disgraceful-writings

[disgraceful-writings]

I may or may not be cooking something along the lines of princess reader and Aemond. No promises.

[disgraceful-writings]

the room reeked of sweat and sex. curtains drawn, clothes abandoned, and shigaraki deep inside you, pounding away like his life depended on it.

your cheek was pressed to the mattress, ass up, legs trembling as he drilled into you from behind with a reckless, panting rhythm. each slap of his hips echoed sharp through the room, his fingers locked tight on your hips. red marks already blooming beneath his grip.

“f-fuck,” he gasped, cracking, “so—so tight—fuck, you’re perfect—”

his pace stuttered for a second. then got worse. rougher and sloppier.

“can’t—can’t stop,” he whimpered, fucking you harder, dragging his nails down your back like a starving man. “can’t get enough of you—i can’t—shit��you’re gonna break me—”

you cried out when he slammed in deep, grinding his cock against your cervix while leaning over your back, teeth scraping your shoulder.

“i need this,” he whispered, desperate. “need you like this. bent over for me—fuckin’—mine. you hear me?”

you moaned something that might’ve been “yes,” but shigaraki didn’t wait for answers. he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled, making you arch tighter, open wider for him.

“you take it so good,” he growled, licking sweat off your neck. “greedy fuckin’ hole—fuck—i’m losing my mind—”

and oh, he was. his rhythm went erratic. his hips jerking, thighs trembling, voice breaking into little high, wrecked whimpers.

“gonna cum—can i—fuck—can i cum inside? please—please—let me fill you—need to feel you drip—”

and you just moaned, backing into him like you needed it too. that’s all it took as he snapped. with a snarl and a cracked moan of your name, shigaraki buried himself to the hilt and came, cock twitching, spilling deep inside you as his whole body shuddered.

but he didn’t stop. he kept moving inside you deep and slow. still panting, still whimpering, still hungry.

“i can go again,” he whispered, cock still hard inside you. “gonna ruin this pussy. gonna stay right here. stuff you full all night.”

and you? you let him.

[disgraceful-writings]

when you listen to a song and it gives you inspiration to daydream an answer to the plot hole in the story building inside your head

[disgraceful-writings]

Ridin’ Double

AO3: ARTHUR MORGAN X FEMALE READER, smut. 1.2k+ words. mdni

YOU are not sure when it started—the tension, that is. Maybe back at camp, when Arthur offered to ride with you to check the traps out by the ridge. Or maybe earlier, when you’d caught him watching you, that unreadable look on his face again. Like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss you or run.

But now, sitting in front of him on his horse, you can’t ignore it. You’d felt it the second he settled behind you, arms on either side of your body, one hand on the reins, the other resting too steady on your thigh. Not too close to be improper. Not too far to be innocent.

The ride starts quiet. The trail is narrow and the woods thick with summer heat. Cicadas buzz low in the brush, and the horse’s hooves thud a steady rhythm beneath you.

You try to focus on the path ahead, on the warmth of the sun, on anything but the solid weight of Arthur Morgan pressed up behind you. You shift slightly in the saddle, trying to get comfortable.

“Careful,” he murmurs, voice low and deep by your ear. “Ain’t much space to move.”

“Sorry,” you say, voice catching on your breath. The leather creaks beneath you both, and when the horse stumbles slightly on a rut, you lurch backward—right into him.

His arm tightens around your middle, instinctive. “Got you,” he mutters.

You don’t speak. Neither does he.

But you can feel it now—him. Hard muscle. Steady breath. The unmistakable pressure of his cock growing beneath you, pressed right up where your backside rests in his lap. You sit forward, pretending not to notice.

His hand doesn’t move from your waist.

“You alright up there?” he asks, voice tighter now.

“Mhm.” You lie. Your pulse is wild, heat pooling low in your belly. You’re too aware of the sway of the horse, the slow friction of his thighs bracketing yours, the way each bump in the trail makes your body rock back into his.

Then his hand shifts. Just an inch, higher on your waist.

“Y’know,” he says slowly, “back in Valentine, someone asked if you were my girl.”

Your heart stutters.

“What’d you tell them?”

“Said you weren’t,” he says, then adds, quieter, “Didn’t say I didn’t want you to be.”

You exhale, shaky. “You really shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m already sittin’ in your lap. And I don’t think you could say something more dangerous.”

His hand squeezes your hip, just slightly.

You can feel him now—hard, straining against you.

“I been tryin’ not to think about it,” he mutters, breath warm against your ear. “But you… movin’ on me like that…”

You shift again, on purpose this time. Your back presses against his chest, your hand settling on his thigh.

“You don’t gotta hold back,” you say softly.

That does it.

He jerks the reins and veers off the trail, into the trees. Dismounts fast. Reaches up for you like he can’t help it. You barely hit the ground before his hands are on your waist, mouth crashing into yours, wild and hot.

“Goddamn,” he groans against your lips. “You got no idea what you’re doin’ to me.”

He spins you to the nearest tree. Your back hits the bark. His hand’s already sliding up your skirt, fingers rough against your bare thighs.

“Been thinkin’ about this for too long,” he mutters, mouth at your neck, hand slipping beneath your drawers. “Hell, you’re soaked already.”

You can’t breathe. Can’t think. You reach for his belt.

He stops you just long enough to mutter, “Let me.”

The buckle clinks. His cock springs free—hard and flushed—and then he’s turning you around, pushing you gently forward until you’re braced against the tree.

“Skirt up,” he says, voice thick and low.

You do. And then he’s behind you again, one hand gripping your hip, the other guiding himself to your entrance.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He pushes in.

The stretch is sharp. Deep. You cry out, grabbing at the tree for balance. Arthur groans—long and low—like he’s been holding that sound in for weeks.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, “Takin’ all of me. You feel that?”

You nod, unable to speak.

“Ain’t even moved yet and you’re already grippin’ me like a vice,” he mutters, and then he starts to move.

Slow at first. Deep and grinding. You feel every inch of him dragging through you, thick and hot, his hips slapping against you with a rhythm that grows more desperate by the second.

His hand slides around, thumb finding your clit. “You been wantin’ this,” he says. “Ridin’ up on me all day. Lettin’ me feel how warm you were. You wanted me to take you.”

You moan, and that’s all he needs.

He thrusts harder, deeper, slamming into you so hard it rocks you forward on your toes.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he pants. “You hear that? That’s you makin’ a goddamn mess on me.”

You cry out when his fingers tighten, when his cock drags over that spot again and again.

“You keep squeezin’ me like that, I ain’t gonna last,” he growls. “You want it? You want me to fill you up?”

You nod desperately, words gone.

“Then give it to me,” he grits. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.”

You fall apart—legs shaking, breath gone, vision swimming as your orgasm tears through you. You clench around him, pulsing, dripping, and Arthur groans so loud you feel it in your chest.

“Shit—fuck—there it is,” he mutters. One more thrust, and then he’s buried deep, twitching, spilling inside you with a broken groan, his hands gripping your hips like he’s anchoring himself to you.

He stays like that for a moment—forehead to your shoulder, body shaking with aftershock.

When he pulls out, it’s slow. Careful.

Your drawers are soaked. Your legs are jelly. But he helps you dress again, his hands surprisingly gentle.

“You alright?” he asks.

You nod.

He glances at you, guilt flickering behind his eyes, but he doesn’t say it.

“I ain’t proud of that,” he finally mutters. “But I ain’t sorry neither.”

You don’t speak. Just brush his hand with yours.

He mounts the horse again, then reaches a hand back to you.

“C’mon,” he says. “Get back up here.”

You do. His arms wrap around your waist again. But this time, his hand rests low on your stomach.

And you know it isn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

[disgraceful-writings]

nsfw arthur drabble

— ʚɞ

Just thinking about how warm and cozy it gets under the covers when you’re cuddling with Arthur after sleeping all night. He can’t help the way his hands roam your impossibly soft thighs. The way he also can’t help but gently paw at your ass over your nightgown.

He’d nibble the shell of your ear and gently lick it, teasing you to get you to lift up your gown and open those pillows you call thighs just enough so he can slip his morning hardness between them. The way he’d groan when your plush, warm, fleshy thighs would encase his throbbing length. How you’d be slightly awake, hearing his soft grunts as he’d roll his hips into your thighs, his happy trail grazing your ass.

Arthur always tried to be gentle in the morning. Usually he was because he didn’t wanna wake up anyone in the camp. He wanted to be gentle with you since you were truly a sleeping beauty. He’d squeeze your hips a bit as he rolled his own into your thighs, getting more desperate by the second. His smooth hardness just caressing your flesh, making your clit throb. His grunts would turn a bit more breathy as he got closer to his release.

He’d always pull his hips back a little before he came, so that he could release his sticky seed completely inside your thighs. He wouldn’t want to make a mess of your pretty sleepwear or your favorite (only, lets be real) set of sheets, after all. The hotness of his release would warm your thighs instantly, and the wetness made them slick and slightly stick together.

When you tried to pull your thighs apart because of the slightly weird sensation, Arthur would gently hold them together in place whispering,

“Keep it safe for me, honey.”

— ʚɞ

[disgraceful-writings]

A Clean Shave | Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

She was watchin’ him again.

Arthur could feel it—same as feelin’ the sun on his back or the breeze off the river. She thought she was bein’ sneaky, standin’ there with that damn laundry basket like she wasn’t burnin’ holes clean through him with her eyes.

He sighed low, dragging the razor slow down his jaw, careful and steady. No hurry. Couldn’t be, not with a blade this sharp near his throat. And not with her there—lookin’ at him like that.

Christ. She had no business lookin’ at him like that.

Too young. Too soft. Too full of foolish dreams and trouble he wasn’t about to reach for.

But God, if he didn’t notice every time she hovered near. Or sat by the fire just to be close. Or glanced sideways at him when she thought he wasn’t payin’ attention.

He was always payin’ attention.

The razor scraped clean, smooth down his cheek. He dipped it in the basin, shaking off the soap.

"Enjoyin’ the show there, little miss?" he drawled without lookin’, eyes flickin’ sideways to catch the way she stiffened—caught good and proper.

Her mouth opened, stammering something about restin’ her arms. Poor damn excuse. Cute, though. Sweet. Made his chest twist the way it hadn’t in years.

He kept on shaving, hiding the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Gotta be careful starin’ at a man while he’s holdin’ somethin’ sharp, y’know."

"I ain’t scared of you," she shot back, brave as ever.

Brave. Foolish. Beautiful.

Arthur rinsed the blade again, watched the sun catch in her hair as she shifted her weight—feet nervous, but eyes bold.

"You're too young for me anyway. Oughta keep your pretty eyes on somethin’ else."

He meant it. Mostly. But it sounded weaker every time he said it. Like maybe he was tryin’ to remind himself more than her.

And then she said it. Soft, like it didn’t matter. Like she wasn’t wreckin’ him without even tryin’:

"I don’t care how old you are. Ain’t my fault you look like that."

Arthur nearly cut himself.

Christ.

His throat worked slow. Careful. The razor dragging clean along the curve, but his hand wasn’t as steady anymore. Not when she said things like that. Not when she meant it.

"Careful, girl," he muttered rough, the words low like warning and wish all at once. "You keep lookin’ at me like that and you’ll get ideas you got no business havin’."

I’ll get ideas I got no business havin’.

But she only smiled—damn trouble in that smile—and backed away slow, hips swinging like she knew exactly what she was doing. Like she wanted him lookin’.

"Guess I’ll have to get real good at hidin’ ‘em, then."

Arthur watched her go. And for the life of him, he wanted her to stay. But he didn’t call her back. Didn’t trust himself to. Not yet.

[disgraceful-writings]

Reminder that if you support trump in any way, shape, or form to unfollow me immediately 🥰🥰🥰

[disgraceful-writings]

cw: needy tomura, pathetic reader, implied sex, implied relationship.

————————————————————————

Crimson eyes bore into you, a gaze so scrutinizing—to the point it was almost borderline painful. Almost.

Could love truly be held by such a gruesome man? With a hand so deadly, even the briefest touch would render you gone? Dead? Rotting? You push those thoughts aside, instead listening to the pleading of such a sinner.

“Stay.” He demands in such a pathetic utterance, you can’t even bear to decline. With a tone so gruff, it sent shivers through you. Four fingers reach for your wrist, the final ghosting over the tender skin.

Just one, one would be enough. Enough to truly rid you from this world, fear prickled in the strands of your mind. You knew better, he wouldn’t. Would he?

This was your Tomura No, Tenko. Your Tenko, and you trust him with every inch of your bleeding heart.

“It’s getting late. You are aware of that, are you not?” You can’t help but smile as the words leave your lips, noticing the tinges of red that bloomed across his cheeks.

His hand tightened its hold on your delicate skin, guiding it close to his face. “Can’t you indulge me just this once?” Tenko’s frown deepened.

You almost snort from his tone, so childishly petulant, so desperate, so irrecoverably yours. The urgency in his voice for you—just you, was maddening. You sigh, opting to listen as always.

How could you possibly refuse? Here he was begging for you, it was only right to oblige. You caressed his cheek, drinking in even the smallest of reactions.

His eyes stare at you eerily, a sharpness that you weren’t quite used to. Was it anger? Desire? You push that thought deep into the corners of your mind, this was your Tenko.

Comforting him, came before your own deranged needs. You love him, love him so purely. You can’t, can’t touch him the way you want to. Maybe if you pretend this heat didn’t exist, it wouldn’t.

[disgraceful-writings]

kirishima's breeding kink literally clouds all judgement when to comes to sex. he's a good, smart guy and he KNOWS to use condoms but when you rip the tip with your teeth he nearly tackles you to get his now bare cock inside you before he cums

[disgraceful-writings]

ღ tomura shigaraki —sex headcanons

1. desperate, always

He fucks like he’s starving. Like he needs you to fill some impossible void inside him. It’s not just about release, it’s about obliteration. He wants to lose himself in you completely like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered.

2. obsessively possessive

He doesn’t do casual. Not with you. He’ll snarl “mine” into your neck, bite hard enough to bruise and grip your thighs like he’s anchoring himself to reality. You’re not allowed to look at anyone else or he’ll destroy them.

3. so fucking vocal

Whimpers, growls, full on choked moan. He’s not quiet. Not even close. His voice cracks when he begs. And yes, he does beg. “Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop. Need you…need you right now.”

4. rough in a needy way

His nails dig into your skin. His hips are frantic. He can’t hold back. He loses rhythm, because he’s so caught up in how tight, warm and real you are. Sometimes he finishes fast just from how overwhelmed he gets and he hates that. So you end up going again and again.

5. touch-starved to the point of madness

The second you run your fingers through his hair or kiss his cheek he short-circuits. He leans into your touch like a dying man. If you tell him you love him while he’s inside you? He might break.

6. eye contact that borders on worship

He stares at you like you’re his last lifeline. Glowing red eyes locked on yours, panting, trembling and whispering your name like it’s a prayer. No one’s ever touched him like this. No one’s ever stayed.

7. chaos in the sheets

He doesn’t always know what he’s doing, but he’s learning fast. He’s eager, intense and obsessed with your reactions. Accidentally overstimulates you? He’ll do it again on purpose just to see you cry out.

8. terrified of losing control

He always holds back just enough to make sure he doesn’t destroy you, literally or emotionally. He wants to ruin you in the filthiest ways, but he also wants to be gentle and doesn’t know how. So sometimes he shakes insecurely, even mid thrust, whispering, “Tell me you’re okay. Tell me you want this.”

9. gets off on corruption

The more innocent you act? The more he loses his mind. He lives for dragging you down with him, ruining your pretty words, making you say the dirtiest things while he’s buried in you. “Say it louder. I wanna hear you say you like being fucked by a villain.”

10. aftercare is conflicted

He’ll pull you into his chest and bury his nose in your hair, clinging like a child. But the next second he’ll flinch like he shouldn’t be allowed to touch you. He thinks he’s disgusting. He thinks you’ll leave. So hold him tighter. Whisper his name. Remind him: you chose this.

[disgraceful-writings]

i gotchu brah

sorry guys thoughts be runnin wild after 1 am

!! // imagine overstimulating hobie until hes cryin n sobbin n twitching in your palm cumming uncontrollably

"l-love, please, can't take no more.." he involuntarily jerked up into your fist as you jerked him off roughly. he sniffled, tears welling up in his eyes after he just came in spurts of white, thick cum.

he wasn't even sure how he could still cum, and he lost track of how many times he came in your hands. "nah, i think you can take one more." you spoke mercilessly, feeling him throb and twitch.

you left soft kisses on his jaw as you laid right next to him, his cock in your hand, tip swollen. "such a pretty boy, yeah?" you murmured into his ear as he whimpered, unable to form coherent sentences.

you leaned in to kiss him as he held your free hand, tired and weak. he looked at you with half lidded eyes, kissing you back. you felt him jerk up into your palm before you crawled to the foot of your bed, releasing your grip on his dick for just a moment.

he sighed in relief, thinking it was over as tears of overstimulation flowed out of his puffy red eyes.

his relief was quickly crushed as he felt your mouth take him in, his cock hitting the back of your throat. "d- doll, pleasepleaseplease i can't, i can't-" he whined, clasping a hand over his mouth as he bucked up into your throat while you bobbed up and down.

he felt another agonizing wave of pleasure crash over him, cumming deep in your throat as you swallowed it all. he was panting desperately, his chest heaving up and down.

you slid off his cock with a 'pop' before crawling up into bed and next to him. his head was thrown back into the pillows, finally relaxing.

his breath hitched as you wrapped your hand around his dick one more time and he looked at you with pleading eyes. "i- i can't, please, hun." he begged.

"one more and we're done, i promise."

[disgraceful-writings]

⭑ experience

thinking about how hobie is a firm believer of experiencing music.

which is not an unusual or particularly punk concept. he likes concerts because he can feel the base in his chest, on and off the stage. he likes meeting new artists because you start to understand the soul of songs alongside the sounds.

and when you tell him you love a song, he asks if you want to feel it.

and of course you interpret this as getting better speakers, or going to hear it live, or some typical way of feeling music. so when he offers up a night at his place to do so, you don’t expect anything crazy.

but hobie does his research, listening to the song over and over until ever note, every thrum, every vocal rhythm is committed to memory.

why? , you may be asking.

well, it’s much easier to fuck you into the mattress to the tune of it when he can anticipate the exact rhythm his thrusts need to be.

he’ll throw you into missionary, working you up until your dripping and needy. he’ll grab his phone and click a playlist, sliding into you as the first sounds of your song come through his bluetooth speakers.

and he commits. doesn’t matter how much you beg him for a change, he’s sticking to the song until it’s over.

“oh fuck, hobie. please-“ you whine, your hands grasping the pillow behind your head as your hips buck, trying to work him up into moving faster.

“easy there.” he coos, almost mockingly as he places a hand on your lower abdomen to press you firmly down into the bed. “i thought you liked this song.”

the sex is amazing, but it always is with hobie.

the bad part is the aftermath.

because now, when the song plays on the radio or your playlists or anywhere, you get a pavlovian response of heat between your legs and a throb in your core.

and it’s even worse when hobie’s there, because he’ll lean close and whisper

“i still remember the tune if you feel like another round.”

as his hand strokes up your thigh, cupping your crotch in his palm as you keen.

i’m back~ did you miss me?

[disgraceful-writings]

Okay but imagine you seeing Eddie's cock for the first time and you try to run away from it because it's too big and that won't fit 😭🤚

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You both were butt naked, having been making out and taking each other's clothes off, until you got to his boxers and that's when your fight or flight kicked in, jumping off the couch you pointed at it, standing all hard and leaking wayyy past his belly button

"What? What?!" He asked desperately, your face pale like you saw a ghost

"Jesus Christ on a motorbike, why is it so big?!"

"I told you it was big, didn't think it was that big" he saw grabbing his head with his thumb and letting it fall back on his thigh "Oh come on babe, it's not too much"

"Sir, where do you think you're putting that horse?"

"Inside your stable now get over here"

"Nuh uh"

"What do you mean nuh uh?"

"Nuh uh" you started walking away from him, eyeing the monster between his legs

"Where are you going Y/n?"

"Away from your third leg"

"Aye! Come 'ere!"

"No!" You made a run for it to the bedroom but there was nowhere to hide from Eddie's massive schlong

"Babyyyyy~ You can run but you can't hide~" he sang to you coming into the room

Finally catching you he tackled you on the bed, you tried to get away from him but he held your wrists up your head and you couldn't help but giggle at each other's antics, him joining too

"No but really, is that even gonna fit?"

He smiled down at you, a smile you had seen only when he was planning something evil

"I'll make it fit"

A few minutes later, and a sloppy eating out of your pussy, you were getting your guts rearranged by Eddie's 9 incher deep inside you, he was true to his word and did make it fit

He had you literally molten into the mattress as he pounded into you, your legs jelly around his shoulders, having you on a mean mating press, all his strength going to his hips to make sure he could fuck your very brains out

"S-slow... D-down aaah" you begged but Eddie was gone in your pussy and how it squelched around his horse cock

You couldn't walk for the next week or so...

[disgraceful-writings]

Shouto softly (for him) pounding you into the mattress, feeling every clench and squeeze from your overstimulated pussy. He feels so good, holds back whimpers, and gasps how good you feel into your ear. You're at the edge of passing out, tired and overwhelmed, yet you need it more than anything in the world. Can you remember how many times have you cum? Oh, no, you can't. Every thought is filled with him and his goddamn, big ass cock. You just lay there, letting yourself be loved and fucked by the man that owns your heart. The man who cuddles with you, comforts you, after he had finally cum. Who can admire how his seed drips down your ass, bringing two fingers in your pussy to finger his cum back into you. You cling to him, hold onto his neck, whining that it's too much, he silences you with his tongue tangling with yours. He'll do it till you squirt, liquid gushing out onto the sheets together with his cum. He lets you fall asleep, murmuring how beautiful you are, how amazing you were... When you wake up, the sheets are fresh, your body is clean, held by Shouto.

[disgraceful-writings]

"shit babe..." he hissed "what the fuck got into you?"

You momentarily stop kissing his clothed dick from your position in between his legs. "I've been thinking about blowing you for the past three days" another kiss, a little wetter this time "I'm ovulating"

You trail your hands up the sides of his toned thighs and pull down the band of his pants and boxers. "Well, shit...." He combs through his sweaty hair with one hand and the sight makes you even hornier. The way he's manspreading like that....his dick upright, the veins throbbing, just begging to be traced by your tongue.

There's no way you can wait any longer so you dive in, your mouth sucking the tip and your hand playing with his balls. He's immediately hit with bolts of pleasure and a shiver runs through his whole body. Almost instantly, Katsuki places one hand behind your head and moans. You move your lips to the side of his thick member and leave a trail of saliva for lubrication. Then you return to the tip, and start your descent to his base, trying your best to take it all in. "Ahh...babe....that feels amazing" hearing his low moan excites you even more as you hollow your cheeks and start bobbing your head up and down his dick.

Your lover can't help but move his hips, matching your rhythm and bucking his lower body into your mouth, the one hand that was holding your head, grips harder at your hair, and the other hand squeezes your free hand that's on his thigh. "Mmnn...I'm close...." You're in the mood to swallow his cum today so you don't pull out, instead you suck even harder and faster until finally he finishes "ARGH MNNN..." Spurts of hot white cum gets released into your mouth and you gulp it all.

The look on his eyes say he's been completely taken over with lust. There are small beads of sweat on his forehead and his face is flushed. He looks so pretty like this and you fall in love with him all over again. Once it looked like Katsuki finished catching his breath, you stand up before him and guide his hand to your own sopping wet cunt "Katsuki...help me with this."

"Ofcourse baby"

[disgraceful-writings]

⊹₊⟡⋆ Head is wicked ⭑.ᐟ

Aizawa loves eye contact in situations other than just hero work !! warning: nsfw, oral sex

“Mind making me one too?” a voice called out, followed by a head popping into the doorway.

You turned from where you were setting up the kettle to prepare a nice, relaxing tea before bed. “Yeah of cour-“ you stopped mid-sentence, mouth hanging open when you caught sight of him.

Aizawa was leaning against the doorframe, fresh out of the shower with a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, v-line adorned with a mouth-watering happy trail.

Your eyes ogled his abs and biceps before trailing lower and lower down, frowning when what you wanted to see most was obscured by the towel.

He noticed your gaze, obviously, and sighed like he was questioning life itself.

“Close your mouth before you start drooling.” he grumbled, cheeks tinged pink at your relentless staring.

“I know something I can drool on.” You grinned, earning a judgemental glance your way.

“You’re shameless,” he groaned, but you quickly noticed the way his cock was rising and making a clear imprint in the thin towel—just begging for your attention.

You smirked and made your way over to him, tracing a finger down his still slightly damp chest to feel those toned muscles yourself. “and you like it,” you point out, earning a huff from him that leads him to adjusting the towel to no avail.

His eyes follow you when you drop to your knees in front of him, giving him a sweet smile before tugging down the towel swiftly and nearly being hit in the face when his length bobbed up. He let out a surprised huff at your restlessness.

“You can’t wait to move to the bedroom?” He raised a brow, and you shook your head.

“Want you now,” you answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Demanding.” he murmured, but you didn’t miss the way his hips subtly inched forward to press his flushed head against your lips.

With a knowing smile you waste no time in spitting on your hand before wrapping it around his cock, feeling him twitch in your grasp when you started to pump your hand up and down.

At the same moment you lick a stripe up his cock, tongue tracing the prominent vein on the side that had his teeth grinding from the sensitivity. When you reached the top you pressed a wet kiss against his tip, eagerly licking up the dribbling precum.

He looks down at you with his hooded eyes, a flicker of lust in his gaze before they rolled back in his skull when you took him into your mouth.

Sucking his fat tip like a lollipop, you pushed your head further and further—hand still pumping the area your mouth didn’t yet cover.

He brought a palm to his face to stifle the loud moans threatening to spill at the feeling of your warm mouth enveloping him, swallowing inch after inch without any hesitance.

When he finally bottomed out with his tip brushing the back of your throat, your fingers stayed wrapped around his base as you took a second to breathe through your nose.

Your tongue swirled around him, focusing on that one vein that had his hips jerking and cock forcing its way deeper into your throat. You choked around him, making him curse and pull you off of him swiftly.

“shit- sorry sweetheart.” He ran his fingers through your hair apologetically—an innocent action that had a less so idea sparking into your head.

Leaning into his fingers threaded into your hair, you suddenly blurted out, ”facefuck me.”

His worried expression turned to surprise and he was now the one to choke. “Come again?” he blurted, and you fought the urge to make a suggestive joke about that too.

”Use my throat,” you repeated, blinking up at him with desperate, wide eyes you knew he couldn’t resist. “Please?”

He released a shaky breath before the gentle fingers running through your hair turned to a firm grip. “The things that come out of your mouth—” he grumbled, other hand lining up his cock with your mouth.

“—so filthy.” He tapped his flushed tip against your lips a few times, smearing the mix of pre and spit like a lipgloss. He pushed into your mouth slowly, eyeing the way you swallowed him up eagerly.

His head tilted back in pleasure when you took him to the base again, the happy trail that started this in the first place brushing against your nose.

Just like you demanded requested, he bobbed your head up and down his length, using your throat for his pleasure. Breathing through your nose, you looked up to once again admire his toned abs that flexed every time you swallowed around him. He looked back down at you, mouth open and panting and eyes locked onto yours.

His eye contact was strong and you suddenly felt awkward under his gaze, looking down instead at where his dick appeared then disappeared into your mouth as your head was maneuvered down it.

All of a sudden he stopped, heavy cock sitting idly on your tongue. You looked up at him with a confused expression, pussy dripping when you were met with the dark look in his eyes.

“Did I tell you to look away?” he asked, and you made a muffled sound of confusion around him.

He pulled you off of him, hand moving from your hair to the side of your face to cradle it.

“I said, keep those gorgeous eyes on me.” he ordered, his deep monotone voice making you clench your thighs together in desperation. He wiped some drool off your chin affectionately, a direct contrast to the rough way he shoved your head back down his cock.

You choked around it, moaning loudly and sending vibrations that had him groaning. “Come on, you were staring so shamelessly at me before, why so shy now?” he chided.

Drool was spilling from your lips and your cunt throbbed at the way he manhandled you up and down like a toy. Your eyes watered when you gagged around him, but still you managed to look up at him with teary eyes.

He smiled devilishly and wiped a stray tear from your cheek, hips thrusting into your mouth at the same time his firm grip brought your head down.

He was twitching wildly in your mouth and you knew he was close, sucking him harder and paying special attention to that sensitive vein and his fat tip.

“Ugh- fuck, yes. Just like that,” he praised, moaning desperately and moving his free hand to grip the doorframe for dear life.

With his eyes still on yours, you winked up at him cheekily, and that was it. He tipped over that edge and came hard.

“oh, fuckkkk” he moaned, head tilting back and fingers tightening in your hair as he spilled down your throat. His abs tensed, cock jerking as it pumped load after load down your welcoming throat.

He kept up his movements until his high was finally ridden out and his breath evened, hips stilling before pulling you off of him with an obscene pop!

You were gasping for breath, choking with a mix of spit and cum dripping down your chin into a messy puddle on the ground. He gazed down at you lovingly, moving to grab the discarded towel to wipe the mess off you.

With a whine you rubbed your sore throat, earning a forehead kiss in apology.

“I’m sorry, pretty. Was I too rough?” he asked with a guilty expression.

You shook your head. “No, I liked it,” you smirked, wincing at the rough feeling of your throat when you spoke. He chuckled and helped you off the ground, motioning for you to go rest on the couch.

“How about I make you that tea,” he hums and you nod in agreement.

[disgraceful-writings]

play fighting with katsuki<3

katsuki had said time and time again, "don't wanna hurt you on accident, baby. cut it out."

but you were relentless. you craved, needed and practically begged for katsuki to wrestle you to the ground as you flailed uselessly under him.

there was something about the way his forearms flexed as he pinned your wrists to the plush carpet of your home; katsuki would grin wickedly as he straddled you and brought his face centimeters from yours. "had enough yet?"

"nope," and you're worming your way from his gentle grip to kick up at his chest, though he catches your foot with ease. "hey, no fair! don't fold me!"

but he had already decided, you needed to be brought back down to earth. katsuki's hips solidly glue to yours as he leans over fully to bring your ankles by your ears. he had you folded like a pretzel. no matter how you squirmed and whined, katsuki had you in the most delicious mating press.

"yeah, i know, justtt fuckin' take it. you asked for this, nah, you begged for it."

he had you crying, hands pushing your thighs closer to your head as his cock drove into you over and over again. katsuki's a sweaty mess above you, tongue dipping out to lick at his lips while his eyes honed in on how your gummy walls gripped the base of his cock with each thrust.

"katsuki, kats', katsuki!! i can't, 's too much!"

"uh uh," he tuts and shifts his hips till he's angled upward and battering against that spongy spot deep inside you. "you wanted to fight, so we're fighting, baby. you're losing."

your face scrunches up and he grins cockily at your bleating whimper, "you're too strong! it's not fair!"

"not fair? 's not fair? awh, but weren't you just begging me to get on top of ya? you wanted this as much as i did."

you can't say no, in fact, you can't even reply as your husband fucks your brains out. his hips messily clap against yours with slick thumps against your ass; it smells of sweat and sex, and katsuki is reveling in your body as he rolls his fat cock deep into your guts.

"fuck, 'm in there, aren't i? fuuuck, i love fucking this sweet pussy. you just know what to do," he groans into your neck, hunckering over you to relentlessly pound you into your soft carpet.

"gonna cum, gonna cum!!"

you can barely reply to him, only able to feel how he fucks into your cunt with the ferocity of a man starved. a man in control, and you're delirious as you wrap yourself around katsuki as an anchor.

he knows your body, knows you're getting so close when your pretty feet curl into crescents and your head flies back—your hair splayed out on the ground and looking so delectable as the swan of your neck grows exposed.

"yeah, that's it, fuckin' cum on my cock. cum for your husband, you know you wanna give in."

and you do give in. hard. you're crying out and squirting from effort as your orgasm overtakes you. katsuki is right behind you, driving his hips deep one last time before spurting creamy white inside you. you can feel each pulse, and it drives you so wild that your eyes roll back.

"thereee we go," he grunts, hips twitching as he massages the backs of your thighs. katsuki lightly pats your cheek, thumb rubbing over the plump skin before pulling away.

"that was only round one, you know. i wanna go again," he's nosing at your jaw now, still having you pinned underneath him. "let's go again. come on, you can take me."

and you do, willingly. naturally, katsuki ends up tackling you to the ground with a joyful laugh, and all you can do is smile and let your man do what he does best. fight and fuck.