let him do anything to you. So you nod and he immediately begins fucking you like a damn animal. Hard and fast just as he promised. He digs his fingers into your ass as he draws his dick in and out, in and out, pistoning his hips like a jackhammer.

You grab him for dear life, feeling like a rider on a bucking bull. "O-O-Oh, m-my Gooood!" you wail, gasping and sobbing as Deku's cock jackhammers into your pussy, his thick fingers rubbing your clit.

"Look at him go," Bakugou chuckles, impressed with how rough his man is fucking you. "How’s she feel, little Deku?” Todoroki teases, his semi-hard cock throbbing between his thighs.

Deku is in his own little world, his mind foggy with pleasure and his freckled face flushed red. F-Fucking amazing!” he moans, still taking you deep into Pound Town. “I-I…fuck me….I really wanted this for so long, Y/N! You have no idea!”

He grips you to his body, your sweat, smaller form stuck against his, leaving you helpless to his rutting and merciful fucking. Who knew the sweetheart of the group was the roughest one of the three?

You pant in his ear, your hands in his hair and your eyes fluttering as your pussy melts around his throbbing cock. In a flash, you feel the familiar clench of another orgasm again. So fast it makes your head spin. “Oh, fuck, w-wait, Izu!” you gasp. “Oh, God, I-I’m about to…to cum again! Ha, ha, I can’t—“

“You wanna cum?” he asks, his lips sucking your earlobe. “Do it on that dick then. I want you to.” He goes faster. Harder. Grabs your hips and slams you into his cock over and over again, your clit rubbing repeatedly against his pelvis. “Cum for me, pretty doll. Cum with me!”

"Oh, shit, she's squirting!" Bakugou cackles while Todoroki watches in shock. You don't even realize you're cumming until you feel your pussy spasm, the pleasure washing over you once more as spurts of your squirt explode around Deku's cock.

Quickly, Deku lays you down and pulls out of you, furiously stroking his slick cock above your chest. He then tosses his head back, letting loud, salacious moans escape his lips. “Oh, fuck!” he bellows, spurting rope after rope of cum all over your titties.

You watch on, exhausted from your intense squirting session. You didn't even know you could squirt! Deku triggered something inside of you obviously.

Todoroki and Bakugou appear on either side of you, staring down at the pearly beads of Deku's cum coating your tits. “Don’t mind if we do," Todoroki chuckles. They then begin slurping and licking up the cum from your tits, emitting weak moans from you.

And then it's Bakugou's turn. He gazes down at you, head cocked to the side as he regards you. “I know you ain’t tired, birthday girl.” You don't reply. You can't. Your body is totally drained and your pussy feels like it could use a vacation, sloppy and drenched from your cum and the load you took from Todoroki.

But Bakugou, the bastard, doesn't care. In a flash, he lifts you up and forces you onto all fours, your ass sticking in the air for him as your face hits the soft mattress. “I know it’s not my day," he hums, "but I want a fill of some cake too.”

“Look at this ass!” Deku groans, looking pained at the sight of your bottom in his boyfriend's face. “It’s not fair that you get her like this, Kaachan.”

The blonde glares at his boyfriend, his hand stroking your asscheek. “If you want a taste so bad then shut up, lie down, and let her sit on that face.”

Deku, ever the closet pervert, quickly does just that and slips underneath your body with some help from Bakugou to move your tired limbs. Deku's head slides underneath you, now facing your pussy.

Bakugou gives him a devilish smile as he watches, loving how eager his boyfriend is to please you and him. “I want you to suck on that pussy AND those balls while I fuck her, understand?” he orders. Deku has already begun kissing and toying with your pussy with his tongue. “Mmm-hmm!” he eagerly replies.

“And you.” Bakugou wraps a hand around your throat, not squeezing but letting you know that he can if he wants. “I want you to fuck me back. Bounce on that dick fa’ me, okay, birthday girl?”

Plap-plap-plap! His tip slaps against your ass, making your cunt throb feeling the weight of his dick there. Despite your exhaustion and need for a shower, the need for his dick runs even deeper. “Yes, sir,” you softly reply.

And then, finally, Bakugou slides in and all words-and thoughts-cease to exist the moment he begins to fuck you. As he bumps his hips against your ass, your pussy clenches around his cock while Deku sucks and slurps from down below, taking everything you give him.

“Oh, my God,” Bakugou moans, gripping the soft meat of your ass, digging his fingers in. “So good. That pussy’s so good, baby.” Your walls squelch around his dick, taking him deeper inside of you with every passing minute. “Shit, shit, shit!” you wail. “Fuck, ‘Suki, you’re so good!”

Bakugou grins down at you, loving how you look bouncing on his cock like a slutty little bunny. “Yeah? Better than these two extras, right?”

Deku whines in protest against your pussy, still slurping away, while Todoroki raises up on his hips in front of you, facing Bakugou “Awww, now don’t be so mean, Bakugou. You like my kisses too much~”

He wraps a hand around Bakugou's neck and forces him into a rough, deep kiss that makes Bakugou fuck you deeper and harder until the bed is moving beneath you. You are a moaning, gasping, wailing mess, your sounds bouncing off of the bedroom walls, signaling to the neighbors how good you're being fucked.

You know that the fourth time you feel that familiar, warm tug in your core that this orgasm will be your last. Your pussy spasms around Bakugou's shaft, stroking him the more he fucks you. It can't be helped since Deku's tongue is so good, lapping at your clit like a thirsty man. “K-Katsuki! I’m gonna cum again!” you warn.

“You ain’t the only one,” the platinum blonde grunts, gripping your ass for dear life. “This ass and this nerd under me is makin’ it real hard to hold back.” Deku licks faster, urging you both to cum for him.

Todoroki gives his boyfriend a wicked smile, pressing a kiss to his neck as he lays a hand on your ass, squeezing it. “Don’t keep our baby waiting now. Cum for her, ‘Suki. Show her just who Daddy Dynamight is.”

That lights a fire in Bakugou because suddenly, he is relentless, his hips snapping hard and fast against your ass, pushing you into the bed.

SPANK!

You shout at the bite of pain as he spanks your ass, making it recoil against his palm. “Beg for it,” he growls. “Beg for my cum. Just ‘cause it’s your birthday don’t mean you get to be a spoiled brat.”

SPANK!

He does it again, making your eyes sting with tears that stick to your messy lashes sticky with ruined mascara. “Please, ‘Suki, give me your cum! Please! I need it all!” You begin to babble in pleasure, begging for the pro balls deep inside of you to fill you up to the brim with his spunk.

SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!

Bakugou continues to smack your gorgeous ass, the pain mixing with the pleasure and creating a cocktail that pushes you off of that cliff. “I’m cumming!” you sob. The blonde urgently nods, needing you to cum for him. "That’s right, give it to me. Give it all to me.”

You release yourself with a loud sob that makes your throat scratchy as your pussy spasms and creams once more. “Take it, baby!” Bakugou demands. “Take my fuckin’ cum!”

Then, he too explodes inside of you, forcing Deku to swallow everything while Todoroki hums in encouragement, stroking your ass and noticing how yummy your wet, glistening asshole looks. Your eyelids flutter and your body tenses, the intensity of your orgasm and the rush of Bakugou's cum inside of you making you dizzy and disoriented.

Exhausted, you tiredly roll off of Deku after Bakugou pulls out of you, leaving your pussy gushing with two loads and wetter than the ocean. Deku stares up at the ceiling, his mouth glistening with your wetness. “Oh, wow,” he pants. “That was…” He pauses, searching for the right word.

“Very messy,” Todoroki chuckles, pressing a kiss to Deku's sweaty brow. “You’re practically ruined, Midoriya.”

Bakugou chuckles, his tanned, tatted body slick with sweat. “So is she.” He nods at you lying on the bed, poking gently at your side. “Still on Earth with us, baby?” he cackles.

You can only stare up at the ceiling for a while, letting yourself gather your bearings. You feel as if you just took a rocket ship to space and you're now coming back down to Earth again. "Best. Birthday. Ever," you pant out.

The three pros give each other a secretive look, their eyes talking to each other. "And it doesn't stop here," Bakugou chuckles.

You hear the seduction in his tone and weakly stare up at him, eyes wide. He can't be serious!

The blonde regards you with his head tilted, a smirk playing on his lips. “What? You thought you were done?" He tsks, shaking his head. "Oh, no, baby. It ain't even midnight yet."

Todoroki nods, lying beside you and gently toying with your side, his fingers brushing your skin. "He's right; we've still got hours to go before your birthday ends."

Bakugou lays down on your other side, facing your chest that he begins to feebly toy with.

Deku hovers over you, his eyes a dark green and his expression reading nothing but promises of more hours of hot sex until morning. "So why don't we celebrate by making our pretty girlfriend cum over and over again?" he whispers. "How does that sound?"

Girlfriend. Not friend. You're their girlfriend now.

You couldn't have asked for more.

THE END.

314 notes · View notes

ice-echo26 · 15 days ago

Text

touch-starved

summary: dante is touch-starved, and he thinks the only way for him to feel something is to get punched by you

pairing: dante x afab!reader | based on the netflix version but definitely canon divergent

warnings: dry humping, unprotected p in v, creampie, degradation kink, very light choking, lots of swearing, kind of soft dom dante and light pain kink if you squint, idiots in love, friends to lovers, bit of praise, fem bodied reader

w/c: ~3.2k

a/n: this is definitely not my best work but it's a warm up ig. lol anyway i absolutely loved the dmc netflix version, and i'm considering getting the games

"Punch me."

Not a question, but an indisputable demand coming from the demon hunter, which made you do a double take, place the barrel of your M4 carbine on the table, and flat-out refuse.

"No."

He snarled, yes, snarled at you, slamming his pistol against the table with a loud bang. You looked up from your own weapon, taken aback by Dante's reaction, concern written all over your face. Was he high??

"Come on, Y/N, just do it. Just one punch, one tiny little punch. I know you want to." His cocky grin did numbers on your nerves, but you still refrained from giving him the satisfaction of hitting him. It’s been years since you met Dante, by this point you were used to his shenanigans.

"Why, though?" You decided to focus on cleaning your weapon, the sharp smell of isopropyl alcohol filling the room.

"Because," Dante groaned, snatching the bottle of liquid from you, causing you to glare daggers at him, "I'm touch starved."

You blinked once, twice, trying your hardest to process both his honesty, and the logistics of his request.

"Why not ask for a hug, then? Or, I don't know, go to therapy?"

"Hah! I'm sure my therapist is gonna have a field day with me! So, my dad, a demon, disappeared without a trace, then my mother and twin brother died, but actually my brother is alive somewhere. My therapist is gonna need a therapist."

"Okay, okay, you made your point. Still, you could just rephrase it. Maybe leave out the demon bit." You wiped the barrel clean before setting it aside.

"I'd rather get punched. Now, please."

"Dante, a punch isn’t gonna solve it. Are you sure you don’t want a hug? I could cook you something. Or we could grab a few beers and watch a movie, or talk about your feelings." You shrugged.

Both of you had done this before — went out for drinks, danced, cooked together, fell asleep together — it was so intimate, almost like you were a couple. But the reality was that you weren’t. Not by a long shot. Unfortunately for you, Dante was protective of you in the way an older brother was. You thought that, perhaps, he missed Vergil so much that you were the closest thing he had to a sibling in years.

"A punch would be less time consuming. Cooome on, babe, just hit me!"

You hated when he called you babe. He called other girls babe, girls that were hot, pretty, girls that were his type, and it was the nickname that made you clench your jaw and purse your lips.

"Ugh, fine!" You sat up, rotated your wrist and flexed your fingers. "Are you sure this is going to help in any way?"

"Positive. Right here." Dante pointed at his cheek.

"What, in your face?"

"You're stalling."

Without a single ounce of hesitation you swung your arm, hitting the demon hunter square in his face, but it caused you more pain than it did him, and you stumbled back, holding your fist in your other hand.

"Son of a fucking bitch!" You cried out in pain, knowing damn well that would happen. Still, you couldn't say no to him. Ever.

"Are you okay?" Dante was visibly concerned — a rare sight since he was always cool and edgy, even when his own life was in danger.

"Fuck no! Feels like I punched a brick wall!" You practically growled at him, gaze quickly softening when you saw the pure look of terror in his eyes. "But hey, nothing a little ice can't fix, right?"

"Right." He nodded and got up, making a beeline for the freezer.

There was no ice in it, but there was a pack of frozen peas somewhere at the bottom of a drawer, which Dante picked up and brought to you. When you reached for it, he, instead, took your sore hand in his, gently pressing the cold legumes onto your knuckles. You winced, instinctively trying to retract your hand, but he held it in place, his fingers wrapped around your wrist to stop you from backing away.

The pain wasn't gone, but it was becoming bearable, and a relieved murmur escaped past your lips, one that sounded closer to a moan than a sigh. Dante's cheeks burned, tinted red with embarrassment and arousal because you were yet another girl in his life who just didn't want to be involved romantically with him. Not that he tried anything with you, because he always thought you deserved better. Sure, he was cocky and flirtatious, but he wasn't a dick. If no one reciprocated the flirting, he didn't push his luck. It was simple. And he wasn’t the type who did one-night stands, despite the rumours. Dante enjoyed having a connection to the people he took to bed, he became sexually attracted to those he knew on a deeper emotional level. But sometimes, when he was really, truly desperate, he would download Tinder and hook up with random girls.

And he reeked of desperation.

"Dante, you can let go of my hand now." You told him, part of you hoping he wouldn't.

Who could blame you? He was an objectively attractive man, with a charming smile and a body sculpted by the gods themselves. Why would he ever want to get involved with you? Dante was your opposite — he talked, he sang, he danced, he was obnoxious. You were quiet, most of the time, and shy. In fact, when he first met you, he thought you had some form of speech impediment, with your nose in Boccaccio’s The Decameron, a book you stole from the public library because you were much too young to read. That’s when knew you were trouble, just like him.

"Yeah, of course." Dante stepped back. "How's your hand?"

"Better. How are you feeling?"

"Me? Why are you asking?"

"Hello?" You scrunched your nose and frowned. "You wanted me to punch you because you were touch-starved. Did it help?"

"I'll be honest, it felt more like a tickle than anything." He shrugged. "Are you sure you didn't pull your punch?"

There it was, the one thing that turned you from an introvert to a bat-shit crazy bitch — his stupid little mouth that he opened without ever thinking.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're telling me I risked breaking my bones so you could feel better, only for you to not feel anything? I swear to fucking God, Dante, this is the last time I'm doing anything nice for you."

"Nice? You punched me!" He threw his hands up in exasperation, while your blood boiled inside of you, sending you into a blind rage.

"You asked me to punch you, you maniac! You should've fucked me instead!"

Your eyes widened at the sentence that came out of your mouth without a single thought, mortified at your own stupidity.

"Hugged. I meant hugged. Shit."

"No, no, hold up, you didn't say hugged." Dante tilted his head, one hand rubbing his chin. "Isn't that called a Freudian slip?"

"I- well- how the fuck do you even know what a Freudian slip is?" You tried changing the subject but he didn't bite.

"Google." He closed the gap between the two of you, and for the first time you felt intimidated by him. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

The bluntness of his question, coupled with the sudden change in the pitch of his voice made you feel like a cornered prey. There was no possible way he was serious. But he wasn't wrong — the nature of your jobs made it impossible for either of you to have partners, and besides, you've known each other for years. It was only natural that some form of physical attraction would have developed between you two, right? But why you? Why now? And the worst of all your questions, why not?

You didn’t want to think about how this would ruin almost a decade of friendship. All you could think about was the look of pure lust in his eyes as he held your gaze, and how months upon months of sexual frustrations accumulated inside of you, bubbling and boiling and exploding when you dropped the pack of peas on the floor.

"Yes. I want you to fuck me."

Without a sliver of hesitation, you felt him pick you up with ease, hands roaming up and down his back as he slammed you down onto the table, desperately pushing away all the guns and knives. How thoughtful of him. Your hands slithered under his blood red coat while he tugged at your t-shirt, pulling it over your head to expose your bare breasts to him.

"No bra? Kinky." Dante stopped to take a better look at you.

"Stop talking." You firmly told him, but the chuckle that erupted from your throat betrayed you.

He was the one person you felt most comfortable around, so much so that you didn't feel weirded out by him pressing his lips onto your neck, or his fingertips bruising the plush of your hips, or his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipples. No, it felt natural, too natural, like your skin was made to be touched by him.

With his coat on the floor, you tackled his shirt, effectively tearing it off of him because you were just as desperate as he was, and Dante pulled your body closer to his, your clothed cunt accidentally rubbing against the bulge in his trousers. You were aching from the lack of sex, and you uncontrollably moaned at the tiny bit of friction before mumbling a weak 'sorry.'

"Fuck, don't be. That's actually kind of hot." He shamelessly admitted, and you rose a brow.

"Yeah? Then you wouldn't mind me doing it again?" You chewed on your lower lip, but he could see past the fake innocence when you rolled your hips, frantically and feverishly rubbing your clit through the layers of fabric. "Shit, I could come just from this."

For a split second, Dante wondered if this was all real. What happened to your shyness? How was it possible that his best friend, the quiet, nerdy girl he'd known for such a long time, was worse than any demon he'd ever encountered? Not that he was a saint. Far from it, because when you threw your head back, desperate to climax, his is eyes darkened, black seeping into his sclera. It should've made you afraid, but it had the opposite effect. The thought that he could activate his Devil Trigger and quite literally snap you like a twig turned you on.

"Do it, then." Dante's hand snaked behind the back of your neck, forcing you to look at him. "Show me just how needy you are."

Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead as you fucked yourself on the half-demon, fog settling in your brain with each breath, each movement, each beating of your heart. Faster. Harder. Faster. Harder. Faster.

"Oh-" Any sentence you tried to utter stopped in your throat, replaced by a string of whimpers and curses. Whatever you were trying to babble was reduced to incoherent words.

"Well shit, I didn't know you were such a filthy little slut."

"Just- oh- shut up-"

"Hmm, I don't think you really want me to shut up." Dante sneered when you picked up the pace. "I think you like it when I talk like this."

"N-not true!" You yelped as he pinched your nipple, barely doing anything and yet you were a mess already.

"So, you don't want me to call you a fucktoy, then? Bet you're dripping right now. Bet you want me balls deep inside of you."

"Fuck, I'm gonna come!" You proved his point when your entire body quivered under his, mind blank and vision blurry.

"There, there." Dante pressed his lips onto your forehead. "I got you."

The noise of his belt unbuckling made you snap your eyes open, filling you with newfound desire and guilt — poor Dante, his cock was probably aching by now while you had the time of your life. He stepped back, letting his trousers pool at his feet, and you lifted your skirt to peel your panties off. You caught him staring at you, taking the sight in, and what a sight it was — locks of hair fell out of your bun, sticking to your sweaty temples, your legs still shaking from the orgasm, and your cunt dripping wet.

"I'd love to eat you out, babe, but my balls are genuinely gonna explode." He confessed, earning a giggle from you. Even with his eyes pitch black and his Devil Trigger on the verge of activating, Dante was still Dante. And you loved that about him.

"Hurry up and fuck me, then."

"Are you that desperate that you forgot your manners?" He dug his fingertips into the plush of your hips, violently pulling you closer to him.

"Please hurry up and fuck me?" You pouted.

"Good girl, that's better." Dante pushed your leg to the side with his elbow, dragging his cock up and down your slit.

You didn't get the chance to take a look at it, but the tip felt huge, so much so that you gasped, propping yourself on your elbows to see better, and you were not disappointed. In fact, you were concerned. You could not take it.

"Dante, it's not gonna fit."

He shook his head with a half-smile, finding your concern quite cute.

"I'll make it fit."

It was both a promise and a threat, but you trusted him. God, you trusted him with your life. He slowly and gently pushed the tip, your slick more than enough to lubricate his cock, but he stopped every time you looked uncomfortable to make sure you were okay.

"Tell me if it's too much."

"No, you can- it's fine, keep going." You closed your eyes, the discomfort causing you to clench around him instead of relaxing, which made Dande forget how to breathe or think.

But the worst came to a halt when he was fully in, stopping briefly to allow you to accommodate to the size. Your breathing went back to normal soon enough, and the last ounce of pain in your body was swiftly replaced by a surge of electricity when Dante moved, slowly and softly rolling his hips, unable to abstain any longer. And you didn't want him to when his cock filled you up so good, reaching places you didn't even know existed inside of your body. Your fingernails dug into his back, clawing at his skin with desperation and impatience, like you needed more than what he was already giving you.

"See? I told you I’ll make it fit. And you take me so well." Dante said, dragging his mouth over your neck, your scent overloading his senses.

But it just wasn't enough. No matter how painful, you wanted it-

"Harder."

Assertive, demanding, you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he pulled back to look at you, as if not believing your request.

"A minute ago, you were wriggling in pain, now you want it harder?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation. "I want it harder, faster, please-"

You were shushed by two digits forcing open your mouth, and you instinctively wrapped your lips around them, sucking obediently.

"You talk too much." He gave you a taste of your own medicine. "Should've known you were just a dumb little cocksleeve."

The degrading words caused you to moan and drool around his fingers, tears welling up in your eyes. Each thrust had you clench tighter, the tip of his ridiculously large cock punishing your cervix. Pain and pleasure bubbled inside of you, sparking through your body as Dante practically ripped his fingers from your mouth, only to wrap them around your throat. He was a hungry man, and you were dinner — arching your back to get closer, deeper, you fucked yourself on his cock with his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, and he revelled in your worship.

"Shit, you like it when it hurts, don't you?" He whispered, squeezing harder while you nodded eagerly. "Of course you do."

Of course you did. How could you not when he fucked you so good that your dignity and modesty were long forgotten? When Dante stripped you of your decency to bring out the worst in you? You felt your second orgasm build up, causing you to twitch under him, eyes rolling back as you slipped your hands under his arms, holding on for dear life.

"Again- gonna come again, Dante! Fuck!"

"Atta girl." He held your quivering body, his own hips stuttering, brutally thrusting into you with raw, animalistic passion.

You came undone on his cock, fingers carding through his hair, pushing away white locks to look at his pretty eyes while his arm slithered under your lower back to both support you and bring you closer to him. Dante was close, his throbbing cock still stretching your sore cunt out. He bucked his hips, splitting you open while you latched your arms around his neck, tits pressed against his chest and your lips ghosting over his earlobe.

"Almost there, babe." Dante promised. "You're doing so well." He pulled back, nearly on edge, but you squeezed your legs tighter around his waist.

"Don't pull out." You demanded, and that was enough to help him reach enlightenment.

He filled you up, and when he did pull out, watching his cum slowly leak out of you, you could've sworn he whispered 'marry me' under his breath. Surely it was just the brain fog, or the post-orgasm high. Your whole body was numb, and you stumbled into Dante's arms when you tried to get down from the table, muscles sore and aching.

"You wanna get pizza?" He nonchalantly asked, as if he didn't just fuck his best friend.

"I- shouldn't we talk about this?" You avoided looking into his eyes, opting to stare at the floor instead.

"About what?"

God, he was either insufferably oblivious or remarkably good at pretending.

"Us." You sighed.

"What's there to talk about?" Dante's fingers found your chin, and he gently lifted it up, forcing you to look at him.

"Don't make this harder for me, please. You know things won’t be the same now. We’re not in a relationship and-"

"I don't follow." Confusion was written all over his face. "Do you not want to be my girlfriend?"

"Girl- I- hold up, what? Do you want me to be your girlfriend?" You tilted your head, baffled by his question, because of course you wanted to. You just never had the guts to admit that you like him. It was even more shocking that he liked you back. Wasn’t this all just a one-time thing?

"I mean, I thought it was pretty obvious when I fucked you. What, you thought I nut and dip? That I shoot a load and go back on the road? That I cum n go?"

"Wow, please never use those euphemisms ever again." You cringed at his words, trying your best to hide the smile that crept on your lips.

"Christ, babe, you know I don't do one-night stands unless I’m really desperate. And here I thought you were my best friend. Guess I was wrong." Dante gasped, dramatically feigning offence by placing a hand on his chest.

"I’m not your best friend anymore." You said, voice serious and cold, and his charade was quickly replaced by actual worry and offence. "I'm your girlfriend now. And your best friend."

"Okay, I was genuinely concerned. Fuck you." He flipped you off and you sneered.

"You already did."

"Wait, that's my line!"

"Skill issue."

2K notes · View notes

ice-echo26 · 15 days ago

Text

1-800-HOT-N-FUN

───✦ DILF! GOJO X READER

♡ summary: it took a month and 3 days before your self-control snapped. who doesn't love hot dilfs! p2

♡ wc: 7.3k

♡ content warnings: fem! babysitter! reader, dilf! older! gojo, age gap, groping, pining, p in v, best friends brother (bfb), divorced, babysitting, mention of kids, breéding kink, big díck gojo, mating press, reader is down bad, fíngering, unprotected.

♡ a/n: freak week (ovulation) has had me in a chokehold…

Beautiful blue eyes, pure white hair, taller than you by a few feet, excellent bone structure, and drop-dead gorgeous. In your 14-year-old brain, he was the most gorgeous person you had ever seen with your own two eyes. He strutted across the spacious living room. In all the years you had been over your best friend's house, you had never seen whoever this man was in her house. You were almost angry she didn't introduce you sooner.

“Who’s that?” you whispered, keeping your eyes on the unknown man sitting on the couch on the phone. He sat on the sofa with familiarity, lying on his side on the sectional.

“My brother,” Utahime said with disdain, scoffing while flipping through the magazine. You looked between them, trying to find some similarity in their features. Maybe they looked somewhat related if you looked long enough, but that was stretching it. “Step-brother,” she answered.

Nodding, you peeked back at her brother. He was better looking than all the male models in your magazine, which was now getting incredibly boring. “How- uh old is he?” you asked, trying to come off the least bit suspicious. She giggled like she was expecting you to ask.

“20. Why? You got a crush on Satoru?” she whispered, snickering at you. Your hands quickly found her mouth, covering it just in case her brother heard. Something wet swiped across your palm, moving your hand back, you looked back in disgust, wiping the spit residue on your jeans. Sartoru’s previous conversation on the phone ended as he set his phone on the coffee table. “Well, that sucks.” She sighed, looking off, avoiding your eyes.

“What, why?”

“Oh, I don't know…”

“C’mon please!” you begged, coming up with the worst possible scenarios in your head. Is he gay? You could probably live with that. Is he a secret weirdo? That's okay, everyone is weird in their way. The worst possible thing could be that he's married. Looking off at his hand now wrapped around the remote, empty; good. He's not wearing a ring plus he's so young.

“Well okay,” she grinned. “He's engaged, it's supposed to be secret, ‘kay?” In the 5 minutes and 37 seconds you have known of Satoru, your heart shattered. Your fantasy of a white picket fence, together married crumpled into a ball, and thrown into a fire. Staring at her in disbelief, ready for her to say “sike” but she never did, instead gossiping to you about Satoru’s secret relationship. Even though you were heartbroken from your extremely brief “crush” you couldn't help but listen.

“Our parents really hate her, like seriously. Like three years ago, she came over and she and Satoru were alone in his room.” She looked around the room before standing up and gathering the magazines. “Let's go upstairs.” Nodding, taking your bag off the floor, anxious for the rest of the story. Both of you dashed up the stairs, Satoru looking skeptical of the two of you, your feet pattering up the steps.

You sat on her bed in her room as she closed her bedroom door. “What happened?” you pleaded. What could his fiancée have possibly done to make their parents not like her so much? From what you've seen of them, her parents were so nice. They weren't even mad when Utahime failed gym, arguably the easiest class ever. She laughed, crawling on the bed towards you, lying on her stomach.

“Alright, so my dad walked in on them and she had Satoru literally hanging out of his window.” You gaped, hanging off her every word. “They were arguing with Satoru for hours, even kicking Victoria out.”

“Is that his girlfriend, I mean fiancée?” you asked, happy at the sudden name drop. You were going to ask for her name anyway, but at least Utahime told you before you had to. She nodded, continuing on how he wouldn't tell them for weeks until he finally caved once they threatened to ban her from the house.

“They were trying to sneak out to go to his friend's party. You know how my parents are, no way was he getting out, and he snuck her over. He ended up getting grounded for a month,” she shrugged. You almost forgot he was old enough to even go to parties, even worse, they had been together for three years.

“Wait so why don't they like her?” You questioned if she was already not allowed before the window incident, what happened to make them not like her in the first place? She whistled looking around her room. She leaned in closer, lowering her volume. “I don't know much since they didn't tell me but from what I know they think she cheated on him a few times.” Your mouth dropped, how could you cheat on Satoru, your dislike for her grew, that was previously only based on “Victoria” being Satoru’s fiancée, was now fueled by the new information. “I know right! I still don't know if it's true or not, but they are engaged so they worked it out somehow...” She shrugged, rolling her eyes.

“Woah, what are we gossiping about?” The bedroom door was open, with a very hot Satoru standing against the frame. It didn't seem like he was standing there long; at least not long enough to hear Utahime gossiping about his love life. He looked between the two of you before plopping on the bed.

“Oh my god, you still don't know how to knock?” She face palmed moving away from him. He laughed, it was music to your ears, shrugging as he looked back at you.

“Don't even miss your sweet big brother, you're harsh.” he sulked, wiping a fake tear from his dry eyes.

“I've missed you oh so very much,” she said with faux enthusiasm, “Are you done now?” she sighed moving up towards the headboard and you. Even from across the bed, he smelled like vanilla, somewhat of cookies too.

“Gosh, she's so mean, stay safe,” he warned looking at you. Your face heated up at him addressing you, he was so dreamy it was driving you crazy. “What's your name? Utahime is so embarrassed of her brother she didn't even introduce me. I'm Satoru,” he said, rolling off the bed, waiting for you to answer, but you were utterly speechless. Picking up on your situation, Utahime answered for you.

Pushing Satoru towards the door, “Okay, get out!” she pushed trying to close the door on him, ignoring his constant pleas.

“Wait- remember our deal right? I'll tell them later tonight, okay?” he said, holding the door open with his hands as her back was against it.

“Yeah yeah I remember to go now.” finally pushing the door closed, barely missing his fingers. Turning the lock, waiting to hear his footsteps go back down the stairs. “God, he is so annoying.” she groaned, swiping off her leggings.

“And hot.” you blurted out. She looked at you in pure disgust, putting her finger toward her mouth in a puking motion. She sat back on the bed, fixing the bedding that Satoru had messed up.

“You're so gross, he's going to be back for a while because of spring break.” You nodded, making a mental note in your head to keep your hangouts at her house. For the rest of the afternoon, the two of you talked about mundane things before it was time for you to go home. Out the door, you took one last look at Satoru before leaving and getting in your parents' car.

Every time you went over to Utahime’s house during breaks, the anticipation that Satoru would be there filled your stomach with butterflies. She often joked that you were only her friend for her brother; which was entirely false and she knew that. By the time you were 16 with a boyfriend of your own, Satoru turned into a distant crush and something to laugh about with Utahime. Once you moved to college, you assumed you would probably never see him again unless it was with Utahime back home, but he rarely came over after he got married.

“I need a job,” you complained, sipping on your iced coffee that was becoming watery. Your last job fired you after ownership switched over and you were struggling to find a new one. The cafe was relatively empty, and was close to campus. You even tried applying here, but they denied your application.

Utahime across from you perked up, “You remember Satoru right?” she asked, continuing to type on her computer. You nodded, he had become Utahime’s trump card whenever she wanted you to do something for a year and a half. “He moved around here recently but he needs a babysitter. He asked me but I'm too busy. Want me to ask? Pay is pretty good too,” She explained, telling you the days which were mostly weekends, Mondays, and Wednesdays.

Your eyes lit up, the days fit right in your schedule and it wasn't for too long either. “How much and how many kids?” You asked, scrolling through your relatively empty calendar.

“50 an hour and it's just one.”

“Send me his number,” you replied quickly. You've had previous sitting experience so this should be a piece of cake. If anything, you didnt even know he had a kid, but it was kind of to be expected since he and his wife had been together for so long. Grabbing her phone, a message popped up on your laptop showing the number she sent. Immediately you added his number, preparing what to send.

Your finger rapidly typed against the keyboard, rereading the message, making sure it was professional enough and no grammatical errors. The message was sent, and the delivered icon showed at the bottom of the text. “Wow you're quick, you'll get it don't worry. My nephew is good too,” she assured you, giving a thumbs up from behind her computer.

Hopefully…there was no way you could go another week without some kind of income.

Sighing, you got back to studying, keeping an eye on your notifications for a message from Satoru. The rest of the session went on with the hope of a response in the back of your mind, pushing you to study more to get it off your mind. The orange glow of the sunset radiated through the café's wide windows. “I'm tired, let's get back.” You yawned, stretching your body on the chair. Taking off your glasses to let your eyes rest from looking at the screen of your laptop for hours on end. You wore them for blue light protection, especially for studying on days like this. Utahime agreed, jumping up in her seat to start packing up.

Gathering your things, and placing them neatly back into your study bag, your phone vibrated on the table. ‘Yep, it's still open! Would you be okay coming over sometime this week for an interview?’ Doing a silent celebration in your head, you responded yes, telling him you were free anytime this week. ‘Awesome, let's do tomorrow at 3!’ he responded immediately. Your fingers typed back, ‘Thank you, and see you soon!’.

“Who are you texting?” Utahime smirked, peeking over at your phone.

“Your brother. I have an interview with him tomorrow.”

“Congrats, make sure to not flirt with my brother.” she quipped, pulling her bag over her shoulder. You were laughing behind her. That crush was so long ago, that you were not going to flirt with your potential boss, especially not when he's married with a kid.

Pulling into the driveway of the large house in front of you. There was even a fountain in the front! It was the address Satoru sent to you, there was only one car in the driveway, other than yours. Ringing the doorbell next to the large double doors with frosted glass. You could hear a bit of clattering and feet pattering before the door opened. Staring at the older man in front of you, you're glad you didn't make any promises with Utahime. He looked as gorgeous as ever, probably even more since the last time you saw him was a few years ago at Utahimes 18th birthday.

“You're here!” he said, opening the door wide, and leading you in. “You can leave your shoes here,” You took off your shoes, placing them neatly on the shoe mat. “Thank you. You can have a seat on the coach over there,” he pointed towards the living room on your right. He sounded somewhat the same as you remember, still a little boyish but more mature; sexier. The house was beautiful, almost more than it was outside. Walking towards the living room, I had a large sofa with a coffee table across from it and a massive television attached to the wall.

Movie nights must be great. You wondered sitting on the edge of the plush couch cushion. It took a few moments before Satoru came back. “Sorry, my son just left, I was cleaning up a bit but I lost track of time.” He wiped off the back of his joggers, trying to look more presentable. “Alright, let's get started!” he sat down in a chair in front of you. He started asking you about your last jobs and handed him your printed resume showing all the job experience you've had. You were trying to pay attention to his questions, but your mind would annoyingly wander about how sexy he was. Every few minutes you would look around the room for family pictures. There was a painting on the wall but that was it.

“My baby is my pride and joy. If anything were to happen to him, I don't know what I would do.” his carefree tone throughout the interview turned serious. You nodded profusely, your hands getting sweaty on your lap, your back straightening. “It's okay, no need to be so nervous. I've been trying to find a sitter for weeks, my work has been getting a little demanding.” he chuckled, giving you a thumbs up. “50 an hour Monday and Wednesday 6 to 10 and weekends 5 to 11. You're good, your resume looks fantastic. Do you have any questions for me?”

“How old is your son?”

“He's 10 months old.” he responded with a smile, “He is so adorable, I can show you a few pictures on my phone. Sae looks just like me,” he said pridefully pulling his phone out of his pocket, his lock screen being a baby with white hair in a blanket asleep. He opened an album that seemed to be solely dedicated to his son. He showed you pictures and he wasn't wrong, the kid looked identical to him.

“He's so cute, your twin.” You said staring at the picture of him playing with a toy set. He agreed, looking fondly at the screen. He handed you a paper schedule explaining that he would let you know if there were any date changes and that there was a feeding schedule on the fridge and where his food was.

“In the packet, it has everything from his favorite shows to his nap times,” he explained, showing you around the large home. It was ardently clear his son was the light of his life, he had a 10-page packet front to back dedicated to his son. If anything it was a bit obsessive, but you could understand. Leaving your child with someone gets scary, and being there is important even if it's the exact spot of the bed the baby sleeps best at.

Very thorough.

“That should be everything, are you good this weekend?” he asked, with a pleading look in his eye. You were going to go clubbing but you can always do that some other time. Once the words yes fell out of your mouth, he gave you spilling out multiple thank yous. “You're a saint,” he said your name, the way it rolled off his tongue tickled your brain in a way it shouldn't. He was a very married man with a kid. Maybe your hormones were weird, he was completely off limits, and even worse, he was Utahimes brother. He let you out of his tight embrace, his demeanor uplifted.

“I'll see you this weekend!” he said, seeing you off to your car. You unlocked the car door as he opened it for you. You must be ovulating the way you tried to tear your eyes away from his arms traveling downward…”Drive safely.” He grinned watching you get inside the driver's seat.

“Thank you so much for today! I'll see you Saturday.” Putting your car in reverse, you waved back at him as he walked back to the house. This job would take a lot of self-control, but you hoped once the kid was with you, then the professional switch in your brain would finally click.

The next few days were a blur, Saturday morning, Satoru sent you a confirmation text, making sure you were still coming. It almost makes you wonder why he struggled so much to find a sitter. The pay was good and the hours weren't bad, even better, it's a baby. Utahime said he lived close, but it was almost a 30-minute drive to his house, so you had to get ready early wearing some yoga pants and a zip-up hoodie.

You sang along to the songs playing in your car as you drove damn near a half hour to Satoru’s house but it's okay at least his face made up for it. When you pulled into the driveway, there was another car, other than Satoru’s. Must be his wife. You sighed, you knew at some point you would need to meet her. Even after all these years, you'd never seen her face, not even a picture. Getting out of the car, getting your bag, the thick packet tucked safely in a folder.

“Bye, sweetie mommy loves you.” A woman with long hair bent down kissing the Sae on the forehead before walking past you completely. Satoru waved goodbye to her as she entered her vehicle.

Satoru called your name as you looked at the woman in the car. Your imagination had come up with many possibilities of what she could have looked like, especially since Sae took after Satoru. His genes were strong as hell. She was beautiful and looked sophisticated, they were a cute couple. You were almost jealous but you had other things to worry about like your job. “Sorry, here I come.”

He was already dressed in a business suit, “I have to go, but thank you and I'll see you at 11.” he rambled, giving the one last kiss, “I'll miss you so much, be good okay.” He gave you a final goodbye before rushing to his car.

“It's just me and you.” You spoke to the baby who looked at you confused. “Oh right.” You introduced yourself to Sae who played on the strings of your jacket as you held him. You brought him inside, checking the clock, he still had an hour until snack time.

You played with him on his building blocks until nap time. You were pretty surprised as he didn’t cry, he was a smiley baby if anything. He was literally his father's clone. Same eyes, hair, and even his chubby baby hands. No DNA test was needed for the father at least…mother was a different story. They had little to no resemblance; you almost questioned if she was the mother in the first place. Perhaps it's because you were used to Satoru’s face, it was the only one you could see. The baby started drooling at the commercials on the screen of his room's television; looking at the time, it was already snack time.

Crouching down to pick him up, you noticed a picture on the diaper cabinet with a Polaroid picture of Sae, Satoru, and his wife. They looked like a happy family grinning ear to ear in the picture. You smiled to yourself, someday you did want a family of your own, but first, you needed to finish your last year in college and handle your job once you graduate. For now, all you could do was fantasize. Carefully going down the grand staircase with the child on your hip.

You opened the fridge, it was packed full of healthy food, a few packed lunches sitting on the top shelf and baby food right next to it. Grabbing the unsweetened yogurt and a baby spoon out of one of the drawers. As Sae ate, you watched the sunset from the windows. After this, it would be nap time according to the packet, and a note stated that he liked to sleep next to someone. You giggled imagining Satoru lying next to Sae, both napping together, you'd bet Satoru had a picture of that too.

Once he was done, you washed the spoon in the sink, rinsing the bubbles from the sponge and dish soap. Getting the baby from the booster, you took him back up to his room, sitting on the grey recliner next to the crib. Sae started yawning, lying on your chest, as a child show on Netflix played on the television on the wall. After the first episode, he went to sleep spittle pooling on your jacket. He was so cute it hurt. Seeing how he was today, it would be an easy job, the hardest part being his father.

Grabbing the remote, you decided to put on one of the shows you were watching recently, you clicked on the guest account, typing the show into the search bar. Clicking play on the last episode you watched, skipping the recap and intro. The volume was turned down low enough that it would wake the little gojo lying on you, a blanket draped over him.

Occasionally he would shift in his sleep, turning over onto your arm, giving you a little more room to move. Your phone rang on the table next to you, quickly grabbing it so it wouldn't wake the baby. “Hello?” you whispered into the phone, you hadn't even checked who the caller was.

“Aw, you guys look so cute,” a familiar voice said over the phone, you could see he had a pout through the phone almost. You stifled a giggle looking toward the camera in the corner of the room, pointing at both of you. You waved with your hand. “Hello to you too, just checking in. It's nap time, so I assumed he was asleep,” he stated. You looked at the camera knowing he was watching through the cameras.

“Yeah he's been great,” you muttered, keeping the small blanket on Sae. You were becoming a little cold, your legs crossed to keep in what little heat you had.

“That's good, I was a little worried he would be shy around you but you're getting along great. I knew you would be perfect.” Your face began to heat up from the compliment, but you tried not to take it any other way than professionally. “What are you watching?” he asked, through the phone, it sounded like he was in a quiet area.

“It's grown-ish, don't worry I'm on the guest account,” you answered, Satoru chuckling through the phone. “What?” you questioned wondering what he could be laughing about.

“Are you even old enough to watch that?” he joked, watching your reaction through the camera.

“I'm 23, not 12.” You scoffed, your arms were becoming stiff under the baby’s weight. Gently you moved him to the side of your phone to switch places.

“God you make me sound old,”

“You're 29, that's not too bad.” You yawned. It was almost 9 and you were also a little sleepy, even though all you'd done all day was sit if you could even call it that, when it was so easy.

“I'm surprised you remember how old I am.” You had a feeling he was about to bring up some embarrassing memories. “Oh yeah, sorry about today, I meant to stay a bit to make sure he did well but I got caught up with Victoria.”

“No, it's okay I understand.” Your eyes watered from how tired you were.

“Hey he's not waking up as long as you're under him, he puts me to sleep every time.” He said he heard the tiredness in your voice.

“I couldn't do that, definitely not on the first day.” You pushed yourself awake. No way were you going to fall asleep on the job, that would be too embarrassing.

“Whatever you say captain.” he laughed. “Oh, I have to go now, I'll see you late tonight if you're not asleep.” You were going to reply but hung up. Looking at your phone, you might as well check and see if anyone texted you. Utahime did, but you might as well call her, she is such a slow texter it'll take her 3 years to text you back. The phone rang 4 times before she picked up.

“How is it going over there?” She asked breathing into the phone. It sounded like she was at the gym. You could hear Sae’s soft snoring, which you're sure was getting picked up through the phone. “Didn't admit your undying love for Satoru yet, did you?” she sneered. You rolled your eyes, if only he wasn't married.

“It's going good and no, I did not. I just got off the phone with him before I called you,” you whispered, keeping the phone propped up on your neck. She whistled through the phone background machinery and chatter in her background.

“At my party you couldn't even look him in the face, now you're holding this kid. Couple goals!” Utahime quipped before cursing into the phone. You tried holding in your laughter, kids without a nap weren't fun, and you did not want to see what Sae was like without one.

“That's what you get.”

“Shut up, this fucking stairmaster is hell.” She grunted, perceiving through whatever “hell” she was going through. You continued to talk to her about your day, keeping an eye on the time, and the sleeping child on your arm. Your bodies lay comfortably on the recliner waiting for time to pass and for you to get in your own bed. By the time you got off the phone with her, it was already 10:30.

It was late so Sae was officially asleep for the night. Carefully getting up, you placed the baby inside the crib, laying on the soft mattress.

“I'm home!” Satoru cheered, giggling at the keys from downstairs and opening the oak doors. Your stuff was already packed ready to go home and sleep. “I brought food.” he smiled, holding up a brown bag. You were going to eat a cup of ramen noodles at home but it wouldn't hurt eating here. It's free food!

Settling at the island in the kitchen you climbed to the top of one of the stools. He pulled out two plastic containers of Chinese food, the aroma filling your nose. “Got it on my way back.” you waited for him to start eating first as he mixed the ingredients together. The food was surprisingly good and still warm, looking between your containers you noticed he got you the same thing as him.

“You have good taste.” it wasn't just a compliment on his taste in food but rather everything from his home to his wife. Hell, he even had the good Q-tips. He perked up his brows furrowing as he swallowed the rest of his food.

“Where do you think Utahine gets it from,” he smirked. “If I didn't take over the business I would totally do that new age influencer thing,” he said, taking a large bite out of the rest of his food. You weren't even half finished. You knew his family was rich but nothing about a business. Maybe someday down the line, you'll ask for a raise.

“What would your employees do without you?” you joked stretching your legs yawning into your hands. Finishing your food Satoru watched talking endlessly about his employees. One thing you did remember about Satoru was that he talked a lot.

“Poor Ijichi needs a vacay.” he sulked, throwing the plastic containers into the waste bin. The conversation felt so natural and so comforting. It had been a while since you talked to anyone other than close friends.

“You could send him on vacation.” he stared at you, considering your suggestion as though he hadn't thought about that.

“You're right. I could.” taking off his suit jacket only wearing the white button-up. “Wanna help me come up with some places? I was thinking somewhere warm.” Alone with him any longer? Too dangerous.

“Maybe next time,” you looked between him and the clock. The drive would be long enough to clear your mind of these indecent thoughts.

“Oh right, campus is quite the drive.” he offered to drive you home but you denied getting into your car. The drive alone was something you needed. Wishing him a goodnight he watched you drive off your headlight illuminating the dark empty street.

The next few shifts with Sae and Satoru became your routine. After a month you didn't even need to refer to the packet when it was time for the baby's bath time and which particular order to use his soaps. That small part of you sensed that innocent crush slowly resurfaced the more contact with Satoru. When his gaze lingered for a little too long you figured you were imagining it but some part of you wished you were right. He'd bring the both of you food at the end of your shift even sharing the rest of your food only after he finished begging for a bite even though it's the exact same thing as what he had.

11:15 pm

The jingling of keys opened the door carefully. “I'm home…” there was no response or patterning of feet coming down the staircase. Empty and quiet. Unusual.

Going upstairs, Sae's room was empty and the light shut off. Worry started to fill Satoru’s mind. The house was way too quiet and you and Sae were nowhere to be seen. Calling your name frantically checking every room upstairs before going to the 1st floor. Turning the corner he was met with your sleeping bodies slump on the couch. Sae lay on your chest, he let out a long sigh, closing the call app on his phone.

The image was too cute to handle, too domestic to think too much about. From an outside perspective, you looked like a mother napping with his baby. Quickly grabbing his phone without a second thought he took a picture of the two of you lying there resisting the urge to utter an audible “aww”.

As cute as you both looked it couldn't have been comfortable. Silently he picked Sae up, taking him upstairs to his crib. When he returned downstairs you were still asleep changing positions curled up on the sofa.

Picking your pliant body up holding you in his arms as he traveled upstairs. He debated between his room and the guest room. Currently, the guest room has been turned into temporary storage. His room it is. He tried desperately to ignore your hand that was grasping his chest. Carefully setting your body on his mattress draping the lush duvet over your body. Drool had slipped through your plush lips taking his thumb he wiped the residue going just a little too slow taking in how soft your cheek was. His thumb grazed your bottom lip, the corners of your mouth twitched making him retreat, yanking his hand away.

Too close…

Looking down the imprint of his cock strained against his slacks. He was sleeping on the couch. There was no way he could lay in the same bed as you. He could barely keep his hands to himself when you sat across from him telling him about your day. Ever since the moment you stepped inside his home, he knew he had to practice self-control sitting in the car watching you through the security cameras as you walked through the house as you lived there memorizing the rooms no longer needing to wander aimlessly trying to find the bathroom.

Stepping into the shower connected to his room letting the frigid stream travel down his body trying to tame his hard-on. His mind started to race with the image of you with his child ring on your finger tied to him forever. The thought alone had him wrapping his hand around his cock in slow strokes. Depictions of you filling his mind the way your ass looked in those gray flare pants or how prettily your tits looked in a square cut top. It wasn't even that low cut, however, just the tiniest bit of cleavage peeking through. Suddenly his imagination conjured an image of you pregnant with his kid's stomach round and large. Spurts of cum splattered on the shower tiles.

Fuck.

When you awoke there was no longer a child lying on your stomach and you were way too comfortable. The room looks unfamiliar and the bed is too large to be your own. Turning your attention to the sound of a shower running and turning off. The room lights were dimmed making it easier for your eyes to focus. The door in the corner of the room opened and your eyes widened. Satoru stood there with only a pair of pajama pants on and a towel drying his hair.

“Oh, I’m sorry-”

“No, it's okay I thought you were…asleep,” he said, opening a few drawers and grabbing some clothes. You watched him attentively droplets of water from his hair dripping onto the floor. The muscles of his back moved as he dug through the drawer grabbing a fluffy blanket On the nightstand, there was a framed picture of Sae dressed as an elf. So it was Satoru’s room.

“Where are you going?” you asked as Satorg opened the door to the hallway. He looked surprised holding his blanket exiting the room.

“Downstairs..”

“Why?” pulling the cover off you got up your top it was hiked up showing a sliver of your midsection. “You could sleep in here,”

“But you're in here?” You looked at him confused. You were both adults. There was nothing wrong with being in a room together, alone.

“I have to go home anyway.” getting up, fixed the cover, pulling it back over the mattress.

“It's already late you might as well stay here.” he protested he wasn't wrong it was already 12 and to be honest you really didn't feel like driving especially not when Satoru was shirtless in front of you a small blush tinting his complexion. “So it's settled, you stay up here I go downstairs.”

“It's your room, I can't kick you out. Just stay here”

“You're a guest, it's too uncomfortable for you to sleep there.” one thing the couch wasn't uncomfortable but sure it he insisted.

“We can just sleep together then.” You didn't mean for it to come out the way it did, prepared to say never mind and beat him downstairs to reflect on what you said.

“Okay.” you didn't expect him to say yes, thankfully (unfortunately?) he didn't take what you said the wrong way and climbed into the bed. He peeled the cover back, opening a spot for you to lay down. Lying down putting the cover over yourself staring at Satoru’s back in front of you. The only thing separating you is the indent in the plush duvet. The air was thick with heat, whether, from the heavy blanket or the tension between you, you weren’t sure.

Your senses were hyper-aware of every crinkle in the bed trying to force yourself asleep. Closing your eyes but only images of Satoru’s bare chest moist and glistening from his shower. Your body was stiff against the bed hoping I'd you didn't make any movements the man next to you wouldn't notice how hot your body was growing or worse the heat developing in your panties.

Swiftly Satoru turned over facing you, his cerulean eyes examining your expression. You prayed that in the dark room, he couldn't see the way your eyes traveled to his lips, they looked so soft, delicate. His body seemed a lot closer than when you first laid down if you focused you could feel the faint air from his breathing. You could move over and prevent whatever impulsivity that you would possibly regret.

Your body inched just a little closer enough that you could see his individual lashes. They were long and full, guys always had nice lashes but his were as beautiful as the rest of his face, they complimented his eyes. So pretty. At least you ten years had taste.

“You think I'm pretty?” he said staring back at you, you would've been embarrassed but you were too distracted by the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke. “You're pretty too…” he moved some of your hair out of your face. You would really regret this later.

Before you even realized what you were doing, you reached for him, your lips brushing his. It was tentative at first, just a small touch. But then Satoru’s hand found your head, and the kiss deepened, slow but undeniable. Your fingertips grazed his chest feeling the soft skin. His hands traveled down your bag, his touch electric against your skin sending shivers up your spine. Crawling onto his lap, your hands feeling to his skin every dip and curve. His hands wandered down your top slipping under to touch your skin. Your lips were intoxicating as he drank in the kiss pulling back only to breathe.

His pupils were staring at your figure above him, he resisted the urge to rut his hips against yours for friction. Your hands were exploring his body groping wherever you could. The kiss was fervent basking in the way you tasted; you were so perfect. Suddenly you pulled back your face full of horror.

“This is so wrong-”

“I'm not that bad of a kisser-” he grazed his lips confused. That wasn't the problem, he was good too good. If you didn't pull back now you're afraid you wouldn't have.

“You're married!” you cried whispering so that Sae 3 doors down wouldn't hear. Satoru's face dropped into a look of humor holding a hand over his mouth. “This is not funny, I can't be a homewrecker!” you began to crawl off of him, tears welling in your eyes in the shame of the situation. His hand found you pulling you back on his lap. He held you tight in his arms, shushing your constant pleas.

“I got divorced months ago,” he stated plainly, your body was still in his arms as he rocked you. This entire time it was one of the many reasons preventing you from pouncing on him. He cupped your face close to his pecking your lips, wiping the salty tears from your face. “Thought you picked up on that already, guess not.” pinching your cheeks you wrapped your legs around him.

Now the only renewed fever pressing his lips onto yours. Your breaths came out sharp and unrestrained, your chests rising. Your bodies pressed flush, every point of contact burning, like you could consume each other if you would. His name escaped your lips in ragged whispers. Dragging your shirt off revealing the Victoria's Secret bra underneath. His hands wrapped around your waist keeping you balanced as he leaned back letting your hips rock against his. The fabric separating the two of you was becoming unbearable. Your clothes were too hot.

Your fingertips traced fervid lines down his abs and abdomen. His hands swiftly unclipped the hooks of your bra letting it fall off your shoulders and throwing it somewhere on the floor. Flipping you over your body jolting against the mattress, hastily pulling off your leggings and drenched panties in one go. He pushed your knees back watching how slick spilled out your pussy. Taking a finger collecting some that was dripping down sucking in his finger. You were going to drive him crazy.

Plunging his fingers inside your walls contracting at the intrusion sucking him in. The loud squelching of your pussy echoed through the room. You tried stifling your moans holding a hand over your mouth, your hips rocked back on his fingers as they roughly plunged in and out of you. You felt that tight core build up in your stomach until you came on his fingers, your toes curling in the air.

He had you folded your knee and touch the bed beneath you, pinned to the bed as he cock aligned with your hole easing in slowly. You gasped, eyes rolling in the back of your head. The stretch was so immense it almost hurt but the pleasure was too good. Once he bottomed out he waited for your walls to adjust to him. He cursed, rubbing languid around your clit. It was so hard keeping your voice in his agonizingly slow thrusts almost like he was testing how much you could take. Biting your lip keeping what sounds that wanted to escape your mouth in.

“That's good, you're so good,” he whispered, watching how his girth stretched your cunt swallowing every inch.

“F-faster- I can take it.” you moaned clenching around him desperate with more; as he pulled out glancing between your face and the soaking mess of your hole. Readily he pulled out before slamming into you knocking the air out your lungs. The pace was brutal. With every thrust his tip kissed your cervix, making him incredibly deep within you.

“Shit don't look at me like that might want to put a in you,” you were too out of it to tell if he was joking or not but you didn't care.

“Do it!” You cried out his name, the weight of hips thrusting into your heat had your core building up another orgasm. His velvet voice whispered in your ear. Your mind was too cloudy to make out what he said, it didn't matter. You moaned out a hushed yes.

The way your gummy walls wrapped around him he could stay like this forever, drilling into your heat. The way your tits bounced he could imagine them full of milk ready to be freed, the thought of a condom didn't even cross either of your minds. If he didn't slow down he'd paint your walls full of cum without a second thought. He muttered out praises drunk off your pussy.

“Fuck- hngh I’m soo close,” you whimpered your hands gripping the sheets as his pace continued. Your walls constricted around him gushing on cock. Your body spasmed a silent scream leaving your lips as you came. He groaned at how tight you were making small thrusts letting you ride out your orgasm. Thank god he and his ex divorced. You don't know if you'll ever give up the high you're on.

“Baby don't cry, remember you have to be quiet,” he wiped the wet tears from your eyes as he chased his own orgasm. His fingers left bruises on the back of your thighs keeping your body pinned to the mattress. His cock twitched inside of you, his cock pulverizing your insides. Little droplets of water dripped onto the mattress and your stomach, his hair still a little wet. Your face was so fucked out he couldn't help but stare drinking in your expression. “You can do it- hah I'm close.” he moaned, pressing your body further into the mattress impossibly digging deeper inside of you.

“Don't pull out, ngh- cum in me please!” you pleaded your hands grasping his biceps, your doe-eyed begging him to cum your sweet pussy holding him hostage above you. How could he say no? Almost instantly with one last thrust, his cock punctured into your hole stuffing your insides. Your eyes rolled back the warm liquid filling your womb. It was so satisfying the little moans Satoru let out keeping your body in place as he came.

“Don't move, I want to see how much you can fit. It'd suck for it to fall out.”

8K notes · View notes

ice-echo26 · 15 days ago

Text

random horny thoughts - hq (karasuno edition)

(･ω･)つ andy's notes: enjoy these filthy things while i pull myself out of writer's block jail

characters: ukai keishin, tsukishima kei, azumane asahi, yamaguchi tadashi, sugawara koushi, sawamura daichi, tanaka ryunosuke

cws: nsfw, smut, all characters 18+, cigarette smoking, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, daddy kink (ukai); dacryphilia, overstimulation, degradation (tsukishima); panty-sniffing, masturbation (azumane); praise kink (yamaguchi); exhibitionism, public sex (sugawara); oral (f receiving), a MUNCH (sawamura); premature ejaculation (tanaka)

ukai’s guilty pleasure is smoking a cigarette while you give him head, the rush of nicotine spiraling up his spine as your tongue greedily laves over his weeping tip. one hand gently rests on the back of your head, lazily stroking your hair while he rocks his hips up into your throat. “keep suckin’ on it just like that, pretty girl. you know exactly what daddy likes, huh?”

tsukishima gets hard when you cry (this is like canon at this point). his goal is to get you so fucked out of your mind you can barely talk, tears streaming down your face at the combination of overstimulation and degrading filth falling from his lips: “what, the little pillow princess can’t even take dick without cryin’ now?”

azumane has the nastiest panty-sniffing problem. first time he went down on you he sucked your pussy lips through your panties until you were shivering and screaming, fabric completely soaked through. after he ripped them off and pocketed them for later, it became a habit. whenever he’s away from you, he can’t cum without huffing your scent in like a fucking dog

yamaguchi cums at the mere suggestion of praise. the first time you wrap your hands around his cock and whisper how pretty it is, he's shooting ropes of cum all over your hands and up his tummy, stuttering out an apology until you shut him up with a kiss

sugawara loves to fuck you in public. not where anyone can see you, no—he doesn’t want anyone to be able to look at you when your mouth is slack with pleasure and your eyes are up in your head—but if he can sneak off to a closet at a party or duck behind a building to fuck you up against a wall he’s doing it. claps a hand over your mouth with a mischievous smirk when you’re too loud, "darling, I thought you didn't want people to hear us?"

sawamura eats pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. he’s a giver, and nothing makes him harder than slinging the backs of your thighs over his shoulders and diving into your cunt. he’s sweet with it most of the time, threading his fingers with yours and lazily drawing circles over your clit, but sometimes he’s impatient to feel your cute little hole gush on his tongue and manhandles you up onto his face where he can lick you until you scream

tanaka almost always prematurely ejaculates if you’re making out with him on his lap. if you’re in a skirt and the slowly dampening heat of your pussy starts throbbing against him—man is GONE. he drags you over and over his cock, head thrown back against the couch, something almost like a whimper escaping his throat—"fuck angel - ’s not fuckin’ fair for ya to feel this good"

2025 © all works belong to @sugarwarachan. do not repost, translate, or steal any of my works. reblogs and comments always appreciated my lil bbs <3

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ice-echo26 · 23 days ago

Note

Muahahahahahaha~ Let’s give our Iwa some attention; Iwaizumi and bathroom

familiar

hajime iwaizumi x f!reader

The timing has never quite been right for you and Iwaizumi—until a run-in with your ex at a wedding changes everything.

wc: 2.6k

c: 18+ only, best friends to lovers speed run, hurt/comfort, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (f!receiving), cum eating, past infidelity (not iwa)

SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND - PART V

“Tell me what you need.”

Your nostrils burn from the cloying, floral scent that hangs heavily in the air of the oversized bathroom as you sit atop the sink’s white marble countertop, head leaning back against the ornate mirror.

Iwaizumi squeezes your knee when you don’t respond, his callused fingers gently grasping the bare skin exposed by the slit in your dress—if only by consequence, rather than a conscious choice.

“A time machine,” you mutter, voice thick as you blindly reach out for the box of tissues you spotted near the faucet when you walked in.

A hand brushes against yours, followed by the soft press of the thin, white square against the hot, angry tears streaming down your cheeks.

“That’s above my pay grade,” he grumbles, “but I can go punch him if you want.”

You choke out a watery laugh, your fingertips colliding as you take the tissue from him and dab at the corners of your eyes before crumbling it into a ball.

In hindsight, you should have known your ex-fiancé would be at this wedding, given the unfortunate amount of mutual friends that the two of you share. But of all the brash moves, you certainly weren’t expecting him to walk in with the woman he cheated on you with.

You don’t miss him, not really. Not since it became abundantly clear he’d been fucking his personal assistant for most of your relationship. Not since you realized everything you thought you knew about him was a lie.

It’s embarrassment and anger that fuels the remaining tears still threatening to traipse their way down your cheeks now, tears that soak into the new tissue Iwaizumi’s already patiently holding below your eyelashes.

“To be fair, I always wanted to punch him,” Iwaizumi mutters under his breath.

Embarrassment, anger—and regret for the long-buried feelings for your best friend that now stands before you, his brows furrowed in annoyance and concern in equal measure.

It’s always been there between the two of you, this heady, dizzy feeling—charged and humming like the atmosphere on the brink of a rolling thunderstorm.

But the timing’s never been right. Not back then, when relationships and school and sports and jobs were endlessly in the way. And certainly not now, when you shouldn’t even be hidden away crying in this obnoxiously fancy bathroom with Iwaizumi in the first place—not while he’s dating one of the bridesmaids.

He seems to know exactly what you’re thinking, too, because—

“You should probably go find—“

“—we broke up.”

You blink at him several times, caught off guard both by the admission and the unwavering way he’s staring at you now.

Well, you had thought it was odd that you didn’t see them interact at all leading up to the reception.

“Why?”

He inhales slowly before he responds, “She said I was too involved in what’s going on with you.”

A wave of guilt washes over you as you think about how he was the first person you told what happened—in the middle of the night when you got home early from a trip and found your side of the bed occupied.

The way he didn’t even ask before getting into his car and driving across town to pick you up.

The feeling of your fingers desperately clasping the sleeve of his sweatshirt on the sidewalk as you pleaded with him not to storm back into the apartment, the sight of his clenched fists.

The steady, reassuring warmth of his arms around your tired, shaking frame as he held you close against the passenger side door of his car when your trembling fingers couldn’t pull the handle.

You spent that night in his bed, while he insisted on taking the couch. And in the weeks that followed, after you scrambled to find your own place, he hovered. He checked in on you frequently. He brought you food.

He—

It’s not like you can blame his girlfriend—

“So she—”

It’s obvious that Iwaizumi knows you well enough to anticipate your reaction, the way you begin to shrink in on yourself, because his voice is a little rough as he tilts your chin back up to look at him and says, “No, I told her that she could leave if she didn’t like it, because this isn’t going to change.”

Iwaizumi’s gaze has always been a heavy, tangible thing, but it’s particularly difficult to breathe under the weight of it now.

“What’s not going to change?” you ask quietly.

He leans in a little closer, standing between your legs, the inside of your thighs brushing against his hips. “The way I’m always going to put you first, whether I mean to or not.”

“Iwa—”

His eyes fall shut. “I hated when you started calling me that again.”

You’d started using his given name in high school, but the letters went quiet on your tongue in the years after, a forced wedge of distance.

A necessity.

It felt too familiar, more familiar than he should be to you, to your heart.

You didn’t realize how much it bothered him.

“Hajime,” you correct yourself.

A nearly imperceptible shudder runs through him, and when he opens his eyes, they’re filled with an emotion you can’t quite define, not under the duress of your rapidly beating heart.

“Tell me what you need,” he repeats, slowly and deliberately.

You.

It’s always been you.

Your fingers shake slightly as you reach out to grasp his tie, the silk smooth against your palm as you pull him closer.

“Hajime,” you whisper again, so quiet the syllables barely make a sound as they slide over your lips.

His forehead presses against yours, your noses brushing as he rasps, “You know I’d give you anything.”

A hot, heady rush floods your veins, and you press the heels of your feet back into the cabinet of the sink, if only to ground yourself as the honesty in his words scrapes against your ribcage. Releasing his tie, you carefully let your fingers linger against the side of his neck. There’s a sharp inhale of breath as your thumb makes contact with the hinge of his jaw, though Hajime’s own hands remain planted on the countertop.

The sound of your own given name is like a whispered kiss into the space that lingers between your mouths. “Tell me what you want from me.”

Hajime smells like mint gum and that same goddamn body wash he’s been using since high school.

Your heart stumbles as you breathe him in.

“More than you can give,” you admit, voice wavering under the raw honesty of your words.

He laughs, and it’s a low sound of amusement that rumbles in his chest. “I doubt that.”

Heat and anticipation and disbelief swell rapidly in your chest, and it’s enough to find the courage to finally quell the traitorous, steady itch in your fingertips—which seem to be moving of their own volition as they card through Hajime’s soft, dark, messy hair.

He sighs, and it spurs you on further, letting your hand drop to the back of his head to tug at the shorter hair at the nape of his neck. This earns you a groan that dances haphazardly down the notches of your spine.

“Show me what you want, Hajime,” you tell him, swallowing thickly.

It feels disarmingly natural, the way his hands come up to cup your face, the stroke of his thumbs against the curve of your jaw.

He’s so fucking handsome, it hurts.

Turning your face to the side, you press a kiss to the tip of his thumb. “Please.”

Despite all the times you’ve imagined this, all the late nights spent staring at your bedroom ceiling, all of the hopeless scenarios you’ve kept tucked way like a well-worn note tattered to the bone at every groove—every little thing your mind has conjured up pales in comparison to the way Hajime’s lips finally come crashing into yours.

With one hand cupping the back of your head and the other sliding down to curl around your hip, Hajime kisses you like he’s wanted this just as badly as you always have. Like he knows every dip and curve along the shape of your lips.

Like he wants to swallow every last molecule that separates your mouth from his.

It’s all-consuming, the damp heat of his lips, the steady pressure of his thumb against your hip bone, the satisfied groan he lets out as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull yourself against him.

His tongue skirts along the seam of your lips, slipping into your mouth as they part to deepen the kiss, and all of the want and need you’ve kept bottled up inside of you spills out into something hot and messy that scorches its way through your abdomen.

Logically, some part of you knows you should probably talk about this somewhere, anywhere but this ornately fancy single-occupant bathroom during a wedding reception.

But it’s difficult to pin down a single morsel of logic when the sole, unspoken object of your deepest desires is currently wrapping his tongue around yours as the large palm of his hand blazes hot where it’s pressing into the small of your back, the pressure of his fingertips burning through the fabric of your dress.

It’s an accident—the way you rock forward into Hajime when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, the breathy little moan that punches out of you at the feeling of his erection pressing into your hot core.

But it’s not an accident when you do it again, purposefully grinding against him, the arousal simmering inside of you cracking open wide as he kisses you harder, groaning into your mouth. One of his hands makes its way up your side, caressing the swell of your breasts that’s been threatening to spill out of the top of your dress since you slipped it on earlier.

“You have no idea how distracting your dress is,” he growls, though there’s no real heat in the sound, only a desperation that curls around the edges of each word as he tugs the material down enough to expose one of your peaked nipples.

You have half a mind to complain when his lips part from yours, a trail of spit hanging between your mouths for a moment, but it’s a moot point when he leans down to swipe his tongue across the pert, sensitive bud.

“Fuck, Hajime,” you whine, fingers digging into his hair as he gently sucks, shameless in the way you rearrange the skirt of your dress to let the cotton of your panties press directly against the black fabric of his pants.

But it’s still not enough to quell the fire in your veins.

“Hajime,” you whimper again, the sound almost embarrassingly needy as you hump the outline of his hard cock.

Hands grasp your hips, the air conditioning in the room cool against your spit-soaked nipple as he abandons it to press his lips to yours while he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties.

“I need you to tell me what you want,” he murmurs against your mouth. “This stops where you say it stops.”

Fingers trailing along the back of his neck, you run your tongue along his bottom lip, too drunk on your desire to feel shy about the words that push their way past your teeth. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

He lets out a rough groan, taking your tongue into his mouth and sucking on it. Gently, he trails one finger down the length of your damp panties. “Like this?”

You shake your head, reaching a hand between your bodies to clasp his shaft, a fresh stroke of arousal unfurling inside of you at the size of it.

Hajime lets out a gravelly, disbelieving sound. “I don’t have a—”

All it takes is an exchange of breathless, needy reassurances about contraceptives and clean tests to find your panties stuffed in his pocket, the buckle of his belt clinking as he frees his cock from the confines of his pants.

He drags his fingers through your slick, dripping folds as you wrap a hand around his cock, stroking him and keening softly, muscles taut with anticipation as he groans over how wet you are.

“And so fucking sensitive,” he mutters when you tremble and moan in pleasure as he slips a single finger into your cunt, his thumb swiping across your throbbing clit.

He hardly fares any better though when you spit into your palm and resume pumping his curved, leaking shaft, his hips jerking forward into the edges of the countertop.

Hajime must feel how tight you are, must know what a stretch it’ll be to plunge inside of you, because he’s deliberate in the way he adds a second finger, and then a third, working your quivering, wet hole open until you’re panting and whining into his mouth begging for it.

Everything inside of your flares white-hot when he finally sinks his cock into the dripping warmth of your cunt, his lips against yours the only barrier to stifle the full volume of the wanton moan that spills from your mouth as you dig your fingers into his shoulderblades and rock forward until he’s balls deep inside of you. The tight walls of your pussy expand and contract against the thick stretch of his shaft, your legs trembling with pleasure.

You want to writhe on his length.

You want to feel the stretch of it everywhere.

You want him to fuck you so deep you feel it for days.

You want to come so hard on his cock you can’t move or breathe.

It’s inescapable—the full depth of this yawning pit of desire, years of dreams that have left you restless and aching for the one thing you can’t have.

Couldn’t have.

But now—

It takes your fucking breath away, the dichotomy of this moment. The way Hajime’s fucking you so hard, the counter groans with each pounding thrust into your wet cunt. The way he’s tenderly cupping the side of your face and looking at you like he’d give you the goddamn world if you asked for it.

(Having him would be enough.)

You’re so caught up in the moment, heart thrumming in your chest with too many emotions to grasp, you’re hardly prepared when the coil of tension in your gut unravels with the force of a whip, a shockwave of pleasure coursing through you as you go tumbling over the edge of your climax.

“That’s it,” Hajime murmurs as he fucks you through it, fucks you through the messy, desperate kisses you slot against his mouth as you moan and whimper.

You can hardly think straight as your orgasm tapers off, your cunt still greedily taking in every inch of Hajime’s cock as he continues to thrust into you, but when his hips begin to stutter, the words leave you in a rush, “Come inside of me.”

Hajime’s thumb presses into the underside of your chin as he breathes heavily against your mouth, muscles tensing.

“Fuck,” he groans, burying himself to the hilt as his pleasure reaches its peak, his cock pulsing inside of you as ropes of thick, hot cum spill deep in your cunt.

It takes a few minutes for either of you to find the wherewithal to talk, the room quiet save for the sounds of your labored breathing and the soft kisses he presses to the corner of your mouth. To the curve of your jaw. To the bridge of your nose.

Fingers toying with his tie again as he tucks himself back into his pants, you watch as he pointedly does not give you back your underwear, instead pushing the flash of material further down into his pocket.

“Don’t I need tho…” you begin to ask, but you trail off as Hajime leans down and spreads your thighs even further apart before bringing his mouth to your cunt and lapping a broad stroke through the pool of cum leaking from your folds.

560 notes · View notes

ice-echo26 · 24 days ago

Text

"I KNOW IT'S PATHETIC BUT THAT WAS THE GREATEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE"

✦ ── synopsis: coworker!sukuna manages to embarrass himself not once, but twice around you.

✦ ── contents: 2.8k words, fluff, loser!kuna, very suggestive, mild smut.

✦ ── a/n: no words, truly. i just love making sukuna look pathetic.

"I had a lot of fun tonight," you blushed, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear and glancing to your side.

He had his fists shoved into his pockets, eyeing you with a spacey look, like he was contemplating something in his head, something completely unbeknownst to you.

“Sukuna?” You whispered out with a tilt of your head, voice resonating easily in the night air, wondering where he’d gone off to in his mind.

“Mhm?” He hummed dreamily, his vision flickering to your lips for a split second before meeting your eyes.

You giggled, facing the sidewalk and shaking your head. “Nothing.”

He paused a moment, biting his lip and unsure of how to talk to the stunning woman in front of him, who managed to dazzle him all night, without sounding like a fucking loser. “I had fun tonight too,” he shrugged, though you could hear the grin in his tone.

Your head perked up at his response, beaming up at him with glittering eyes, the moonlight illuminating your face and making his heart stutter, enthralled in your effortless beauty. “Really?!”

Sukuna opened his mouth to respond, heart short-circuiting at how excited you’d sounded, before his foot caught on the edge of the sidewalk.

He tripped forward, arms flying out as his other foot slammed down on the concrete, effectively catching his massive form before tumbling.

The action sent a heat washing up the back of his neck, to heat his tan cheeks and even the crowns of his ears.

Your eyes widened, before darting back in front of you, teeth clenching from how hard you were trying to hold back your smile, not daring to address his clumsiness to save him from humiliation.

In all honesty, your cheeks were also aching from how much you’ve been smiling all evening.

You’d known Sukuna for quite some time as he was your colleague at work–a regular and dreary salary job.

But the day it lit up for the both of you, the fire in your eyes snuffed out by the crushing responsibilities on your shoulders thanks to capitalism set ablaze, was the day you stepped into the break room, completely unsuspecting of how you’d be leaving.

It was empty, save for the singular salmon-haired brute hunched over his lunch. He was muttering curses to his phone and you knitted your eyebrows as you meandered towards the coffee machine, your brain muddled from how long you’d been staring at your computer.

It wasn’t your fault your curiosity got the best of you, wondering what had your co-worker so miffed, so you peered over his shoulder sneakily to see him—.

“Oh my god.”

Sukuna could feel his heart stop at the sound of a voice, head flinging behind him as he hadn’t heard you come into the room, too engrossed with whatever was unfolding on his phone.

The guy was watching a porno.

You met his gaze, your cheeks warm at the sight as your pulse quickened. Then peered back at his phone, then back at him, before spinning your head around and staring at the coffee pot. Why was there suddenly barely any coffee? Who decided to drink so much and not brew anymore and force you to endure this?

You could hear his chair screech against the tile floor as he abruptly hopped from his seat, eyes practically bulging from his head in shock.

“H-hold on—“

“I was just leaving,” you starkly interrupted, gripping your hand around your cup and turning quickly.

But Sukuna’s eyes gaped, standing in front of you to halt you, but the scare made you bump into him, effectively pouring hot coffee all over his crisp, white dress shirt.

He winced, a hiss leaving his mouth as he hunched over, hands instinctively flying to his chest before pulling away, nearly singeing his fingers in the act.

You yelped, taking a step back and bumping into the counter, effectively trapping you between him and the makeshift break room kitchen.

He reached for a box of tissues over your head in a frantic manner, you following his movements and eyeing just how his muscles rippled beneath the fabric, before tearing your ogling gaze away.

He patted away at his shirt as you opened your mouth, nearly tripping over your words. “I-if you hadn’t jumped in front of me— I—,” you stopped yourself, realizing how stupid and rude you sounded, watching his face contort into a pained scowl.

Quickly, you bowed your head as deep as you could, clasping your hands around your cup as some sort of grounding exercise to tether you to your embarrassing reality. “I’m really sorry, Sukuna.”

As he wiped at his now-stained shirt, he gave you a once-over, his chest still hot but thankfully not scarred to leave any remnants of a burn except for a temporary red mark.

He felt an odd sense of contrite at your apology, straightening and tossing his tissues into a nearby trash can with one fell swoop in an impressive breeze.

“Nah, uh. Forget it, that was embarrassing as fuck for the both of us, and I’m fine,” he huffed out, rubbing his nape and wanting to punch himself. “But would you let me just… explain what you saw before you run out of here and report me to HR?”

You bit your lip, feeling oddly cornered as his crimson irises bore down on you, searching for resignation, jitters paling you.

If he had an explanation, you had no idea what would cause him to watch pornography in the staff break room.

But he seemed genuine enough, so you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Okay, I’ll, uh, hear you out.”

He nodded, something akin to satisfaction dancing on his ever present indifferent expression before he grunted, pulling a chair out for you.

You sat down, and he sat beside you, pulling out his phone.

You glanced away, nervous your eyes would register anymore of the vulgar scene of a woman being folded into a pretzel by some brute, but Sukuna sighed. “I won’t flash you again.”

You winced, shutting your eyes for a moment to regain your composure, before glancing back down at the table.

He’d set his phone down, opening up his Twitter to some news article he’d been reading about new app regulations.

He even gave you a synopsis of what he’d been reading before handing you the phone and not even peering down at the screen for a second as he relayed its contents to you.

Afterwards, he opened up the replies and, lo and behold, there were a bunch of troll porn accounts spiteful of their crude content being heavily monitored now and posting their videos to flood the comments.

The top comment was the video you’d just seen moments ago.

You grimaced, and averted your gaze. “So why were you muttering under your breath like a madman?”

He quickly swiped out of the app, a look of disgust painting him. “I tried to leave the replies but this fucking ancient ass phone froze from the amount of content in the comments. I didn’t even realize you walked in until too late,” he explained in irritation, no longer meeting your eyes in shame.

You bit your lip, your head dropping as a chuckle left your lips. Then another. And soon enough you had your head tossed back, a boisterous laugh vibrating from your chest.

Sukuna eyed you warily, shifting uncomfortably in his wet and sticky top, an eyebrow cocked at your enjoyment, before he found it hard to conceal the upward tug of his lips.

You looked really pretty laughing.

From that point on, you poked fun at Sukuna and made him endure your teasing to which he was more than miffed at.

And then you’d join him at lunch, talking about whatever was in the news with him and sliding your yogurt over to which he’d end up finishing the entire thing.

Then one day, at the end of your shift where you two began to head out of the doors together, you waved him off goodbye, and Sukuna finally got the burst of courage he’d been waiting on.

He halted you after chasing you down to your bus, standing before you and panting, his tie crooked and gelled hair now pretty disheveled.

Before you could get a word out, eyes wide and curious, he blurted, “Do you want to get dinner sometime? With me?”

You held back the gasp you almost let out in shock, stomach doing at least twenty somersaults in the span of five seconds.

The first time you’d laid eyes on him on your first day at work, you found it easy to recognize how handsome of a man he was.

But you deduced him to the kind of ‘hallway crush’ teenagers would have.

Then, the two of you got to know each other a hell of a lot more despite the horrifying first impression. You saw him as a genuine friend, but that initial attraction only expanded into a crush that always seemed to linger.

You believed him to be far out of your league despite how close you’ve gotten.

So to see him asking you out, had your heart stuttering.

“You mean… on a date?” You queried, still skeptical.

He let out a huff of something akin to laughter, a grin unlike him on his face. “Yeah. I do.”

Goosebumps littered your body, biting your lip as you glanced behind you to see your bus now arriving. “Uhm. Yeah, I’d love that.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, proud of himself for finally securing this.

“Yeah. Text me later?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Which is how you ended up here, a night to remember and him opting to walk twenty minutes back to your apartment instead of an uber like you’d rode there to meet up because it’s ‘eco-friendly’ (since when has Sukuna cared for anything of the sort?) but truthfully, he didn’t want the evening to end.

He was perfectly content to walk the twenty minutes back to his car parked at the restaurant.

Ryomen Sukuna, the brute of a man that seemed annoyed everywhere he went, had taken quite the liking to you and you felt as if you were seeing a drastically different side of someone.

He was thoughtful and perceptive, a plethora of opinions on nearly any topic you could conjure up. But he was also far more attentive than he let on—remembered nearly anything you said even if it was brought up in passing, complimented you under his breath when you arrived, attempting to mask his astonishment but you could see it clear as day in his eyes, asking you if you had any dietary allergies to relay it to the waiter, and ensuring to cover the bill without you even sparing a glance at you.

The entire evening, the conversation flowed easily, as if it was just another afternoon in the breakroom.

He made you laugh, barely concealing just how much of a grand time he was having but the red wine was loosening him up quite a bit.

He asked you questions about yourself and seemed to mentally catalogue them in case he needed them in the future.

Never prodded too much when you steered clear of a topic, just nodding and bringing something else up.

You’d seen the way he acted around colleagues and even his supervisor, never speaking more than a couple words and holing himself up in his cubicle, face pinched with irritation.

But with you, the indifferent man seemed to let go completely.

As if spending time with you was as easy as breathing.

“I’m right up the block,” you commented, watching him mentally curse himself for tripping in front of you. His nerves seemed to be catching up with him.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair and focusing on his gait in case of another slip-up.

Within a matter of seconds, you turned the corner and padded up the steps to your apartment, stopping at the top one and turning around.

This nearly seven foot man stopped just a couple steps below, enough to be at eye level with you.

On any other day, you’d taunt him for his height, or he’d taunt you for yours.

But the air between the two of you was so charged as your eyes darted between each other’s.

You broke the silence. “Let’s do this again,” you whispered, your gaze flickering to his lips before returning to his eyes.

Sukuna could feel the raging boner in his pants only become more sensitive by the second.

He’d been a gentleman with you throughout the course of your friendship, lest he make you any more uncomfortable than he did during your first encounter.

He hummed, tongue running over his lower lip.

You leaned in a fraction, just enough to show initiative, to show that you wanted this like he did, before he took a step up the stairs and cupped your cheeks, lips crashing against yours.

You stumbled backwards, craning your head upwards as your fingers curled in his leather jacket. He wasted no time wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you against him.

He tasted like smoke and the overly expensive wine he’d ordered tonight.

It was breathless, it was heated.

Your lips parted just a bit, and he slid his tongue between, pushing down on your tongue and making you whine.

A guttural hum of satisfaction thrummed in his chest and into your mouth as fireworks sparked in your mind.

He pushed you up against the brick walk of your apartment, cradling your head in his large hand to ensure you didn’t smack it and hurt yourself.

The two of you were too fired up in your first kiss to even care about anyone walking by to see him pinning you right near the entrance.

He knew it wouldn’t go past this, a heated makeout session, that is. He didn’t want it to. He didn’t want to taint what you had right when things were beginning to bubbling with the thought of wetting his dick.

A part of him knew that what went on between the two of you was far deeper than a lustful attraction.

But that desire still existed, still thrummed in the space between logic and need in his mind.

You were on your tiptoes as he hunched forward, feeling as if you couldn’t pull him close enough, a hand of his squeezing your waist against his front. The kiss was desperate, a close to what felt like ages of mutual yearning.

His fingers skimmed through your hair as your noses bumped against each others, swapping saliva like two needy teenagers.

But it was far better than any kind of first kiss you’d experienced. There was no room for awkward tension like most went–the two of you had practically destroyed the blurs of worry with your overwhelming want.

Your body was sparked alight, as if you’d been asleep for ages and it was his one kiss to wake you from a dull dream. Everything melted away, fingers tugging him closer, feeling your skirt hike up as your thighs rubbed together.

And what left your lips sent the man against your lips over the precipice.

“‘Kuna,” you whined out breathily, fanning over his kiss bitten lips.

The man broke the kiss immediately, face scrunching up as he stuttered out your name headily with a hoarse “F-fuck,” his head craning forward as his lashes fluttered shut.

Your eyes widened, slowly settling back against your heels as he slammed a hand against the brick wall.

A wave of surprise had you paled, gaze drifting down to his black dress pants to see a damp spot where his crotch is.

“D-did you just-?“ You stopped yourself, mouth parting at the realization, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Sukuna couldn’t get himself out of this one, he knew it. His gaze darted between your appalled expression and the mess he’d somehow made on himself.

And it was all because of that damn nickname.

He’d never heard you use it before, and you hadn’t dared tested it out, an idea that tickled the edges of your love-sick brain. But in your horny reverie, any sense of rationality had left you succumbed to your lust.

To Sukuna, it was so fucking adorable. And so fucking hot.

But how did he explain that you whimpering his nickname had him orgasming prematurely in his pants.

“I- uh,” he stumbled backwards, nearly tripping as he moved away from you. “I’ll see you around.”

With that, the massive man hastened his pace and shuffled down the steps, practically sprinting down the sidewalk and out of your view.

You stood there, completely dumbfounded, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of endearment.

You hadn’t known just how bewitched Sukuna was with you until now.

Sukuna didn’t know how long he sprinted down the main street to rid himself of his mortification prickling his skin like needles.

But what was far worse, was he had no idea how he would manage to face you at work tomorrow morning.

1K notes · View notes

ice-echo26 · 27 days ago

Text

your arms are reaching / your eager heart is throbbing

k. bakugou, s. todoroki, i. midoriya x f! reader

how he reacts after learning his pretty girl struggles to get orgasms ꕥ smut 18+, timeskip characters, please read responsibly.

for the girls (like yours truly) who unfortunately struggle with this. don’t worry! communication! you deserve to cum!!!

song: couldn’t make it any harder

katsuki bakugou

- as everyone already knows, he will take any sort of test or opposition and stomp it into the ground. he’s the best, the greatest. not only is this another chance to prove how infuriatingly talented it is, but a chance to get you screaming his name and aching for him.

- the very first time he goes down on you, he’s so cocky and sure he’ll make you feel amazing. he lifts his head from your thighs and finds your face hasn’t moved an inch. “you gonna cum?” “uhm… no.” “WHAT!?”

- once you explain it to him, he’s seeing it as a challenge

- he finds communication so sexy. though 90% of the time he seems like a jackass who never listens, he’s far more perceptive than anyone could imagine. he learns not only your words but your body, the signs that you’re enjoying it or when you’re loosening up to him. as much as it is a fun challenge for him, his determination proliferates once he sees the frustrated tears boil over in your eyes.

- “calm down, babe. i’ve got you.”

he’s laying behind you, sideways on the bed while one strong arm lifts your leg up. his cock slowly pistons in and out of your pussy at a tortuous pace, his free hand rubbing circles on your clit while he has you feeling every inch of him. he’s fingered you for close to an hour before finally deciding you were wet enough to take him, all of him.

“hows this?” his voice is gruff in your ear. you know, by the scratch in his throat, that holding back is killing him. that if it were up to him, he’s have your face in the pillows wrecking your insides. but this isn’t about him. its about you, making your brain melt and toes curl from pleasure.

theres a hot coil in your stomach, about to snap at any moment. your nails dig into the sheets, clinging to anything, knowing that it could be his back you’re scratching up. you want to tell him to let go, to start fucking you rough and passionate the way he has always been, but you also know that this is the longest and most potent pleasure session you’ve had in a long time. you feel yourself gushing around his cocks, sucking him in greedily. you’re buzzing, body warm with satisfaction but a lingering need to feel him ravage you.

“you can go faster.” you grit your teeth, looking back at him over shoulder. he shifts to move on top of you, placing a kiss to your cheek and forehead before reinserting himself with little resistance. your legs wrap around his legs like a magnet, whatever was left of them not reduced to jelly.

“you sure?” red eyes glint with a flicker of momentary doubt. he knows you feel good, but he’s determined to make you feel amazing. “tell me what you like, baby.”

he begins moving his hips again, faster this time, and your back arcs like the london bridge.

“like that!” you’re quick to savour it, and he fucking smirks. he feels you cumming around him, an sweet, blissful orgasm tearing through you like a bullet through paper. but he doesn’t stop, fucking you through it and promising 3 mode.

“whatever you want, baby.”

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

shouto todoroki

- maybe its because he knows a thing or two about the absence of love and genuineness in places it should exist, but he tends to know when you lie. especially if its to protect his feelings in the form of forced moans or highs.

- he’s only began fingering you, noticing that your moans are off, and he’ll immediately withdraw. he’ll blink, confused, before returning to his normal, blunt self: “you don’t like it, darling?”

- he’ll stare, gears turning in his head while you ramble to come up with an answer. he’s difficult to lie to, seeing the way he tilts his head like a god damn puppy when he knows something is amiss.

- after you finally tell him, he’s silent for a few moments right before: “well, why didn’t you say so?”

- “i didn’t want to be difficult.”

- “it’s difficult to not love you.”

shouto has stamina, thats a no brainer. he’s been trained since day 1 to endure most things. so staying on his knees, head buried between your thighs isn’t exactly hard for him.

one of your legs stays hooked over his shoulder while the other is pinned down by his hand. you can’t remember the last time he’s actually lifted his head to breathe. he’d find a new way to take in oxygen if it meant keeping you pink and needy for him, the way he has you know.

his tongue moves in a messy pattern, swirling around and in between your slit before his lips move up to that delicate bundle of nerves, wrapping around the bud and sucking all the sweet nectar. his eyes are closed, a sort of meditation for him while you melt into the sheets.

“shouto!” his name comes out like a mantra. he wants to smile, to respond, but his lips are preoccupied with spelling out each japanese logographic character on your pussy.

so instead, he smiles mentally while moving his head up and down. you’ve never actually squirted before, but you were pretty confident this would be the day.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

izuku midoriya

- izuku possesses endless patience that extends with both his arms for you. he has only ever wanted to put a smile on your face, even if that smile is sometimes an o shape and eyes rolling back.

- he is incredibly understanding, not a trace of judgement in those green eyes. he’ll simply hold your hand, with all the respect and the world, and say: “let me help you, baby.”

- that gentleness is thrown at the window as he morphs into a complete demon, pounding into you with such force you’re sure you’ll break the bed.

“fuck! izuku! shit, uhm- you’re going so fast!” you blurt out, holding his back for stability. he’s bullying your pussy with his cock, reasoning that if he was going to make you cum, he’d do it right.

“i’ve got you, love.” he mutters into your ear, lip wrapping around your nipple while his squeezes your other tit. his pace doesn’t dare slow down, stars bursting behind your eyelids as every inch of him sends shivers of pleasure down your body. he somehow still manages to whisper the most tooth-rotting sweet nothings into your ear while he single handedly orchestrates that delicious skin slapping noise.

his pelvis rubbed against your already sensitive clit, your pussy glistening with sticky juices that he salivates just thinking about. if he wasn’t fucking you with his cock, it’d be with his mouth.

he cups your face with one hand, groaning as you squeeze even tighter. “you gonna cum, sweetheart?” unable to speak, you nod profusely. he fucks you through countless more through the rest of the night.

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ice-echo26 · 1 month ago

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Gooner art 🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️

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ice-echo26 · 1 month ago

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ice-echo26 · 1 month ago

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It occurred to me I have never drawn them actually kissing on the mouth, so of course I had to fix that and then one up it.

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ice-echo26 · 1 month ago

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ok this right here is lowk just straight smut i’m gonna keep it a buck.. uhhh it goes w this ask and is atsumu miya paired with control by pnd

you see him before he sees you. which is rare.

he’s standing at the edge of the kitchen, drink in hand, dressed like some half-assed version of woody from toy story. flannel rolled to his elbows, hat tipped back on his head, jeans slung low on his hips. stupid sheriff badge pinned to his chest like it means something.

he’s talking to someone, laughing like it’s casual. but then his eyes drag over the crowd and stop.

on you.

the music’s loud, bass-heavy, but his stare hits sharper than the beat. it rakes over your bare thighs, your high-cut denim shorts, the knotted gingham top that doesn’t even pretend to close.

his eyes stick to your cleavage. then your mouth. then back to your thighs like he’s counting the ways he could ruin you tonight.

you don’t flinch. you just sip slow from your solo cup and tip your little cowgirl hat low.

you’re leaning against the fridge.

he walks right up.

“well, would ya look at that,” he drawls, lips twitching. “what a coincidence.”

you glance up at him, calm, unimpressed. “is it really?”

he lets out a soft laugh. the kind that says he’s not sure if you’re gonna kiss him or kick him in the shin.

he likes it.

“you wear that just for me, darlin’?” he teases, voice low as he leans in closer.

“sure,” you say. “you and every other man with two eyes and poor impulse control.”

his grin widens. “thought i was the only one ridin’ tonight.”

you raise your eyebrow.

he smirks. “y’know… save a horse…”

“finish that sentence,” you murmur, “and i’ll walk away right now.”

he laughs, full and real this time, but you see the way his fingers flex like he wants to grab your hips. he almost expects you to tell him no. again. to make him wait. again.

but you just push off the fridge, shrugging like it’s nothing. “alrighty, cowboy lead the way.”

he blinks. stares. then turns to lead you out—and you slap his ass on the way.

he whips around, eyes narrowed. “you got a death wish?”

you just laugh. “you walk too slow.”

…

the air outside is crisp, almost too crisp for what you’re wearing. the bare skin of your thighs prickles with goosebumps, but you don’t show it. the fog machine smoke clings low to the sidewalk, swirling around your boots with every step.

his are heavier beside you, longer stride slowed to match yours, jacket unzipped, fists flexing in and out of his pockets like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

you’re quiet for a beat.

then he lets out a sharp exhale through his nose. dry. deliberate.

“so kyotani and suna, huh?”

you freeze mid-step, then laugh—hard and unbothered, head tipping back just a little as you turn to look at him. “oh my god. that’s what this is about?”

he doesn’t stop walking, but he does glance at you sideways. eyes narrowed. jaw tight. tongue pressed into his cheek like he’s chewing on a bitter taste.

you’re still laughing. still amused. “you jealous?”

he snorts, scoffs—too quick. “no.”

but it’s the kind of no that cracks at the edges. the kind that means absolutely yes.

you just raise your eyebrows, all mock sympathy. “aw, cowboy. you mad they got to fuck me?”

he scoffs again, louder this time. “you think too highly of yourself.”

you shrug. “maybe, maybe not.”

he stops just shy of a streetlamp, turns to face you fully. the shadows carve out his jaw, cut across his throat. he doesn’t say anything for a second. just looks at you.

“you know what’s funny?” he says finally, voice low. “you act like that shit even means anything to me. like i ain’t had enough groupies tryin’ to get olympic babies outta me to last me a lifetime.”

you blink. lips part in amused surprise. “olympic babies?”

“don’t act like you ain’t heard the rumors.”

you smirk. “so what, you’re the victim now? poor atsumu, drowning in pussy?”

he rolls his eyes. “it’s not about that.”

you hum, still watching him like you know something he doesn’t. “so what is it about?”

he doesn’t answer.

just clenches his jaw again. looks away like the street’s more interesting than your mouth.

but you don’t press. you just smile, slow, dangerous, and keep walking, hips swaying like you know exactly how hard he’s staring.

and he follows. jaw tight, steps tense, still thinking about the fact that you laughed. still thinking about the fact that he’s not the only one who’s had you like that.

and that no matter how much he wants to believe otherwise; you’re still the only one who’s ever truly had him.

…

the car ride’s short. quiet. too quiet.

the kind of quiet that wraps itself around you like static. no small talk. no filler. just the sound of your breath and the soft creak of leather beneath you when you shift in your seat.

the engine hums low. then the bluetooth connects, and control by partynextdoor melts into the speakers like heat poured over bare skin. the bass rolls in steady, thick. the vocals hit smooth and muted, like they’re echoing from underwater.

you exhale through your nose, eyes fixed on the windshield. the city lights blur past in amber streaks, puddles catching reflections like spilled neon.

you’re sitting back, thighs crossed. your body’s buzzing like it hasn’t stopped since the party.

then his hand moves.

not suddenly. not fast. just… deliberate.

his palm slides onto your thigh, broad, warm, familiar. fingers splay slow over your skin, pinky grazing the inside where your legs meet. he doesn’t grip. just rests there.

but it’s the weight of it. the intent.

you glance over at him.

he doesn’t say a word. doesn’t look at you. just keeps his eyes on the road, jaw tight, mouth set, brow low.

but his thumb moves once. a soft, absent stroke against your inner thigh. like he’s thinking about what’s under the denim. like he’s remembering.

you shift slightly. just enough to press into him.

still, he says nothing. but the song keeps playing. and the lyrics float in the air like something cruel and true.

you swallow hard. but neither of you turns it off. neither of you moves away.

his hand stays. hot. still. waiting.

and the silence fills with everything he wants to do to you.

…

he lives just off campus: small apartment, warm lights glowing from a single window.

you both walk up the stairs. and as he unlocks the door, you wave lazily at meian, who’s sitting on the couch watching the game.

meian lifts a brow. takes in the costumes. says nothing.

…

the door clicks shut behind you.

then the lock turns—loud, final. you barely have time to register the sound before he’s on you.

his body crowds yours, heat rolling off him like it’s been simmering all night. his hands come up fast, sliding under the edge of your shirt, gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear again.

and then, his mouth.

it crashes into yours, hot, hungry, desperate. not careful. not sweet. just need.

his hips press into yours, pinning your back to the wall. you can feel every line of him. hard muscle. hard dick. harder tension.

he kisses like he’s been waiting for years. like he’s been losing sleep over the fact that he doesn’t get to do this whenever he wants.

you let him. for a second. just long enough to taste the frustration on his tongue.

then you plant a hand flat on his chest and shove.

not rough. not harsh. just… enough.

he stumbles half a step back, breathing heavy. his hands are still on your waist, but looser now. like he’s trying to hold onto something without breaking it.

your eyes narrow. your voice calm. “what are you doing?”

he doesn’t answer at first. just stares at you, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling like he just ran a mile. his lips part.

“can ya just—” he cuts himself off. runs a hand through his hair. jaw tightens again. he won’t look you in the eyes. not at first. then, “can ya just let me take control for one damn night?”

his voice is hoarse. quiet. like it costs him to say it.

you don’t move. you just watch him.

he’s still close, close enough to feel the heat coming off his skin, the way his muscles twitch under his shirt, like his whole body is screaming to move again.

“please,” he says. softer now. his fingers twitch against your waist. “just tonight. lemme take the lead.”

you tilt your head. “since when do you ask?”

he huffs, frustrated. his eyes finally meet yours. “since you’re the only one i never have control with.”

your breath catches. just slightly. but he sees it, and he leans in, slower this time. like he doesn’t want to spook you. like he’s waiting for the leash to drop from your hand.

you glance down, his hands still hovering, your shirt slightly wrinkled from where he grabbed, your heartbeat hammering hard enough to hear in your ears. you look back up.

“…okay,” you say, voice low. breath shallow. you nod once. steady. “go ahead, cowboy.”

his lips part. eyes flicker with something dangerous. then he moves, and this time, you don’t stop him.

he doesn’t hesitate, but his hands are careful this time. still greedy, still hungry, but slower now, like he knows he’s been granted a privilege and plans to savor every second.

his palms slide along your waist, thumbs brushing the bare skin just above your waistband. he pulls you in, slow, steady, until your chest is flush to his and your breath is caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat.

his lips find yours again, less frantic, more firm. like he’s reclaiming something. like he’s putting his name back on you with every press of his mouth. his kiss deepens, and you let him lead, your fingers curled in the collar of his flannel, mouth parting under the weight of his want.

he kisses you like he means it. like he remembers every time he didn’t get to. his teeth graze your bottom lip, tug once, and then he kisses the corner of your mouth, the edge of your jaw, trailing heat in a slow path down your neck.

his tongue flicks over your pulse. hot. wet. his lips seal against your throat in a kiss that lingers a little too long.

then he sucks.

you gasp. your head tips back, spine arching subtly to give him more.

he hums, low, pleased. and then he bites. soft, sharp enough to make you twitch.

his hands are moving again, skimming down your sides. slow. reverent. he touches like he’s afraid you’ll vanish, like this might be the only night he gets to own you the way he’s dreamed about since you first let him fuck you years ago and then told him it didn’t mean anything.

his fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts. he pulls them down just slightly, just enough to let his hand slide inside.

he groans.

his breath stutters hard, like the heat of you short-circuits his entire brain.

“fuck—” his voice is thick. gravel-soft.

his palm cups you through your underwear, the fabric damp beneath his fingers. his thumb strokes slow. not rough. not rushed. just… intentional. circular. teasing. your body leans into his without thinking.

“already wet?” he murmurs at your ear. his lips graze the shell of it. you feel the smirk in his voice. “haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

you gasp again, quieter this time, more breath than sound, and your fingers tangle in his hair, tug once. not to stop him. just because you need to hold on to something.

his tongue flicks your throat. then again. and again.

he licks like he wants to taste the way your pulse jumps when he touches you. like he wants to memorize it. like it means something.

he presses a little harder between your legs, palm grinding, middle finger rubbing the soaked cotton with maddening rhythm.

your hips rock into him, helpless, desperate for friction. his free hand wraps around your waist, pulling you closer, anchoring you against his thigh.

“you feel that?” he whispers, breath hot. “fuckin’ soaked. all for me.”

and when you moan, quiet, head tipped back, breath caught between yes and more, he doesn’t stop.

he leans in again, lips brushing your jaw.

“this ain’t even the start, sweetheart.” his voice is a promise. his fingers move slower, but deeper. more pressure. “you’re gonna let go for me tonight.”

he kisses your collarbone, tongue dragging downwards.

your back hits the door again with a soft thud. his hands are on your thighs, rough and steady, one gripping the back of your knee, lifting it slow until it hooks over his shoulder.

your heel digs into his back. your arms stretch out, bracing against the door, palm flattened over the cold metal of the handle. the other hand clutches for something, anything—his shoulder, his hair, the fabric of his shirt, fingers curling, slipping, clutching again.

he breathes hot against your inner thigh, lips dragging up, tongue flattening against the pulse there like he’s just getting his bearings. he’s not in a rush. he wants you shaking before his mouth even touches you.

and you are.

he nuzzles close. nose brushing the damp fabric of your underwear, inhaling deep. you jerk at the feel of his breath, already whimpering.

“mm,” he hums, low and fucking pleased, pressing a single kiss right against the wet cotton. “you ready?”

you nod, desperate.

but he just grins. “nah, i wanna hear it.”

“yes,” you whisper. “please.”

he doesn’t wait.

his fingers hook under the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down, slow, warm palms grazing your thighs as he lowers them to your knees, then lets them fall the rest of the way.

your leg’s still over his shoulder. you’re bare.

and then—

his tongue licks a single, flat stripe up your slit.

you gasp. your hips jerk forward and he groans against you like it tastes as good as it sounds.

he settles in deep, tongue swirling, lips wrapping around your clit like he’s trying to drink you down. his grip on your thigh tightens. he anchors you, holds you steady as your knees start to tremble.

you’re already moaning, already rocking your hips into his mouth.

he licks like he knows you. like this isn’t the first time he’s had you like this, just the first time you’ve let him give it all. he teases, flicks, then sucks slow and deep, long enough that your whole body tenses.

your fingers scrape at the door. your heel digs into his back harder.

“fuck—fuck, ’tsumu—”

your head falls back. your breath catches. your thighs are twitching, stomach clenching tight as heat coils deep in your core.

he moans against you, and you feel it vibrate right through your clit. your hand slams against the door handle. your hips jump.

“oh my god. i’m—fuck, don’t stop—”

and then it’s happening.

your orgasm crashes over you, fast and all-consuming, your leg spasms over his shoulder, the other nearly gives out, and you’re barely holding yourself upright, hand gripping the door like it’s the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

you cry out. not quiet. not soft.

“atsumu, what the fuck—” your hips buck once, twice—body jolting with each wave.

but he doesn’t let up. his tongue keeps moving. slow, deep, cruel circles. he’s overstimulating you, and it’s unbearable in the best fucking way.

your leg tries to drop, foot slipping off his shoulder, but he catches you.

he shifts, strong arms locking under your thighs. and suddenly you’re in the air.

you let out a panicked yelp, your body jerking as he hoists you up fully, flush against his mouth now, his arms locked tight around your thighs, holding you up like it’s nothing.

“oh my god atsumu—” you stutter, legs shaking, hands flying to his hair, his shoulders, something, “put me the fuck—”

but you’re whining through it. your breath’s coming in desperate gasps.

you’re soaked, and he’s fucking feasting, tongue flat and wide, then pointed and insistent, lapping up everything like he can’t get enough.

your whole body is trembling in his grip. you can’t even think.

he growls into you and you sob his name again, and then he finally lowers you. he kneels, smooth, controlled, still holding you, and lays you flat on the bed.

on your back. spread open.

you try to close your thighs but his shoulders are between them before you can move. he locks you in place, palms planted on either side of your hips.

and then he dives back in.

his tongue flicks your clit, fast, ruthless. he sucks. kisses. sucks again.

your back arches completely off the bed. you throw your head back, crying out. your fingers twist into the blanket beneath you, yanking it down until it’s half off the mattress.

“i can’t—”

your thighs clench hard around his head. your toes curl. your stomach contracts and you whimper so loud it echoes.

“please ‘tsumu i can’t take it anymore—”

he pulls back with a soft pop: chin slick. lips shining. his eyes are dark. smiling. glinting like he loved every second of that.

he grins hard as hell. “you taste so fuckin’ good.”

you whimper, legs still shaking, chest heaving. his fingers ghost along the outside, light as air, tracing the tremble in your muscles, the way you’re still twitching from everything he just dragged out of you.

and when he says, low and hungry, “i could go again…”

you clench around nothing and slam your thighs shut like a reflex.

he sees it. he laughs. big. deep. smug.

“oh, you scared now?” he teases, voice breathless but wicked. “thought you were the one in control?”

you can’t even speak. you’re still laid out, lips parted, trying to breathe through the overstimulation.

he crawls up the bed, palms dragging up your thighs, and you already know he’s not done. not even close.

you barely catch your breath, chest still rising and falling fast, skin hot and slick, before he’s standing at the foot of the bed, undoing his belt with one hand, gaze fixed on you like he already knows how you’re going to look begging underneath him.

his shirt’s still on. that ridiculous flannel half-tucked into his waistband, sleeves rolled tight over his forearms, sheriff badge hanging crooked.

the cowboy hat hasn’t moved. he doesn’t even bother taking it off.

just kicks off his jeans, cock thick and flushed, springing up proud and heavy, already leaking. and you know for a fact he’s been like this since the kitchen.

you watch through hazy lashes as he climbs onto the bed. you’re still there, legs weak, trembling. he grabs you by the waist, hands big, confident, and lifts you, settling you into his lap, back pressed to his chest, body folding soft into his.

his thighs are under yours, his arms wrapped tight around your middle. your legs fall open over his, wide. he adjusts you once. twice.

and in front of you: the mirror. it’s angled perfectly at the foot of his bed.

you see all of it. your body. his. the sheen on your thighs. the red marks blooming across your neck. your mouth, parted, slick from moaning his name too many times. you look wrecked.

he groans behind you. “look.” his voice drops, dark, rough. “you see that?”

he reaches over, grabs his hat off the floor, the one that must’ve fallen when you were arching up against his face like it was the only place you could survive, and he sets it gently on your head.

your breath catches.

the image in the mirror is obscene.

you, half-naked, limp and open in his lap, thighs spread wide over his, skin shining, eyes dazed, and him, right behind you. flushed, smirking, cock in hand.

you look like a prize he just won. and also like a trophy he’s about to destroy.

you open your mouth to say something, anything—but then he slides in.

slow. deep.

your body arches instantly, back pulling away from his chest as your mouth drops open in a silent gasp.

he stretches you so perfectly, like he fits nowhere else but inside you.

you let out a low, broken whimper. “fuck atsumu—”

he lets out a low, feral laugh. breath tickling your ear, his teeth brushing your jaw. “that’s more like it.”

he holds you by the hips, still rocking into you with slow, controlled thrusts. his arms lock you in place as your legs shake over his.

you’re trying to sit upright, trying to match his rhythm, but your body’s jelly. melted and wrecked from his mouth, from everything.

your back arches again, instinctively chasing more. your head tips back to his shoulder, hat tilting, slipping down a little as his pace begins to build, just slightly. enough to make you feel it.

his hands move. one slides up your stomach, between your breasts, the other dips low between your thighs.

and then—pressure.

he starts rubbing your clit, slow little circles, matching the drag of his cock.

you twitch instantly. you sob.

“that’s it,” he murmurs. “ride me, pretty girl. show me how much you like losin’ it.”

your hands grab at his thighs, at his arms, anything to ground yourself. your body rolls helplessly into his, into his cock, into that damn hand—

and then you break again.

your whole body snaps tight, legs jerking, thighs clenching, jaw falling open in a scream you don’t even try to muffle.

your vision goes white, just like that. like lightning behind your eyes. like your body’s forgetting how to breathe.

your muscles seize, then melt. your hips drop, twitching, stuttering against him. you gasp so loud it catches in your throat and turns into a hiccuped sob. your eyes squeeze shut, lashes damp with sweat, and the tears that had been clinging to the corners finally spill.

he groans. low and strained, like he’s trying not to lose it.

“fuck, look at you,” he breathes, voice all grit and heat and reverence. “so fuckin’ perfect.”

he’s still inside you, still dragging, still stretching you full, and the friction now is too much. dizzying. cruel. you can’t stop shaking.

you try to lift your hips off him, just enough to get a break, just enough to catch your breath, but his hand’s at your waist. his strength is patient, firm. he doesn’t let you run.

“nah, baby. you take it.” his lips brush your shoulder. “you’re takin’ all of it.”

your mouth falls open again, and no sound comes out this time. just a whimper. a ruined little breath.

he grinds into you deeper. slow, deep strokes, angled perfect, dragging along your walls like he owns them.

and maybe he does. maybe he always has.

you can tell he’s making a point now: you’re the one unraveling. you’re the one losing control.

and he’s still not done.

your body gives out again, limp and folded and glowing under his hands. your pussy clenches down on him, fluttering hard, too sensitive, too tight, soaking wet from everything he’s already pulled out of you.

and still, he fucks into it. fuck, he thrives in it.

his hand comes up again, palm cupping your jaw, fingers curled up under your cheek, and tilts your face towards the mirror in front of you. you can barely focus. your lashes flicker, your vision still white-hot at the edges.

“look at you,” he says, voice rasped out, barely there.

you do—barely.

and that’s when he cums.

with a groan punched out of his chest, deep and rough and desperate, he snaps his hips up once, twice, and spills inside you. hot and thick. your whole body feels it, every pulse, every throb. he’s still holding your face. still breathing hard against your skin. his other arm’s locked around your waist.

you feel so full it aches.

but you don’t move. can’t. you’re spent. raw. stretched out and soft.

he kisses your temple, whispers, “still with me?” and you nod. barely.

your legs are trembling, chest heaving, head still slumped against his shoulder when he eventually lifts you, slow, careful, like you’re something precious and fragile despite the filth he’s just dragged out of you.

your breath catches in your throat when he shifts. he presses a kiss to your shoulder, then the space behind your ear as he lays you back, your spine meeting the mattress, legs falling open without resistance, body boneless.

he hovers above you, arms caging you in, flushed and wrecked, jaw clenched like he’s holding back something fierce.

“gonna go slow now,” he murmurs, voice ragged. “promise.”

you nod weakly, eyes glazed. you don’t even realize your hands are already reaching, grabbing his arms, clutching his shoulders, pulling him closer before you can think about it.

his hips roll forward, deep, steady, and you gasp, soft and stunned.

he slides in like he belongs there. you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, as close as he’ll go. your heels press into his lower back, holding him in place.

his rhythm is devastating.

slow, sure, perfectly angled. he rolls his hips like he’s studying your reactions. every thrust makes your eyes flutter. every drag of his cock sends a whimper spilling from your lips.

you tilt your head, exposing your throat, and he takes it, takes all of you. his lips press to your jaw, then your cheek, then down to your neck. he kisses softly, sweetly, almost worshipful.

“you feel so fuckin’ good,” he whispers, breath warm against your skin. “been dreamin’ about this. ‘bout you. how you sound. how you look when you cum.”

his voice hitches. “fuck, baby, you’re bein’ so good for me.”

you shudder. you dig your nails into his back, leave red lines down his shoulder blades.

he thrusts again, deep, all the way in, hips snug to yours, and you moan, open-mouthed, breath punched straight out of you.

“that’s it,” he pants. “lemme feel you.”

your body’s a trembling mess, legs quaking, chest heaving, soaking the sheets beneath you, and all you can do is cling to him, forehead pressed to his shoulder as your throat works around a breath that just won’t come. he holds you like he’s afraid you’ll slip right through his fingers, even though he’s still inside you, still hard, still thick and pulsing and unbearably deep.

and then he pulls out.

you gasp, like the air’s been yanked from your lungs.

and then—nothing.

no friction. no stretch. just that throbbing ache between your legs where he should be.

“atsumu—”

“nah,” he murmurs. “not yet.”

he kisses your temple. he hovers over you, dark-eyed and flushed and grinning like a devil.

“you’re gonna give it to me first,” he says softly, dragging the head of his cock through your folds, hot, wet, too close. “wanna hear you say it like you mean it.”

you choke out a half-sob, half-laugh. “atsumu, please.”

his hips flex forward, just enough for the tip to nudge your entrance. not even the stretch, just the tease. your walls pulse open to nothing, begging for relief.

you arch up, chasing him, thighs clenching. and he pulls back again.

you groan, raw, throaty. your hands fist the sheets beside your head.

“don’t be stubborn,” he murmurs, leaning in, breath hot against your cheek. “say it.”

“fuck,” you hiss, panting hard. “i need it—i need you, please—”

his mouth curves up against your jaw. “say the words.”

“atsumu, please, i’m gonna fucking kill you, i swear to god—”

he presses in again, just a few inches, slow and aching and deep enough to make your vision blur—

and stops.

you cry out. no dignity left. no fight.

“you’re the best dick i’ve ever had,” you gasp, voice cracking. “n-no one else even comes close, please—i need you to fuck me—”

he hums like he’s pleased. like he just heard a prayer whispered straight to heaven. “that’s more like it.”

and then he gives it to you.

brutal. bone-deep. your thighs twitch. your belly tightens. the tension’s insane, coiling like a wire behind your ribs.

and he keeps going.

faster now. deeper. until your back arches off the bed and your mouth falls open around something that isn’t quite a word.

and just when it’s too much, just when the burn becomes unbearable, the kind that makes your vision blur and your body lock up and your toes curl—

that’s when you break.

your mouth falls open. your whole body snaps. every nerve lights up like lightning under your skin, that thin edge of pleasure you’d been dancing along shattering under the weight of his cock slamming into you, filling you perfectly, just right.

you cum so hard it hurts.

your body locks up, vision going white, breath caught somewhere in your throat as you scream, raw and shameless, chest arched and hips stuttering into his. the orgasm rolls through you slow and sharp and endless, like the air itself is vibrating.

your legs clamp around him. your arms drag him down. you can’t stop. you can’t breathe.

he fucks you through every second of it, whispering through gritted teeth, “that’s it. so good for me. so fuckin’ good.”

you barely hear him. your mind’s gone blank.

and then, just as your body starts to go limp, slick and twitching, he pulls out with a harsh grunt, strokes himself once. twice.

and then he’s spilling across your stomach, hot, heavy, thick ropes that paint your skin while he moans your name like a confession, like a curse.

his breath shudders. his arms tremble.

then he collapses beside you, spent and flushed, chest rising hard as he tosses one arm over his forehead like he’s been through war. the other drags lazily through the mess he left on your stomach, smearing a line of cum across your skin just to see it.

your body’s not even yours anymore. you’re limp, ruined, still blinking at the ceiling like you can’t believe what just happened.

“what the fuck was that,” you whisper.

he turns his head toward you, grinning like he’s never been more proud of anything in his life.

“you liked it?”

you don’t even answer. you just grunt, barely lifting a hand to weakly swat at him, too far gone to form words. your chest is still heaving. sweat slicks your ribs. you feel everything, and nothing, and too much.

and he knows. he fucking knows.

the way he smiles, soft, smug, eyes half-lidded and glowing with satisfaction—it’s like he just claimed you. like he won something he wasn’t even supposed to have.

then, “round three?”

you groan, loud and wounded, shoving at his chest with the strength of a dying animal. “oh hell no.”

he laughs. bright, wicked. leans down to kiss your cheek like he didn’t just practically threaten your life.

“we’ll see.”

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