#light dom/sub dynamics

[aventurineswife]

Howdy there! Can I request a suggestive fic with Kaveh where the reader tries their best to convince Kaveh to not pull an all nighter and exhaust himself out because of a big project he's been working on, so they take it upon themselves to try and convince him with sweet kisses and soft caresses! I just love the mental image of reader sitting on his lap and kissing him all over to convince him to go to bed so he can rest while they spoil him, because he absolutely deserves to be spoiled!!!!!.

Have a good day, and no pressure with making this <3

Tired Eyes, Tender Heart

Summary: Kaveh has been pushing himself too hard with a big project, ignoring his need for rest. His concerned partner tries to convince him to take a break, gently coaxing him with soft kisses and affectionate touches. Eventually, Kaveh surrenders to the warmth of your love and care, allowing himself a moment of relaxation and tenderness. In the end, it’s a night for Kaveh to receive the attention and rest he so desperately deserves.

Tags: Kaveh x Reader, Suggestive, Fluff, Soft Romance, Emotional Comfort, Slow Burn, Affection, Rest, Caregiving, Light Dom/Sub Dynamics

Warnings: Suggestive Content, Mild Innuendo, Emotional Vulnerability, Physical Affection.

It was late. The moonlight filtered through the half-open windows, casting long shadows across the room where Kaveh sat hunched over his desk, the light of his lantern flickering weakly against the sheer volume of blueprints sprawled across the surface. His fingers trembled slightly, not from lack of skill, but from the exhaustion that had taken over his body. Yet, the passion that fueled his soul refused to let him stop working. The lines on the parchment blurred, but his mind was alive with his grand designs. He had to finish this—he simply couldn’t stop.

But then, a soft voice broke through the storm of thoughts swirling in his head.

"You're going to burn yourself out, Kaveh."

You stood at the doorway, watching him for a moment before stepping inside. Your eyes softened at the sight of him—his hair disheveled, his sharp eyes weary yet still focused. You had seen him like this far too many times. He was always so driven by his ideals, always pushing himself too hard. The thought of him falling into a deep exhaustion, unable to recover, unsettled you.

"You know that this project won't go anywhere if you're too exhausted to finish it," you continued, your tone gentle but firm.

Kaveh let out a sigh, not bothering to look up from his work. "I know, but this... this needs to be perfect. Every detail matters."

You couldn’t help but smile at his dedication. His idealism was something that you admired deeply, but it also made him blind to his own needs. With a soft laugh, you crossed the room, kneeling beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"How about you take a break?" you suggested, your voice laced with sweetness. "Just for a little while. A moment to rest, so you can come back to this with a clearer mind."

He didn’t respond immediately, but the weight of your touch seemed to slow his hands. His eyes met yours for the first time in what felt like hours, and for a moment, you saw the weariness in them, the silent plea for someone to care enough to help him.

Before he could protest, you slipped onto his lap, straddling him gently. His breath hitched as you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. His body stiffened in surprise, but you stayed close, your warmth against his. The kiss you gave him lingered longer than necessary, a silent invitation to let go of the tension that gripped him.

"Kaveh," you whispered, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. "You’ve been working so hard. You deserve a little rest. Let me take care of you."

He hesitated, his hands flexing at his sides as though debating whether to push you away or hold you closer. But then, as you kissed him again—this time on his lips, slow and tender—he gave in, his body relaxing under your touch.

You didn’t stop there. Your kisses became a trail down his jaw, along his neck, sweet and soft, coaxing him into relaxation with every touch. His breath grew shallow, and his hands finally reached up to rest against your waist, pulling you even closer. But you didn’t let him pull away from your affection.

"You've worked so hard, Kaveh," you murmured against his skin, nipping lightly at his earlobe. "But you can’t do it all alone. Let me spoil you for once."

Kaveh’s mind was swirling, and though his body still ached to finish his project, it also longed for the tenderness you were offering. He leaned back in his chair, allowing you to guide him into a position of comfort. You kissed him again, this time deeper, more insistent, as if telling him, without words, that he deserved to rest, to feel loved, to be cherished.

When you finally pulled away, he was left breathless, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed at you with a mix of admiration and gratitude.

"You spoil me too much," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

You smiled softly, brushing your hand through his hair, smoothing out the tension there. "You deserve it, Kaveh. You deserve every bit of rest and affection. Now let me take care of you. Just for tonight."

He seemed to contemplate your words for a moment, his hand finding yours and squeezing it gently. Finally, with a sigh, he nodded, his voice barely a whisper.

"Alright. You win."

You couldn’t help but smile at his surrender, glad that he’d finally let go. As he relaxed into your embrace, you kissed him once more, this time a soft promise to care for him, to ensure that he never forgot how deserving he was of love and rest.

Together, you guided him away from his desk, towards the warmth of the bed, leaving the plans behind—if only for the night. Kaveh had given so much to the world, but tonight, it was his turn to receive, and you were more than happy to spoil him as he truly deserved.

[yanderejustforyou]

Burning Ice

notes: you already know babygirl inspired

The sun was setting outside the glass windows of your penthouse, but it was the cold inside the room that made your skin prickle. The space was sleek, modern, but it was the man sitting across from you that seemed to command it. Todoroki Shoto. Half ice, half flame. And, somehow, both were present in the quiet air between you two.

You had known Todoroki for years now. His quiet, reserved nature was a constant, yet there was a wildness to him that you had always noticed, just beneath the surface. Something that burned, something that could melt everything in its path.

Todoroki sat opposite you, his legs casually spread, leaning back in the leather chair. His mismatched eyes studied you with the precision of someone who knew exactly what to expect, and yet was always watching for any sign of weakness. His presence, like his quirk, was both soothing and dangerous. You felt it in the way the room shifted when he was near.

“You’ve been distracted lately,” Todoroki said, his voice low, almost too casual, but there was something in his tone that made the words feel like a challenge.

You couldn’t help the slight frown that tugged at your lips. “I’m fine,” you said, dismissing his observation. But he wasn’t fooled. He never was.

“I’m not sure you are,” Todoroki replied, his gaze unwavering, like a predator sizing up its prey. The way his icy half shimmered, contrasted with the fire in his eyes, unsettled you, but you couldn’t look away.

“Stop playing games, Todoroki,” you muttered, but there was no heat behind your words. It felt like he always had this ability to make you feel... small, vulnerable, without even trying.

His lips curled into the faintest smile, and you knew he’d heard the unspoken challenge in your words.

“I’m not playing any games,” he said, his voice just a little colder now. “But you are.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His gaze flickered down to your hands on the table, fingers curling slightly, a sign of your tension. He leaned forward, his tone changing ever so slightly, becoming more deliberate, more... controlled.

“You’ve been trying to control everything, [Y/N],” Todoroki said, each word deliberate, calculated. “But we both know you can’t always be in control.”

You wanted to snap back at him, to regain the upper hand. But there was something in his gaze that made it hard to form the words. Todoroki wasn’t like the others you’d dealt with. He wasn’t interested in petty arguments or challenges. He was interested in you, in breaking down the walls you built around yourself, in stripping you bare—not physically, but emotionally, mentally.

Todoroki’s eyes never left yours, and with each passing second, you could feel the weight of his gaze pushing you down, forcing you to acknowledge something deep inside yourself that you didn’t want to admit.

“You can’t always be the one in charge, you know,” Todoroki repeated, his tone even more pointed now. “It’s okay to let someone else take the reins every once in a while.”

There was a long silence, but it was thick, filled with the tension you could no longer ignore. He was testing you. Pushing you to see just how much control you really had over yourself.

You took a slow breath, trying to maintain your composure. “I don’t need you to tell me how to run my life, Todoroki,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but there was a tremor in it that you couldn’t hide.

Todoroki’s lips curled into a sly smile, and he slowly stood from his chair, walking toward you with a confident, almost predatory grace. “I think you do,” he said softly, the words brushing against your ear as he leaned down to get closer. “I think you need someone who isn’t afraid to take control. Someone who can make you feel things you’d rather ignore.”

His breath was hot against your ear, his voice like fire. You could feel your pulse quicken, the space between you two narrowing until there was barely any room for air.

“I’ve been watching you,” Todoroki murmured. “I’ve been watching you control everything. Everyone. But you can’t control me, [Y/N]. Not in the way you think. Not in this.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Something in the way Todoroki said it made you feel like you were being slowly, methodically undressed—emotionally, mentally. It wasn’t his quirk that had the power to freeze you; it was the way he saw right through you, saw the cracks in your walls, and didn’t flinch.

“I could break you,” Todoroki said, his voice calm, yet laden with an unmistakable edge of something darker. “But I won’t. Not if you want to fight it.” He paused, watching you with a gaze that made your skin flush despite yourself. “But if you do want to fight it, it’s going to hurt.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t a conversation anymore—it was a challenge. A challenge that you didn’t want to back down from, but you knew the consequences. Todoroki didn’t play by the rules, and you had to admit, you didn’t want him to.

Instead of backing away, you leaned forward slightly, your eyes locking with his, defiance flickering in the depths of your gaze. You weren’t about to let him control you—at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“I don’t need your approval,” you said, but even as the words left your lips, you felt a part of you that wanted to take them back. Wanted to feel what it was like to be undone, to have him break down the fortress you’d spent so long building.

Todoroki didn’t respond right away. Instead, his fingers brushed the side of your cheek, a soft touch that contrasted with the weight of his presence. “No,” he said quietly, his voice somehow both tender and harsh at once. “You need to let go, [Y/N]. You need this.”

You wanted to argue, to fight back. But the truth was, you were already unraveling.

“I think you’re already halfway there,” Todoroki said, his smile returning, predatory and confident. “You just don’t know it yet.”

It was a slow, gradual thing. First, his hand moved to the back of your neck, his fingers gentle, but firm. The pressure was enough to make you swallow, your breath uneven as your body betrayed you.

“Relax,” Todoroki murmured, the command so simple, yet so intense that you had no choice but to obey. Your body went limp in his grip, the fight within you fading, piece by piece.

“You’ve been holding everything in for so long,” he continued, his voice now smooth and even. “It’s time you let someone else take care of it. Time you let someone else control it.”

You wanted to resist. You wanted to fight it. But as his fingers tightened just slightly on the back of your neck, you realized that you didn’t want to fight it. You wanted to feel everything he was offering, to be caught in the fire and ice that was Todoroki.

Todoroki’s grip on you shifted, pulling you closer, forcing you to face him fully. His eyes bore into you with a mixture of fire and cold, as if daring you to admit what you already knew.

“You’re mine, [Y/N],” Todoroki whispered. “And you’ll learn to like it.”

And in that moment, you knew he was right.

[mid-sweettalk]

Idk if you're taking any prompts for stuck safe right now but what about Elphie on top and Glinda doesn't last very long because of it lmao.

Whew this got out of hand, as per usual. I just can never write some quick smutty drabbles, they always end up being 5k. Thanks for being patient for this, my friend!

Read on Ao3 or read under the cut! (Warning: omegaverse/ABO smut)

Galinda knows she’s fucked up somehow because Elphaba is being too nice.

Her Omega is stubborn, and she almost always fights Galinda on every request, even little ones, even if only teasingly. Today, though, she’s agreeing with everything Galinda says, answering every question immediately, fulfilling every plea.

“Do we have to go right this clock-tick?” she asks towards the end of breakfast, fifteen minutes before their first lecture. “We can’t just take a moment more to relax before our brains are put to work for the day?” She says this, but she’s already starting to gather her things, because Elphie always insists on arriving to class early.

She nearly trips over the bench when her girlfriend merely shrugs and says, “Alright.” Elphie settles back into her seat and takes a book out of her satchel, as if preparing to wait for her.

Galinda’s not the only one shocked at this; Fiyero, Boq, and Nessarose are all glancing back and forth between the two of them apprehensively.

“Are… you two fighting?” Fiyero asks tentatively, waving his fork to point at them both.

Galinda would answer in the negative, except even she’s suddenly unsure.

Elphie answers, though. Kind of. “Does it seem like we’re fighting?” she asks without looking up from her book.

Fiyero purses his lips uncertainly, but Boq and Nessa speak simultaneously. “No,” Nessa answers as Boq matter-of-factly says, “Yes!” They glance at each other, then back to Elphie, hopeful for clarification.

Green eyes roll upwards. “We’re not fighting. Honestly,” she scoffs. Then, turning briefly to Galinda, she says, “Finish your breakfast, my sweet. I’d rather not be late.”

Galinda’s cheeks heat up slightly as the other three pairs of eyes all turn toward her. She gives a little shrug before moving to pick at the last of her food—it hadn’t been her reason for whining to stay, but she found herself complying anyway. Elphie simply reads until about five minutes later, when Galinda clears her throat and hesitantly says, “Um, okay, are you ready to go darling?”

“Sure, my love,” is Elphie’s immediate reply as she closes her book and rises from her seat.

Galinda had been half-expecting the Omega to say no, so she finds herself scrambling to follow. She glares at Fiyero as he mimics a whipping motion with his hand, but still turns and hurries to catch up to her girlfriend.

Two classes later, Galinda is struggling to pay attention and finds herself whining again, as per usual. “Elphieee,” she whisper-sings, “can’t I just use your notes to study? This is dreadfully boring.” She’s still scribbling along, because she knows her girlfriend will say no.

Except she doesn’t. “Sure, sweet,” she whispers instead without hesitation.

Galinda’s head snaps to look at her incredulously, expecting to see an eyeroll or a stern look. But no, Elphie barely spares her a glance as she continues her diligent note-taking.

“Rest your hand, love,” Elphie reassures. “You can look over my notes later.”

When her girlfriend doesn’t rescind her offer, Galinda slowly puts her fountain pen down and slumps back a bit in her seat. It’s… unsettling, the way Elphie just… agrees. She hadn’t realized before now how much their bickering banter feels like a cornerstone of their relationship; without it, things are too… quiet.

It goes on like this for the rest of the day.

Galinda forgets her pencil for maths, and instead of chastising her for it, Elphie merely gives her a spare. “Make sure to write neatly; Professor’s said he can hardly decipherate your scrawl.”

Galinda complains about wanting classes to be done so they can cuddle, and Elphie hooks a finger beneath her chin to pull her into a soft, languid kiss—in the middle of the cafeteria, in front of their friends. Aside from when they first (officially) got together, Elphie has never kissed her in public beyond a chaste peck—before patting her cheek. “That should be enough to last you for a bit. Now eat your food; we have sparring soon, and you’ll need your energy.” Galinda ignores Fiyero’s “whipped” joke, this time, too stunned and flushed from the sudden display of affection to care in the slightest.

It all sets Galinda on edge, a strange anxiety rising in her chest—no, not anxiety, but anticipation. Something has been up with Elphaba all day, and she has a feeling she’ll figure out exactly what when they get back to their room. The feeling is made worse by the fact that their last lecture separates them, so she all but runs to their dorm once class is dismissed.

She beats Elphie there; in fact, she could swear her girlfriend takes longer to get back to their room than she usually does, most likely because she knows exactly what she’s doing to her.

As soon as Elphie walks through the door, Galinda is speaking. “Did I do something wrong? Is Fiyero right—are you mad at me? If I did, I’m sorry—please just tell me.”

Elphie pauses in the doorway, lips parting slightly in shock at Galinda’s anxious interrogation. She recovers quickly, though, and gives a soft smile as she walks in and closes the door behind her. “No, my sweet, I’m not mad at you.” She goes to place her books down on her desk before walking over to the Alpha squirming uneasily in her seat. “And actually, you’ve been very good for me, today.”

Galinda perks up a bit at that, the praise combined with Elphie’s low voice sending a spark down her spine. “Oh?”

“Mmhm,” Elphie hums affirmatively as she walks up to her, stepping between Galinda’s knees. Galinda’s breath catches as green hands lift to tuck her hair behind her ears and cup just underneath her jaw on both sides. “Very good.”

...oh.

Galinda gulps, hands automatically moving to Elphie’s hips as she steps in close. Her Omega takes control sometimes, sure, but something about this—perhaps because it’s coming after such a strange day—feels different.

“Did you notice,” Elphie continues quietly as her thumbs stroke Galinda’s cheeks, “that even though I was giving you what you wanted all day, you still couldn’t help but obey me?”

“I—” Galinda starts to speak a retort but catches herself as she realizes—Elphaba’s right. Every time Elphie had gone along with what she’d asked for, she’d followed it with an order... and Galinda had just blindly complied. “W-why?” she breathes instead, confused about her girlfriend’s reasoning behind such a charade.

Elphie hums again as one of her hands trails down her neck, nails dragging lightly over Galinda’s throat and causing her to instinctively tilt her head to give her more room. “I wanted to try to give you a semblance of the control you like so much…” she presses her nails harshly into Galinda’s neck and drags downwards, making her hiss,“...before I took it away for the night.”

“Oh, Oz,” Galinda whimpers. She’s not quite sure what to do with herself, stuck holding Elphie’s hips with trembling hands because she so, so wants to see where her Omega will take this. She’s already hardening between her legs, and she knows Elphie can smell how turned on she is by that damned smirk on her face.

“That is,” her Omega says slyly, “if you’d like that?”

Galinda bites her lip to hold back another whimper and nods, not trusting her voice.

But Elphie digs her nails in again, making her gasp. “I need your words, my sweet.”

Oz, she was going to have her begging with less than two minutes of teasing. “Y-yes,” she says, trying to hold onto at least some of her dignity.

Her Omega has other plans. “‘Yes,’ what?”

Fuck. “Yes, please, I’d like that,” she breathes out all at once, face burning.

Elphie hums, satisfied. “Good girl.” Then, she brings down a hand to tug at the collar of Galinda’s shirt. “Clothes off, my Alpha,” she says teasingly before stepping back to start shedding her own.

Galinda, embarrassingly, scrambles to comply, shucking off her dress and shirt and undergarments until she is naked as the day she was born. Her dick is already fully hard and throbbing. She shivers as the cold air hits her flushed skin and waits—rather impatiently—as Elphaba takes her time to undress herself. Galinda’s hands twitch at her sides with the urge to touch her Omega, to help her remove the offending articles of clothing, but Elphie’s voice saying “good girl” rings in her head, and she stays seated.

So, she stares as more and more of Elphie’s skin is revealed, and she adores how confident her Omega has become in her own body, how she knows the effect she’s having on Galinda and very much takes advantage of it. Her hands linger, drifting across her skin whenever she removes another piece of cloth, the only sign of any shyness being the flush to her cheeks as she watches for Galinda’s reactions.

Galinda’s about to tear holes in her sheets with how tightly her fists are clenching them.

Elphie, now fully undressed, smirks at the sight and, curiously, walks over to Galinda’s wardrobe. “Lie back flat on the bed, my sweet. All the way, right in the middle, yes—good girl.” She instructs Galinda while she searches for and finds a sheer, pink scarf amongst Galinda’s things—one she’d briefly played around with while giving Elphie her first makeover.

Galinda’s heart thrums rapidly in her chest as Elphie climbs onto the bed and straddles her stomach, just below her ribs. She immediately goes to put her hands on those wonderocious green hips, but Elphie stops her.

“Here,” her Omega directs, bringing Galinda’s hands together so that her wrists press against each other. Then, with a heated look into her eyes, she starts tying the scarf to lock her hands in place.

Oh.

“Sweet Oz,” she breathes, which Elphie chuckles at.

“Still good, my love?”

“Hell, yes.” Her dick twitches as her Omega tightens the hold on her wrists.

Elphie full-on giggles, a rare sound that makes Galinda’s heart skip a beat. “How’s that?” she asks once the knot is tied.

Galinda tests it, tries to pry her hands apart and can’t, but it’s not uncomfortable at all. “It’s—good,” she chokes out, practically drooling in excitement.

Elphie nods and grabs her hands to kiss the back of her knuckles sweetly. “Now. What do we do if it gets to be too much?” She stares boldly into her eyes as she places feather-light kisses along one of her index fingers, moving toward the tip.

Galinda gulps before responding. “We—we tap three times?”

Elphie nods again before—oh-so-briefly—wrapping her lips around the very tip of her finger. She sucks lightly, darts her tongue out to brush against her skin. Galinda can feel her lips parting at the sight and sensation, can feel her cock pulsing unseen behind her Omega. Elphie sucks again before releasing the finger with a pop and says, “Exactly.”

She slowly brings their conjoined hands up above Galinda’s head, stretching out beautifully above her until their bare chests are pressed together and their faces mere centimeters apart. “Which means,” Elphie continues, “you have to keep your hands here. You won’t be able to reach me very well, for a bit.” Oh, Oz. “Knock on the headboard if you need to, alright, my love?”

Galinda nods frantically, only remembering to use her words when Elphie raises an eyebrow. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

Oh. That’s new. Elphie realizes it as well, her other eyebrow raising in surprise, but the smirk on her face tells Galinda that she likes it.

“Good,” her Omega says, closing the gap between them to gently suck at her bottom lip. Galinda can’t hold back a whine at the feeling. “Good girl,” Elphie continues before kissing her properly, then keeps speaking between kisses as she releases her hands and starts moving down Galinda’s body. “So good for me. My wonderful Alpha. Perfection.”

By the time Elphie reaches her hips, Galinda is embarrassingly sensitive. She places a kiss to the base of her cock, and Galinda’s hands clench into fists above her head. Elphie hums in amusement, and even just her breath ghosting over her hot skin has her hips bucking upwards.

Elphie tsks and presses a hand flat against Galinda’s lower stomach. “Stay still, my sweet. And don’t come until I say so.”

Galinda groans. “I’m—I’m not sure how long I’m going to last, to be honest.” She can’t tear her eyes away from the green hand that now moves to wrap around her length.

“I think you can be strong for me,” Elphie says lowly, placing slow kisses from where her hands sits up to the swollen tip. “Don’t you want to be good, darling?”

“Oh, hell and Oz.” She’s dying. Elphie’s going to kill her. The Omega raises an eyebrow, green eyes piercing as she mouths at the side of her cock. “Yes, I’ll—I’ll be good.”

Those beautiful green lips lift into a smirk before parting to wrap around her. Galinda’s whole body tenses with the effort it takes not to immediately bury herself completely in that wet warmth. She grabs onto one of the pillows behind her head to keep from reaching down to her Omega.

She doesn’t have to wait long though; Elphie’s apparently had enough teasing, because she squeezes the base and dips her head down until her lips meet her hand. Galinda throws her head back at the feeling of her tongue. “Fuck, Elphie,” she moans. She feels herself pulsing inside her Omega’s mouth, feels her hips twitching beneath the hand that holds them in place.

Elphie moans around her cock and squeezes the base one more time before removing her hand so she can swallow more of her. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks and bobs her head, sinking lower inch by inch until Galinda can feel herself hitting the back of her throat. Elphie gags for a split second and digs her nails into Galinda’s hips to stabilize herself before taking her even deeper.

Oz, Galinda really isn’t going to last long. Something about the way her Omega takes control is just driving her absolutely wild. Normally, at this point, she’d grab hold of Elphie in some way to ground herself, but not having that option is sending her spiraling.

Elphie swallows, her tongue pressing along the underside of her cock before she takes a long breath through her nose and sinks all the way down. Galinda can feel her throat working around her, swallowing as Elphie adjusts to the intrusion. She sees a couple tears escape Elphie’s eyes as she gags again and—fuck, she’s so fucking close.

“E-Elphie, I don’t—” a whimper cuts her off as her Omega bobs her head up, then back down. “I need to—I can’t—” Oz, she can’t even get a full sentence out. Her vision is tunneling, thighs tensing, fuck she can’t hold it back—

Elphie quickly slides up and off of her cock, leaving it shiny with spit. Galinda moans as the cold air hits her, her hips twitching as her orgasm is denied.

“Don’t you dare,” Elphie says, voice raspy. “Not yet. Okay?”

Galinda takes a deep, shaky breath, closing her eyes for a moment to gather herself. “O-okay,” she says, though she really doesn’t have much faith in herself.

Elphie pushes herself up and crawls so that she’s straddling Galinda’s hips, hovering just above where Galinda needs her the most. “It’s a shame,” she says after clearing her throat. “I wanted to stay down there longer—but I want you to come inside me more.”

“Oh, Oz, Elphie,” Galinda whines. She feels as if she could cry with desperation. If she wasn’t so thoroughly turned on, she’d be very much embarrassed at how quickly she’s become so needy.

Elphaba wraps her hand around the slick shaft and positions herself over the tip, staring into her eyes brazenly as she slowly drops herself down. Galinda gasps, trying with all her might not to thrust upward or, Oz forbid, come instantly. She’s always loved Elphie’s praise, but she’s never craved it quite this much—she wants so, so badly to be good for her Omega.

It is very, very difficult to do so.

Elphie starts by lifting herself up, then dropping down further than before. Galinda holds her breath as she repeats this cycle until she bottoms out, completely filled. They both groan at the sensation. Galinda can’t hold back a thrust of her hips as she’s surrounded in Elphie’s wetness.

Elphaba doesn’t chastise her, but simply starts moving her hips to ride her, leaning forward slightly to press a hand to Galinda’s chest and prop herself up. Galinda’s hands twitch with the urge to pull her down into a kiss, to grab onto those hips and fuck her properly, but she fears Elphie will stop if she does so—and that is definitely the last thing she wants.

“You fill me so well, my sweet,” Elphie says breathlessly as she rides her faster, drops her hips harder against her. “You can—fuck—you can come when I do, okay?”

Oz, Galinda hopes that will be soon; she’s not sure how much more of this she can take. But she nods quickly and gasps out, “Yes—y-yes, ma’am. Fuck...”

Elphie moans loudly and scrapes her nails down Galinda’s chest in response before straightening up. She then leans back slightly, bracing her palms against Galinda’s thighs as she continues to roll her hips. Galinda’s eyes drop down, and she can’t help but stare at the sight of her cock pumping in and out of her Omega, slick dripping down her shaft and making Elphie’s thighs shine.

She can feel herself twitch and bites her lip. “E-Elphie I’m—fuck, I’m close, I can’t—” She’s so close. So close.

Nails dig into her thighs. “Not y-yet, baby,” Elphie warns, slowing her hips to a steady rocking motion before bringing one of her hands to rub at her clit.

Watching doesn’t help matters at all, so Galinda squeezes her eyes shut, desperately trying to stave off her orgasm. But Elphie’s having none of that.

“Look at me,” she says, squeezing Galinda’s thigh again. Galinda whimpers, but doesn’t open her eyes. “Glin.”

Her eyes shoot open at the sound of her pet name said so firmly, and she almost reluctantly looks back to her Omega.

“W-watch me ride you, my love,” Elphie says, walls fluttering around Galinda’s cock. “Just a little longer—y-you can do it.”

Fuck, but she really can’t. Galinda shakes her head, tears falling from her eyes now as she tries so hard to hold back. The sight of her Omega, on top of her, filled with her, flushed and wanting as she touches herself—combined with the actual feeling of being inside her, it’s too much, it’s too much.

But she has to be good.

“Elphie, I can’t, I—” a sob breaks free from her throat, she’s so close, so wet and warm, it’s right there, she’s so fucking close—

“Fuck, Elphie!” Her vision goes white as her hips buck upwards, fists white-knuckling the pillow behind her head as she empties herself into her Omega. She can feel pulse after pulse of cum leave her, spilling inside Elphie as each wave of pleasure washes over her. She doesn’t think she’s ever before had an orgasm so intense outside of her rut.

As her body comes down from her high, Galinda, panting, opens her eyes once more. All at once, she registers the sight of Elphie staring down at her with a raised eyebrow, the stillness of both her hips and the wet walls still surrounding her now-softening—oh. Oh, shit.

Elphie didn’t come. Galinda couldn’t listen, couldn’t be good, and now she’s come without finishing off her Omega.

Her face burnsas a few leftover tears fall from her eyes. She loathes this feeling, like she’s disappointed her Omega, left her unsatisfied. She practically starts babbling, saying, “N-no, I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean—I tried, Elphie, I—”

Elphaba’s expression softens into concern as she leans down. She cups her face and wipes the tears away, shushing her softly before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “It’s alright, my sweet, it’s alright,” she says, pumping out soothing pheromones. She slowly lifts her hips until Galinda slips out of her, drawing a whimper from them both, and then lays her full body weight against her. She peppers kisses all over Galinda’s face and whispers the entire time. “I’m sorry, my love, it’s okay. You’re perfect. My wonderful Alpha. I love you so much.”

It doesn’t take very long for Galinda to calm down, only a few minutes, but she’s definitely a bit embarrassed after the fact. “I’m sorry,” she says in a near-whisper once she feels like she has more of a hold on herself.

“No, no, my love,” Elphie says as she lightly rubs their noses together. “I’m sorry. That was too much, wasn’t it? I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

Galinda bites her lip as she thinks about it all. “It—it was intense, but. Only because I’m so used to taking care of you, I think. I just didn’t want to... disappoint you.”

Elphie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Disappoint me? Galinda, you could never.”

“Well, I mean...” Galinda huffs, blowing strands of blonde hair out of her face as her cheeks burn. “The threat of it—it was part of what I liked, part of what made it so... hot, if I’m being honest,” she confesses. “I just wanted... to be good for you. I... very much enjoyed it. Frankly, I came so hard I think I nearly passed out. You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, darling.”

Elphie breathes out a laugh at that, but her face is still filled with concern, unease. “Here, my sweet, let me—” she goes to untie the scarf around Galinda’s hands.

“No, wait,” Galinda says, pulling her arms up more so that Elphie can’t reach. The questioning gaze directed at her makes her heart skip a beat, but she continues. “Can I—can I taste you? Like this?” She wiggles her hands a bit.

Elphie’s lips part slightly, eyebrows raising as her own cheeks darken as well. “O-oh. Are you sure, sweet?”

Oh, she’s definitely sure. Galinda has to hold back a shiver at the mere thought. If she hadn’t just had one of the best orgasms of her life, she’d probably already be hard again. “Absolutely,” she breathes. “If you’d like that,” she tacks on, tone shifting to tease slightly as she can tell her Omega does like the idea.

Elphie bites her lip and studies her for a moment more, as if trying to make sure Galinda’s serious, but she eventually nods. “Alright.” She sits up and starts scooting her hips up toward Galinda’s face. “Move down a bit for me, love?”

Galinda wiggles herself further down so there’s more space between her head and the headboard, and then her breath hitches as Elphie is suddenly hovering directly over her face.

She’s drenched.

“Oz, Elphie,” she whispers, simultaneously thrilled at the fact that her arms are trapped and wishing that she could grab onto those beautiful green thighs. “All this for me?”

“Yes, well,” Elphie averts her gaze, blush spreading down her neck, “if you recall, I was rather close when I had to stop. And some of it is from you, anyway.”

“Fuck.” As Elphie says that, Galinda watches as a mixture of their cum leaks out of her. She swears her mouth is watering. “Come here,” she says lowly, and Elphie complies.

The taste of her is heavenly, especially combined with the sounds Elphie makes as Galinda’s tongue licks her over. It doesn’t take long before Elphaba collapses forward a bit, thighs shaking where she straddles Galinda. Green hands slide into her own, interlacing their fingers and holding on for dear life as she starts to ride Galinda’s face.

Galinda moans at the combined taste of their cum as she presses her tongue to Elphie’s entrance. The whines her Omega makes as she grinds down against her mouth make her dizzy as her thighs tense. She holds tightly onto Elphie’s hands as she devours her, licking inside her before moving up to wrap her lips around the Omega’s clit. Elphie shudders above her as Galinda sucks and licks at the sensitive nub, each breath releasing a moan or a curse.

“Oz, you’re s-so good, Glin,” Elphie says with a gasp. “Fuck—so good for me, my Alpha.”

Galinda whimpers against her and feels her hips twitch at the praise—and she surprisingly realizes that she’s getting hard again.

“I love your mouth, darling,” Elphie continues. “I want to—to come just like this.” Her voice pitches higher as she gets more desperate.

Galinda can feel the wetness covering her mouth and chin. She isn’t sure when exactly she closed her eyes, but she opens them now to look up at her girlfriend’s flushed face as she rides her. Elphie’s jaw is dropped down and showing that perfect gap between her teeth as her eyebrows pinch upwards. The sight makes Galinda groan as her hips thrust into the air.

That draws Elphie’s attention behind her, and when she looks back down to Galinda, it’s with an awe that makes the Alpha’s heart race. Elphaba removes her hands from Galinda’s own and immediately starts untying the scarf around her wrists. Galinda’s mouth and tongue still in confusion as her face scrunches up, and then Elphie is lifting herself up onto her knees, pulling away from her face.

Before Galinda can ask for her reasoning, though, Elphie says, “Touch yourself, my sweet,” and pushes on her hands.

“Oh, fuck,” Galinda moans before complying, sliding her arms beneath Elphie’s hips until she can hook one under and around a muscular, green thigh. The other hand immediately moves down to wrap around her cock, and as she starts pumping that hand, Elphie settles back down over her mouth.

Galinda licks her Omega’s wet, swollen pussy with abandon, moving back and forth between teasing at her entrance and swirling around her clit. That taste that’s distinctly Elphie floods her mouth, and they both moan together. One hand clutches desperately at Elphie’s thigh as the other slides up and down along her aching dick, still slightly sensitive from coming the first time.

Elphie, no longer able to hold Galinda’s hands for leverage, instead moves one hand to steady herself on the headboard while the other finds purchase in Galinda’s curls. She rambles on above her, saying how much she loves this, how good Galinda is for her, how she wants to come together. Her hips stutter against Galinda’s mouth as she clearly approaches the edge once more.

“S-so good, baby—make yourself come with me, my sweet, my Alpha, I’m so close... d-don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m almost—G-Glin!”

Elphaba coming apart is one of the most beautiful things Galinda’s ever seen; she doesn’t think she’ll ever tire of the sight, and that—combined with the fresh flood of wetness that gushes into her mouth and over her chin, the hand tightening in her hair, a precise squeeze to the base of her cock—is enough to make her come a second time. Galinda sees stars behind her eyelids as the tension rushes up her spine and explodes from her throat in a moan. She feels warmth splash onto her stomach and hand but barely registers it as she focuses on licking up as much of Elphie’s cum as she possibly can. Both of their hips twitch through their respective releases as they ride out their orgasms together.

She doesn’t stop moving her tongue until Elphie pats the top of her head three times. Galinda then releases her hold on the thigh trembling next to her head, and Elphie shakily shifts to move off of her. A green hand passes her a tissue from the nightstand and then comes to rest against her chest as Elphie lies next to her. Galinda wipes the mess of her cum off of her hand and stomach as best as she can. Once she’s cleaned up, she slides an arm underneath her Omega and pulls her close.

Elphie nuzzles the side of Galinda’s face, pressing lazy kisses to her cheek and jaw as she catches her breath. “I love you,” she whispers, “my wonderful Alpha. You did so good for me.”

She sounds completely spent, which only further lifts Galinda’s pride up from the depths to which it had fallen earlier. “I love you,” she says back, turning her head to kiss those perfect green lips. “I love you so much. So, so much.”

Another kiss, and this time Elphie draws it out, makes it slow and languid and licks at her lips until Galinda opens for her. She moans, assumedly at the taste of herself on Galinda’s tongue, and kisses her deeply until she’s satisfied and collapses into Galinda’s neck.

“Oz,” Elphie breathes.

“Just ‘Glinda’ is fine,” Galinda says coyly, receiving a light smack on her chest in return. Galinda can’t help but give a soft chuckle as she gently strokes along her Omega’s back. She hums and pulls her impossibly closer, bringing her other hand up to stroke at the dark braids atop Elphie’s head. “Next time, I get to tie you up,” she murmurs cheekily.

“Mm, whatever you want,” Elphie responds tiredly, nearly melting against the Alpha as she scratches lightly at her scalp.

Galinda chuckles again at the notion that her Omega has temporarily lost the energy usually reserved for arguing. It’s not the same as earlier; this time, there is a very clear reason for why Elphie is so agreeable. Galinda places a kiss to her forehead before nuzzling into her hair. She’ll always love their bickering and banter, but having her Omega slumped against her, fucked and satisfied, has to be one of her favorite feelings in all of Oz.

[rosariopixels]

Chapters: 9/28 I came for Lucanis/Spite and somehow ended up at Viago. 

[samanddean76]

Betting Against The House

What started as nothing more than a quest to avenge the death of his brother Gabriel, led Castiel to become the most prolific assassin to have ever lived. After he succeeded in taking out the head of the Winchester Crime Family, he was taken in by the Novak Syndicate. But Michael began to fear the monster he’d helped create and betrayed Castiel.

Dean knew he held all the power, in possession of a secret that would level the playing field. He knew that toying with the captured assassin might not end well, but he found that he simply couldn’t help himself.

Simple and straightforward went right out the window when Lady Luck got her hands on the brand-new deck of cards. Stacking them, so her favorite Alpha and Omega would have a chance to make all their dreams come true.

Rating: Explicit | Word Count: 15.8k | Pairing: Destiel

I am so thrilled to finally be able to present this story that I created for the Bottom Cas Big Bang to you! And I was fortunate enough to once again be paired up with @alicetallula who created some awesome art for this intriguing story! I hope you all check it out! And hang on for a wild ride that twists and turns right up until the end!

Story: Ao3 | Art: Tumblr | Mature Art: Tumblr

Content Warning: Even though it is set in a Mob AU, the story has non-graphically described Canon-Typical violence.

[rosemaryannethyme]

Thank you Kinktok for letting me know a gender neutral option for “Yes, Sir/Mistress” is “Yes, Chef”

[aventurineswife]

Tame Me With Your Touch

Synopsis: Dominant actions you take that make them weak.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Established Relationship, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Fluff, Romance, Domesticity, Suggestive Content, Manipulation (Psychological), Light Angst, Affectionate Dominance, Emotional Vulnerability, Gentle Domination.

Warnings: Mild Suggestive Themes, Emotional Manipulation, Power Imbalance (in some dynamics), Trauma-Informed Content, Mentions of Survivor's Guilt, Mature Themes, Mentions of Past Betrayals (for Aventurine).

When you take charge without a word, simply commanding attention with your gaze, it renders Aventurine speechless. His normally flawless verbal maneuvers crumble under the weight of your silent dominance, and it sends a thrill through him. That unspoken control makes him weak in the knees, craving to be led and yet always testing the limits.

Aventurine thrives on games, strategy, and calculated moves, but when you take the lead in a slow, methodical way that keeps him on edge, it pushes his boundaries. Whether in a playful debate or a more intimate moment, he’s left paralyzed by your unwavering patience, waiting for your next move with a mixture of eagerness and dread.

Aventurine, often consumed by his schemes and distractions, feels a rush of gratitude and admiration when you handle the mundane details of life—whether it’s cleaning up after him or arranging things just the way he likes it. It shows a level of care he rarely sees, and it makes him feel small in the best way, humbled by your attentiveness.

When you gently but firmly grab his wrist or guide him somewhere with a confident hand, it brings a shiver to his spine. The subtle dominance in your touch renders him helpless, causing his heart to race. It’s not just about physical control; it’s the way your touch signifies a deeper, invisible authority he can’t escape.

When you subtly tease him about his calculating nature, calling out his manipulations in a playful yet dominant tone, it makes him weak in the knees. His usual witty comebacks fall flat as he’s left grappling with the fact that you can read him so effortlessly. It makes him crave your attention even more, wondering how much you really know.

Aventurine is used to being the one pulling the strings, but when you give him a simple order, delivered with the right tone—cool, composed, and unwavering—it leaves him weak and longing for more. Your voice has the power to shift his focus from his complex plans to your singular will, making him surrender without even realizing it.

Sunday’s ethereal, kind demeanor shatters when you issue a quiet but firm command, making him aware of your authority in a way that he never expected. His usual calm and understanding face softens with submission, and his wings tremble slightly, betraying his need to yield to your control. It catches him off guard every time.

You often reassure him with small, gentle acts of affection, like cupping his face or pulling him into your embrace when he's weighed down by his ideals. These quiet displays of care make him feel safe, and the subtle dominance in your actions leaves him weak with longing for a more intimate, grounded connection with you.

When you take the lead in intimacy, gently guiding him and setting the pace, his usually introspective and hesitant nature crumbles. He finds himself lost in the feelings you evoke, utterly consumed by your certainty in contrast to his doubts. It’s the perfect balance of strength and tenderness, leaving him craving more.

Sometimes, it’s the moments when you don’t say anything at all but simply place your hand on his shoulder, guiding him without a word. It makes him feel both cherished and, at the same time, like he is under your complete control—weakening him with the undeniable security you provide.

Sunday enjoys intellectual pursuits, but when you challenge him subtly, pushing him to confront uncomfortable truths or rethink his ideals, it has a powerful effect on him. His usual detached demeanor cracks, and he becomes lost in your presence, feeling both intellectually stimulated and emotionally vulnerable.

Despite being the protector, there are moments when you take on the role of being his shield. Whether it’s through actions or words, you defend him fiercely, and it makes him feel both safe and tenderly cared for. The soft way you assert your dominance in these moments leaves him weak in the knees, torn between admiration and an overwhelming desire to reciprocate.

When you counter his intellectual arguments with sharp wit and an air of effortless confidence, Ratio finds himself momentarily disarmed. His usual arrogance and self-assurance falter, and he’s left reeling by your ability to keep up with him intellectually while subtly maintaining control. It makes him weak in the knees, yearning for your approval and validation.

Despite his brilliance, Ratio isn’t used to others seeing through his carefully constructed façade. When you observe his emotions and call him out with gentle, knowing words, it breaks him down. The vulnerability he tries to hide leaves him weak and introspective, especially when your dominant understanding of his inner world makes him feel seen in ways he rarely allows.

When you take charge in the bedroom, guiding him with gentle yet firm motions, Ratio is overwhelmed by your dominance. His usually calculated demeanor slips away under your confident direction, making him crave more of your control in every aspect of your relationship.

When you lock your eyes onto him, speaking in a calm, commanding voice, he can’t help but focus entirely on you. His brilliant mind can’t escape the weight of your attention, and he is helpless in the face of your unwavering presence. It weakens him in the best possible way, leaving him feeling like a student once more.

Ratio’s confidence is rattled when you assert your dominance in a protective manner, whether it’s defending him in a conversation or physically positioning yourself between him and danger. He’s used to being the intellectual powerhouse, but your assertive protection makes him feel both cherished and vulnerable.

When you lead without saying much—simply guiding the conversation or situation with subtle gestures and a calm voice—Ratio is drawn to your silent strength. Your ability to control a room with nothing more than your presence has him weak in the knees, leaving him in awe of your quiet, unshakable authority.

[akirakirxaa]

FFXIVWrite Prompt 10: Free Day (Shed Part 2)

Rating: E (That's for Explicit, not everyone)

Word Count: 840

Warnings: Explicit sexual content

Summary: Shedding complete, Akira's feeling better and her lovers are determined to help her relax. [Note, this chapter is not complete but I figured I'd submit this portion for the free day. :3 Consider it a sneak peek. Continued from Day 8: Shed. Hyth and Hades Stay AU.]

Master Post

Akira sank down into the hot water of the bath with a sigh until it covered all but the top half of her face, hair still piled on top of her head. She’d had several soaks now, and it had removed most of her dry scales between the treatment that her loves had applied and the hot water working the scales loose. Now her scales fairly gleamed, dark glossy obsidian against the chalky alabaster of her unscaled skin. She ran her thumb across the back of her other hand; the scales were soft and malleable, something that scared her to go to battle with but…that she couldn’t help but feel proud of. For once they weren’t covered in scrapes and scabs from her desperate attempts to get it over with faster.

She sank a little lower, the water lapping over her nose. It rankled a bit that Hades knew better than she how to take care of her own body, but… It wasn’t like it was a fair comparison. While he’d had thousands of years to learn everything about anything, she had a grand total of less than ten years of memories to work with, and less than half of that with any knowledge that she even was auri. Her tail swished behind her, and she flinched as the water sloshed onto the floor.

“Don’t worry, we can just get Hades to clean it up,” Hyth smirked from the doorway, and she gave a small smile in response. “Might I join you?” Akira nodded and backed from the side of the bath to make room. She averted her gaze to try to give him some privacy, but not only did he seem to not particularly want it, she couldn’t quite keep her gaze away. Between furtive glances she couldn't help but appreciate his lean physique, softer than either her or Hades, save for his archer's arms that were all corded muscle. She knew he knew she was looking but, for a blessing, he said nothing, settling into the water next to her, pulling his hair free of its usual braid.

"Your hair's really pretty when you let it down," Akira tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. He smiled.

"You think so? Maybe I should wear it down all the time."

"It looks nice up too," she quickly added, then yelped as he hauled her into his lap, facing him.

"Then perhaps you just think I'm pretty," he teased lightly, and she felt like her face was on fire from the closeness.

"M-maybe I do," she tried to match his tone, but her voice wavered as his hands hooked behind her legs to pull her closer, and she could feel exactly the effect their earlier activities had had on him resting against her thigh. A light scrape of teeth against her horn had her stifling a whimper into his chest, and he chuckled.

"You know, this is allowed, I don't think anyone's going to tell the savior of the star she can't indulge a little," he encouraged, and Akira hesitated just a moment before tilting her head back, carefully minding the sharp points of her horns as her mouth found his throat and mouthed at it with teeth and tongue. The groan he let out at that had her positively aching. He gripped her hips hard and ground against her, a whimper escaping her as he dragged across her clit.

“Did I tell you that you could touch?” A sharp voice interrupted, and Akira, startled, collapsed forward into Hyth’s chest, her hands slipping from his shoulders.

“You also didn’t say that I couldn’t,” she could hear the smirk in Hyth’s voice. Slow footsteps approached the bath before Hades took Hyth by the chin and pulled his face towards him. Akira glanced up to see Hyth giving a supposedly innocent grin. Hades had shed his coat earlier and, now, the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and the very top buttons undone. She swallowed.

“Come now, Hades, doesn’t she deserve a reward for behaving during her treatment?” he purred, and Hades scowled.

“Looks more like to me that you’re rewarding yourself,” he fired back, before giving a snap. Hyth’s arms were pulled behind him and bound in red leylines. Far from looking put out, Hyth seemed pleased with the outcome. “Well, Hero, enjoy yourself.” Hades’ voice deepened to a low purr, trailing one hand up her spine, and she shivered.

“I…I…” she stammered nervously, her mind going blank at the suggestion, as she felt an overwhelming feeling of stage fright. Despite their having stayed with her for some time now, she still wasn’t entirely used to being watched.

“Come now,” his voice rumbled against her horn as he leaned over the two. “Don’t you think you deserve a little reward?” He pressed gently on the small of her back, not hard enough to force her, just enough encouragement. She shivered, bucking forward and drawing a moan out of both herself and Hyth.

And she indulged.

[blankcest]

Frankly i need what Dipper and Tyrone had

I want what Dipper and Tyrone had but sadly I’m built more like Dipper with Dippy Fresh

[lil-bit-louder]

thinking

[faithsmadhouse]

In the pines||Remmick x reader

MDNI+18

Summary—You wake up soaked from a dream you shouldn’t have had—one where Remmick had his fangs in your throat and his cock buried deep inside you. But it wasn’t just a dream. He’s real, watching, waiting… and when he lures you into the woods in the dead of night, there’s no turning back. You’re his. Body, blood, and soul.

SMUT WARNING (18+ only): This is a dark, explicit one-shot featuring Dom!Remmick and a sub!reader. Includes trance/dub-con, voyeurism reference, predator/prey dynamic, biting, bloodplay, venom/aphrodisiac drool, rough sex (doggy style and missionary), overstimulation, chain kink, degradation & praise, multiple orgasms, light breathplay, dirty talk, possessive obsession, and deeply feral energy. Read responsibly.

A/n the was requested by an anon on @ice-man-goes-bwoah

@abriefnirvana @spikeyfearn

The sheets were soaked.

You jolted awake with a strangled gasp, thighs clenched and pulse pounding between your legs. Your skin burned. Your tank top stuck to you with sweat, your panties utterly ruined. The ache in your core throbbed like a bruise.

Dream. You blinked at the ceiling. But it hadn’t felt like a dream.

You could still feel his hands on you.

Remmick.

A laugh, low and cruel, echoed in your skull.

You thought you were safe.

You thought I’d stay away.

You were wrong, darlin’.

Your breath hitched. The air in the room had changed. He was here.

You sat up. The window was open.

Cool wind spilled in from the woods, carrying the scent of moss and smoke and something darker. Your feet hit the floor before your brain caught up. You didn’t grab a coat. You didn’t even put on shoes.

Something in your body needed to find him.

The forest was pitch-black, but you didn’t feel fear. The night air curled around you like fingers, whispering in a voice not quite your own.

You walked deeper. Through brush and root, over moon-drenched patches of stone. The wind spoke.

“Come on, sugar. That’s it. Come find me.”

There was no thought. Only heat, and hunger, and the echo of a dream you were still wet from.

Then he stepped from the shadows.

Remmick.

Tall. He wore a button-up shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, and his suspenders hung down by his waist. His shoes were caked with dirt, and the thin chain necklace swayed around his throat, glinting as he tilted his head. And those eyes—glowing like red hot coals—devoured you.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he drawled, voice deep, lazy, laced with both Southern molasses and something old and Irish, ancient like the woods. “Knew you’d come crawlin’. You’ve been dreamin’ ‘bout me again, haven’t ya, mo grá?”

You swallowed thickly.

“I—”

“Don’t lie. I smelled it. Watched you fuckin’ grind on them sheets like a bitch in heat.”

Your knees buckled. Your thighs trembled.

He was in front of you before you could blink.

“Felt every little whimper through the trees,” he murmured, mouth brushing your ear. “Felt you clenchin’ ‘round nothin’. Cryin’ for me. So I came to see my girl. Thought I’d give you what you needed.”

His hand slid between your thighs. Your panties were soaked through.

“Aw, hell,” he hissed, grin curling sharp. “You are drippin’.”

A growl rumbled in his throat. “Should’a come sooner.”

You gasped as he scooped you up, your back pressed against the nearest tree. Bark scratched your shoulders as his mouth found your neck kissing it and biting marking you.

Once he was satisfied, he yanked back, fingers digging into your cheeks hard enough to bruise. “Open,” he growled.

You obeyed, staring up at him with your mouth wide. Remmick’s lips curled into a wicked grin, a thick string of drool sliding from the corner of his mouth. He leaned in close, breath hot and heavy, and tilted your head back like you were nothing but prey.

Then the venom spilled—slow, deliberate—onto your tongue, thick and burning as it hit your throat. You went limp with a strangled moan. Dazed. Blown open with heat. His saliva slicked your skin, and the world tilted.

“Mm. That’s it. Let go for me, sugar.”

He dropped to his knees and shoved your panties aside with no ceremony.

Then his mouth was on you.

Remmick ate like a starved man, tongue filthy, slow, teasing.

“So goddamn sweet,” he groaned, voice muffled. “Like honey and fuckin’ sin.”

You were writhing, sobbing, grinding helplessly against his face.

One thick finger slid inside you.

Then two.

“Can’t even fuckin’ wait,” he growled, rising to his feet, licking your slick from his lips like a promise. “Need this cunt now.”

He spun you around, bent you over a mossy boulder. You barely caught yourself in time.

“Back arched,” he barked, grabbing your hips. “Ass up. Show me that fuckin’ needy little pussy.”

You whimpered as he shoved his cock against your entrance, teasing.

“Beg.”

“Please, Remmick,” you cried. “Please fuck me—need it—need you—”

SLAP.

A harsh smack to your ass made you jolt.

“Damn right you do.”

And then he was inside.

All the way.

You screamed.

“Fuckin’ tight,” he snarled, rolling his hips. “Grippin’ me like you’re starvin’. You love this, don’t ya?”

You couldn’t speak—only moan, already clenching around him as the first orgasm slammed through you.

“Shit, already?” he barked, feral. “Just like that? Thought I was gonna have to work for it, slut.”

He didn’t slow.

Thrust after brutal thrust, he drove into you like a man possessed. His hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back as he pounded into your soaked cunt from behind.

“You’re my pretty little fucktoy, huh?” he hissed in your ear. “Let me ruin you, sugar. Let me fuckin’ break you.”

Your legs were shaking. You couldn’t breathe.

Then he pressed two fingers to your clit—and you shattered again, sobbing.

He flipped you over onto your back, caging you in the moss.

His eyes were dark now, chain swinging freely over your face as he hovered above you.

“I love watchin’ you like this,” he purred, voice a slurred mix of drawl and brogue. “All wrecked. All mine.”

The chain hit your cheek as he leaned down to kiss you. You moaned around his tongue, tasting venom.

“Open your legs. Wider.”

You obeyed.

“That’s my girl.”

He slammed into you again, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand.

“Count your fuckin’ orgasms,” he growled.

“I—uh—two—”

“Wrong.” He snapped his hips. You cried out. “Three. That one on my tongue? That counted.”

You nodded frantically.

He grabbed your throat, gentle but firm, his grip pulsing as he rutted into you.

“You’re gonna give me seven,” he snarled. “That pretty little pussy can take it. You were made for me. Made to be fucked like this.”

You were sobbing, begging, drooling.

His chain bounced with each thrust, smacking lightly against your lips, your nose, your flushed cheeks.

And then—

He bit you again.

You came with a scream, body spasming under his weight.

“That’s four, sugar,” he growled, licking your blood from his lips. “Ain’t stoppin’ ‘til you’re gushin’.”

You lost count.

You came until your thighs shook violently, until you were clawing at his back, until your voice was hoarse from screaming his name.

He praised you. He degraded you.

“Such a good slut for me.”

“Dumb little hole, just made for cock.”

“You’re so perfect when you cry.”

“Mine. All mine.”

When he finally came, it was with a deep growl and his fangs buried in your throat. He spilled inside you, marking you, biting hard enough that you saw stars.

You were boneless, trembling, completely ruined.

He stayed on top of you for a while, pressing kisses to your bloodied throat.

“You ain’t ever gonna dream ‘bout no one else now,” he whispered, voice soft and possessive. “I’m in your fuckin’ blood, darlin’.”

You blinked up at him, dazed and wrecked.

He smiled.

“Good girl.”

[houseofaegon]

Ruined ✩ Bob Reynolds

Pairings: Dom!Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolts Teammate!Reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. no use of y/n. secret hookups, armory sex, unprotected p in v, praise kink, power play, slight sub!bob energy but make it neeeedddyyyyy and feral, desperate!bob, dominant!reader, interrupted sex, yelena being yelena, begging, orgasm denial (sort of), overstimulation, dirty talk.

Summary: The Thunderbolt's press tour is a fucking disaster—Valentina's controlling, the team’s a mess, and Bob Reynolds looks at you like he’s one second away from losing his mind. When you catch him pacing the armory alone, you take what you want. But when you tell him to stay quiet and be good... Bob doesn’t stay quiet. And he definitely doesn’t stay good.

Word count: ~4k

Author's note: need bob reynolds to absolutely destroy me. can't even think or breathe cause he's taking up space in my mind. living in my head rent free and i am not complaining. I'm loooovvvinnnggg these two so much, might make more shots with them cause what the hell???? the dynamic thooooo!!! love me some dom and sub bob <3333333 he's so babygirl i can't take it anymore. if you want to be added to my tag list just comment! <3

masterlist.

"Quiet, Bob."

The words came out as a whisper, but the threat in them made Bob Reynolds shiver under your touch. His back hit the cold armory wall with a clang, head tilting back, mouth already parted on a moan. His shirt was god knows where—somewhere between the racks of rifles and dusty, outdated StarkTech. Your mouth was on his, tongue sliding deep, fingers fisting his curls like you needed an anchor. And Bob? He was already halfway gone.

It had been a long, brutal week.

Valentina had decided that the Thunderbolts—the shiny New Avengers—needed a rebranding for a more "palatable" public. And what better way than a grueling, nonstop, goddamn press tour?

You were paraded like collectibles. Forced smiles. Posed photos. Tactical suits are tailored to make you look sleek. Heroes for the modern age, like she'd said.

Like a fucking boy band.

You were all lined up and put on display like action figure dolls.

"Smile for the cameras," she'd coo, pacing in front of you like a general inspecting her soldiers. "We're selling salvation, not trauma. Wipe that frown off your face, Bucky."

Bucky didn’t even flinch. Just stared through her, arms crossed, his metal hand twitching like it wanted to be anywhere else. Or wrapped around her throat.

Valentina didn’t stop there.

“You,” she snapped at you during the third press op, finger jabbing the air like it might actually hit you. “Need to look grateful, sweetheart. Do you know what I’m paying to make you likable? Not that you aren’t—you’re a doll, really—but come on now, you have to stop glaring at the children like you want to throw them into traffic.”

It was all bullshit. She’d even made Bob do interviews. Bob, whose voice cracked anytime someone looked at him too long.

Yelena had muttered something in Russian that was definitely a curse and didn't even try to smile.

Alexei had laughed too loudly during a morning show segment that made the host flinch, and a lighting rig tripped over.

Ava vanished in the middle of a red carpet appearance—literally phased through the floor and didn’t return for hours.

Walker kept trying to one-up Bucky in interviews. "Sure, Barnes is a legend," he'd say, clapping his shoulder, "but some of us chose to be heroes."

Of course, you snorted a little bit too loud. Loud enough for the mic to catch it. Loud enough for Walker to glare at you and Bucky to smirk.

And Mel? Poor Mel had to endure Valentina's bickering, forcing all of you to pose for pictures while muttering apologies like there was no tomorrow.

You were the first one to be asked for solo shots in the new tactical gear.

"Just a few poses," Valentina said, flashing a big, bright PR smile. "You wear it so well. We want something sleek. Powerful. Sexy, but not, like, thirst trap sexy, you know?"

You didn't miss the way Bob watched. He didn't say a word; he barely moved. But his eyes? They devoured you. Dark, wide, hungry. Like he was seconds from losing it in front of everyone.

Later that day, you'd found him in the dark armory, pacing like a caged animal. Shoulder tense. Breathing shallow.

So you pushed him up against the wall. Fist in his hair. Mouth on his.

And now—

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he growled against your lips, teeth grazing. His hands were gripping your hips tightly, grinding against you, still half-covered by his pants but already leaking, already thick and throbbing for you. “The way you looked in that suit—I couldn’t fucking breathe.”

You rolled your hips against his, slow and punishing. “You could’ve said something.”

“I could’ve snapped.” He laughed, breathless, voice fraying. “I nearly did.”

He didn't even make it to the bench.

By the time you shoved him down, Bob was already panting, pupils blown, knees buckling. He hit the floor with a groan, legs spread, cock heavy and flushed. You were on him in seconds—knees framing his hips, hands pressing down on his chest, owning him.

You thanked God for wearing a dress.

He didn't even see your panties come off. Just blinked and they were gone, tossed somewhere on the floor. His pants already shoved down far enough, his cock already free.

He looked up at you like you were something holy. Divine. Dangerous. Like he'd beg to be burned if it meant you kept touching him like this.

Then you reached between you, lined him up, and sank down in one thrust. He filled you up completely.

Bob swore, loud and wrecked—“Fuckfuckfuck—” his head hit the floor, back arching, eyes wide and pleading.

“God, you feel so fucking good—tight—perfect—I can’t—”

You clapped your hand over his mouth.

“Quiet, Bob.”

He whimpered behind your palm. His hands were everywhere—your hips, your ass, your thighs—like he didn’t know what to hold onto first.

You started to move—fast and rough, giving neither of you time to adjust. You didn’t want slow. Didn’t want sweet. You wanted to feel it. The way he stretched you open, filled every inch, the way his cock hit deep, perfect with every thrust.

Bob moaned into your palm, loud and choked and shameless. His hips bucked up hard, matching your rhythm, chasing every thrust like he couldn’t help himself. His grip on your ass tightened, spreading you wider for him, pulling you down harder.

Your name spilled from his lips again and again, muffled and wrecked.

“You’re so—fuck,—you’re so perfect—need this for so fucking long. I can't even fucking think when you're on me like this—God, yesssss"

You leaned down, dragging your lips along his jaw.

“You like being under me like this?”

He nodded, feverish, muffled praise tumbling behind your hand.

“Mhm—yes—fuck, please—you don’t know what you do to me,” he breathed against your palm, words falling out between gasps. “Been thinking about this—every night—every time you walked past in that suit, I wanted to fall to my knees—wanted to ruin you or be ruined, didn’t even fucking care—just needed you.”

You grinned, filthy and pleased. “And now you’re ruined under me.”

He whined, hips snapping up with such force that it knocked a loud moan right out of you.

“You feel that?” you gasped, rolling your hips in a slow, dragging circle. “That’s how deep you are. You’re so deep, Bob. I can feel you so deep inside me. God—you feel so fucking good."

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he moaned, eyes blown wide, hands gripping your thighs like a man drowning. “Such a good girl. God, you take me so fucking well—look at you—riding me like I belong to you—”

“You do,” you growled, dragging your nails down his chest. “You’re mine right now. You hear me?”

“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes, fuck—yours—always—please god don’t fucking stop—”

You clapped your hand over his mouth again, smirking down at him.

“Quiet, Bob. Don't you dare fucking come until I tell you to."

He whimpered behind your palm, body trembling, trying so hard to behave, to stay still, to not fall apart completely under your touch. But you kept moving—fast, hard, relentless. Your thighs burned. His cock throbbed deep inside you with every stroke.

And just when he was seconds away from breaking—

Hiss. The door slid open.

“Oh my fucking god.”

Yelena’s voice hit like a bullet.

You froze. Bob’s eyes flew open, pure panic, still fully inside you.

Yelena stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide, hand flying to her face but only half-covering her view.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered. “The armory? Are you both deranged? This is where we keep weapons, not—whatever the hell this is.”

Bob let out a muffled moan under your hand, utterly betrayed by his body.

Yelena pointed without looking. “Oh my god, this can't be happening. You’re—on top of him. And he’s—Jesus Christ, Bob!”

“Yelena!” you snapped, glaring over your shoulder.

“Alright, alright!” She held up both hands, backing away. “I’ll leave you to your... deep reconnaissance.” She snorted. “Real in-depth work going on here.”

“Yelena! GET OUT!”

“Leaving! Leaving!” she laughed, ducking out as the door hissed shut again. “Just make sure no one ends up disarmed.”

Your heart was still pounding when the door slid shut again, sealing Yelena—and her mouth—on the other side. You didn’t move, still straddling Bob, still full of him, flushed and breathless.

“You okay?” you asked, teasing, one brow raised. “She didn’t scar you for life, did she?”

Bob’s chest was heaving beneath you. He blinked up at you. Something shifted in his eyes.

“No,” he said—low, steady. Then, with startling force, he sat up.

“Bob—?”

His hands gripped your waist, hard. The next second, you were on your back, sprawled across the cool floor, his body covering yours. He was still inside you. Still rock hard. Still throbbing.

“You tease me like that,” he growled, voice rough and frayed, “and expect me to behave?”

Your breath hitched.

“You told me to be quiet. Told me not to come.”

His mouth was at your throat now, kissing, biting, breathing heat against your skin.

“You think I’m gonna ask again?”

You clawed at his back, nails dragging over sweat-slick skin.

“Bob—”

“No,” he snapped, thrusting hard. You gasped, your back arching off the floor. “You don’t get to be in charge now.”

He fucked into you like a man possessed—deep, fast, relentless. All the praise from before was gone, replaced by low, hungry grunts and the sound of skin on skin.

“You wanted this,” he hissed against your ear. “Wanted me like this. Loud. Messy. Mine.”

You moaned, wrapping your legs around him, trying to pull him deeper, and he gave it to you—over and over again.

“You feel that?” he growled, pounding into you. “That’s not deep. This—this is deep.”

You couldn’t even form words. Just gasps. Moans. Scratches across his back.

And he loved it.

He didn’t stop until you were shaking, whimpering beneath him, your control shattered.

He leaned in, panting against your cheek, his voice a rough whisper.

“Now tell me who’s fucking ruined.”

taglist ⊱☆⊰ @notreallythatlost @mandoalorian @urfavfakeblonde @sunday-bug @ruexj283 @mylifeofcalculatedchaos

[edenarchives]

♯┆𝐅𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 .ᐟ — 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: After one unforgettable shoot with Bakugo, you’re left unable to finish with anyone else—on or off camera. He’s the only one who’s ever made it real. When you run into him at a party, the sexual tension explodes, leading to a filthy, passionate reconnection that neither of you can shake.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MATURE CONTENT 18+ Explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), face riding, fingering, public sex, overstimulation, squirting, rough sex, degradation + praise, light dom/sub dynamics, breeding kink references, creampie, soft aftercare, strong language, alcohol mention, sex industry themes.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 8.2k (omg)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

You haven’t cum in weeks.

Not on set. Not in the shower. Not with the $300 vibrator your manager sent as a “self-care” gift. Not even with that one video you shot with Keigo—the one that used to always do the trick.

Nothing works anymore.

Every orgasm you fake now feels like a cheap knockoff. Just muscle memory. Fake moans, fake trembling, fake gasps as the camera zooms in on your face like it’s catching something real. You used to be good at this—great, actually. Made your name off it. You could sell pleasure better than anyone. But now?

Now it’s all broken.

Because Katsuki Bakugo had the audacity to actually make you finish. Not once. Not twice. But over and over until your voice was hoarse and your legs wouldn’t stop shaking. And the worst part wasn’t even how good it felt—it was how real it was. He didn’t just make you come, he pulled it out of you. Like he knew exactly what buttons to press, what noises made you unravel, what rhythm would keep you teetering right on that edge. And then he’d tip you over it like it was nothing.

And ever since then?

Every other guy has felt like cardboard. Even the good ones. Even the pros. You tried not to be obvious about it on set, but your heart’s not in it. Your body’s not either. You’re back to acting, and that just makes it worse. Because now you know what it’s like to actually feel it. To lose control. To not have to fake it.

He ruined you.

And you hate him for it.

Kind of.

Maybe.

You dream about him. That same low, hungry growl in his voice. The weight of his hands on your thighs. The way he looked at you after the cameras cut, like he knew. Like he’d figured you out and wasn’t gonna let you forget it.

And you haven’t.

You still haven’t.

Which is why this fucking party is the last place you want to be.

You stand outside the mansion in heels that and a dress that hugs you like sin, arms crossed and jaw clenched. Your manager’s text is still glowing on your lock screen:

Be nice. Good networking. Smile.

Yeah, whatever.

Keigo’s place is massive. Of course it is. He’s been in the industry since forever, and he’s got that kind of charm that makes people want to party with him. His invite list is basically the who’s who of adult film, plus a few influencers trying to act like they belong. You hate these things. Too loud. Too fake. Everyone pretending to be friends, pretending they don’t judge each other for who they’ve worked with or how many followers they have. It’s all for show.

Still, you walk in. You know how to play the game.

The place is packed. Low red lighting makes everything look softer, sexier. Music pulses through the floor, the bass low and smooth. You’re barely through the front door before someone offers you a glass of champagne. You take it and downs half in one go.

A few people wave at you. A few others eye you up and down, probably checking who you came with. You fake a smile, offer a nod, and keep moving. You’re not here to socialize. You’re not here to flirt or network or play nice.

You’re here because your manager told you to be.

You end up leaning against the edge of a fancy-ass velvet couch, letting the music drown out your thoughts. The champagne doesn’t help much. Neither does the way some guy you vaguely recognise is trying to start a conversation with you, talking about some upcoming project and how “you should totally collab.” You tune him out.

And that’s when it happens.

You feel it before you sees it. Like something in the air shifts. Like static on your skin.

Your spine straightens. Your fingers tighten around the glass.

And then—there he is.

Across the room. Leaning against the wall like he owns the place. Dressed in black, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, rings glinting on his fingers. Blonde hair messy in that perfect, careless way. His eyes scan the crowd, bored and sharp all at once.

And then they land on you.

The breath catches in your throat. For a second, the music fades. The party disappears. It’s just him.

Bakugo.

His eyes narrow just slightly. Like he’s surprised to see you here. Like he’s not surprised that you look this good.

He pushes off the wall.

Starts walking.

Right toward you.

Your heart is beating way too fast. You hate that it is. You want to look away. Pretend you don’t care. But you can’t.

Because even now—especially now—your body remembers exactly what he did to you. The way he touched you. The way he looked at you. Like he wasn’t playing a part. Like it was real.

And worse—you know he remembers, too.

He stops in front of you. Doesn’t say anything at first. Just look’s at you.

Up close, he looks even better than you remembers. Like he’s been working out more. Like he hasn’t lost a second of sleep over you even though you haven’t stopped losing it over him.

“Didn’t think you’d be here,” he says finally, voice low and scratchy.

“Didn’t think you’d be,” you shoot back, arms still crossed. Your tone is cool, but your pulse is sprinting.

He smirks. That same damn smirk that used to drive you crazy. Still does.

“Keigo dragged me,” he says. “Said it’d be good to ‘be seen.’ Whatever the fuck that means.”

“Sounds familiar.”

You stand there in silence for a second. The air between you is thick. Heavy. Loaded.

He tilts his head slightly, eyes drifting down to the drink in your hand. “You good?”

“Peachy.”

“Mm.”

Another pause.

Then he leans in—just a little.

“You fake it again today?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitches. You hate that he knows. Hate that he’s right.

You don’t answer.

He chuckles under his breath. Not mean. Just… smug. Like he knew it. Like he never had a doubt.

“I did,” you admit finally, voice tight.

He steps in just a little closer. Not touching you. Not yet. But you can feel the heat coming off him. The way his presence wraps around you like a damn trap.

“You try with someone else yet?”

You swallow hard. Your eyes flick away.

He already knows the answer.

“No one’s been good enough, huh?” he murmurs.

You wants to slap him. Or kiss him. Or both.

Instead, you down the rest of her champagne in one go.

He watches you the whole time.

Still smirking.

Still standing way too close.

“Why are you here, Bakugo?” You asks, voice low.

His eyes drop to your lips. Then back up.

“Maybe I missed you.”

He says it so casually.

Maybe I missed you.

Like it’s no big deal. Like he hasn’t completely wrecked your life and walked away with a goddamn smirk.

You set your empty glass down, not caring where it lands. Your heart’s still hammering in your chest, but it’s not nerves—it’s need. Hot and bitter and building in your gut like it’s been waiting for this exact moment.

You don’t look away. Don’t soften. You just say it—because fuck it. What’s the point in pretending anymore?

“I haven’t cum since you.”

His smirk falters. Just a little. But enough.

“I’m serious,” you add, stepping closer, voice low. “Nothing works. Not my hands. Not toys. Not other guys. I film a scene and fake it like always, but it’s worse now. So much worse. Because now I know what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Bakugo’s jaw tenses. His hands curl slightly at his sides, like he’s holding himself back.

You lean in, close enough that your words are only for him.

“You ruined me.”

His breath comes out sharp. Controlled—but barely.

“You think I don’t know that?” he mutters. “You think I haven’t been fuckin’ losing it, thinking about that day?”

He looks down at you, eyes dark and burning.

“You were the best thing I ever had in front of a camera. Fuck—probably the best I’ve ever had, period.”

Your stomach flips. Heat flashes under your skin.

“Every time I close my eyes,” he goes on, voice getting rougher, “I see you. Bent over, whimpering, beggin’ for it. You remember that? The way you sounded?”

You swallow, throat tight.

He leans down, lips brushing just behind your ear.

“Do you remember how wet you were when I spread you open?” he whispers. “How your thighs were shaking so bad I had to hold you down?”

Your knees nearly buckle. You grip the edge of the couch behind you, the only thing keeping you upright.

“I remember,” you breathe. “I can’t stop remembering.”

His nose grazes your jaw, not quite touching your mouth, but close enough that the air feels electric between you.

“I jerked off to that shoot so many times I lost count,” he says. “Watched it back with the volume turned all the way up. Had to bite my fuckin’ fist just to keep quiet.”

Your thighs press together. Everything in you is throbbing.

“I tried,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “I tried to fuck it out. Tried to touch myself. Tried to forget it.”

Bakugo pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes heavy, lips parted.

“And?”

You shake your head slowly. “Didn’t work.”

His chest rises and falls a little faster now. You can see it. Feel it.

“I need you,” you say, honest and raw and a little unhinged. “Not even just your cock—you. The way you touched me. The way you talked to me. My body remembers you like muscle memory.”

He groans, low and quiet, like it slips out without his permission.

“You know what that does to me?” he mutters. “Hearin’ you say that? Standin’ here in that tight little dress, legs pressed together like you’re already aching for it?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

“You want me to remind you what it feels like?” he asks, stepping in close again. His hand hovers near your hip, not touching, but so close. “Want me to bend you over that couch right now and make you scream my name again?”

Your breath shudders out of you.

“You want me to tell you all the things I’d do to you if we weren’t in the middle of this fuckin’ party?”

You nod. Slow. Deliberate.

“Say it.”

You look up at him, eyes sharp. “I want you to ruin me again.”

His control shatters for half a second. His tongue runs across his teeth. His hands twitch at his sides like they’re desperate to grab you.

“You want my fingers down your panties, feelin’ how wet you are just from talking to me?”

“Yes.”

“You want my mouth on your neck while I tell you how I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll forget every other name you’ve ever moaned?”

“Yes,” you whisper, voice wrecked.

“You wanna know what I’d do to you if I dragged you into one of those empty rooms upstairs?”

“Tell me.”

He leans in again, mouth right at your ear, his breath hot and filthy.

“I’d eat your pussy until your legs give out. I’d make you ride my face until you’re crying. And then I’d bend you over the bed and ruin that tight little cunt all over again. No cameras. No crew. Just you, screamin’ my name into the pillow like you need me.”

You whimper. Actually fucking whimper. Your knees almost give out.

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes again, and his voice drops to a growl.

“Tell me to stop, or I’m taking you upstairs right now.”

Your eyes burn into his.

“I’m not telling you shit.”

He grabs your wrist—gently, but with purpose—and starts walking.

The music fades behind you as you two leave the main room, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, warm and rough and so sure. It’s not forceful—never forceful—but it’s firm. Intentional. Like he knows exactly where he’s taking you, and you’re not even thinking about stopping him.

You follow.

Of course you follow.

The air in the hallway is cooler, quieter. Dim lights line the walls, casting long shadows, the bass of the party now just a distant thump behind closed doors. Every step echoes in your ears. Your heels click against the tile, but you barely hear them. All you can feel is his hand. His grip. The burn of his touch where your skin meets.

He’s walking fast. Focused. Like he’s barely holding himself together.

But then—he pauses.

Right in the middle of the hallway, without a word, he stops. Still holding your wrist, but frozen in place.

And then he looks back at you.

And fuck.

Your cheeks are flushed, eyes wide and glassy with heat. Your lips are parted, and you’re biting the bottom one like you don’t even realize it. Your breath is shallow. Your chest rises and falls way too fast. And you look—

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

It just hits him all at once.

The image of you like that—flushed, dazed, following him willingly down some dim hallway in a dress that barely covers your ass. Your mouth red from chewing on your lip, eyes shining like you want to be devoured.

It’s too much.

It’s way too much.

Bakugo turns around in one sharp move and pushes your back against the wall.

You gasp, more out of surprise than anything, and your back hits the cool plaster with a soft thud.

He doesn’t give you time to speak.

His mouth is on yours before you can breathe.

It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s a claim.

His lips crash into yours like he’s starved. Like he’s been dying for this. His other hand finds your waist, squeezing tight, pulling you flush against him until there’s not an inch of space left between your bodies.

And fuck, you melt.

You kiss him back with just as much heat, fingers curling into the front of his shirt, tugging him closer like you want to climb inside him. His mouth moves against yours with wild precision—like he knows exactly what you need and he’s giving it. All tongue and teeth and soft, filthy groans that vibrate against your lips.

His hand slips down to your hip, gripping tight. Your back arches. You moan into his mouth when his tongue brushes yours, and he growls—a low, guttural sound that sends heat straight between your thighs.

He pulls back for just a second, breathing hard.

“Been wantin’ to do that since the fuckin’ shoot,” he mutters, voice rough and wrecked.

You grab his shirt tighter, dragging him back in.

“Then shut up and do it again.”

And he does.

He kisses you like he needs it to survive. Like your mouth is the only thing that’s going to keep him sane. His hand slides up, fingers brushing under the edge of your dress, just a taste of skin, and you gasp into his mouth. He swallows the sound greedily.

Right now, it’s just him and you and all that fucking need you’ve both been drowning in for weeks.

Your hands are in his hair now, tugging, and he groans like you’re driving him insane. His lips trail down to your jaw, your neck, kissing and biting and licking like he wants to leave a mark—something real. Something that says mine.

“You feel that?” he growls against your skin, grinding his hips against yours. “That’s what you fuckin’ do to me.”

You whimper.

“You think I haven’t been aching for this? You think I don’t wake up hard, pissed off, because it’s not you under me?”

“Bakugo—”

“Say it,” he growls. “Say you missed me.”

“I missed you,” you breathe. “So fucking much.”

He grabs your face, tilts it up, and kisses you again. Harder. Deeper.

He’s losing it. Right here, in the middle of some stupid hallway, with your hands on his chest and your mouth so fucking soft and perfect under his.

Fuck he was gonna wait. He really was.

One more hallway, maybe two. Find a room, lock the door, throw you on the bed and wreck you the way you’ve been dreaming about. But then his hand drifts lower, just a little. Just enough to feel the hem of your dress under his fingers. His palm slides up, slow and sure, bunching the fabric higher and higher until—

He groans. Loud. Filthy. Like it physically hits him.

“No fuckin’ panties?”

You flinch, just a little. Lips parted, eyes dark.

“Were you expecting something to happen tonight, baby?” he breathes, voice thick with heat. “You showin’ up like this just for me?”

You don’t answer.

You don’t have to.

Bakugo presses his forehead to yours for a second, breathing hard.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, voice low and ragged. “You’re my dirty little whore, aren’t you?”

You whimper.

“You come to this party all dressed up, no fuckin’ panties, already wet for me…”

His hands are on your thighs now, spreading them just a bit. Your backs against the wall, breathing like you just ran a mile.

“You wanted this,” he growls. “You needed this.”

And then—he drops to his knees.

Just like that.

Right there in the middle of the hallway.

The air leaves your lungs in a gasp. Your back hits the wall harder this time, legs shaking, heart pounding in your throat.

“Bakugo—” you hiss, panic in your voice. “Someone could see—!”

He looks up at you, eyes dark and fucking wild.

“Baby,” he says, voice calm and sinful. “You’re a pornstar.”

He licks his lips.

“Let them see.”

And then he’s between your thighs.

One of your legs stays planted on the ground, barely holding you up. The other—he lifts and hooks it over his shoulder, gripping tight behind your knee with one hand, keeping you open for him. Exposed. Spread. His other hand pins your hip to the wall like he’s afraid you’ll float away.

Then—

Then his mouth is on you.

He groans the second he tastes you, like he’s been dreaming of this moment. Like the taste of you is everything he’s been starving for. His tongue is hot and greedy, licking through your folds, lips sealing around your clit as he sucks, hard, and you cry out, hand flying to his hair for balance.

“F-fuck—Bakugo—”

He growls against your pussy, the vibration shooting up your spine like lightning.

“Been thinkin’ about this pussy every fuckin’ day,” he mutters between licks. “You taste even better than I remembered.”

Your head falls back against the wall with a soft thud, mouth open, chest heaving. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. All you know is his mouth—his tongue flicking and licking and circling your clit just right, dragging slow, wet moans from your throat that you couldn’t fake if you tried.

His fingers dig into the back of your thigh, holding you still. Your other leg trembles, barely keeping you upright. Your dress is bunched around your waist, forgotten, as he devours you like a man possessed.

“You hear yourself?” he growls, voice muffled against your soaked cunt. “You hear how fuckin’ wet you are?”

“Y-yes—fuck—”

He flattens his tongue against your clit and drags it, slow and firm, and you nearly collapse.

“You gonna cum for me like this, baby?” he asks, licking up your slit, tongue dipping in like he wants to taste every part of you. “Gonna make a fuckin’ mess on my face?”

You’re nodding, eyes wide, lips parted in silent gasps. Your hand’s gripping his hair so tight it must hurt, but he doesn’t care. He loves it.

“Thought about this every night,” he mutters. “Me on my knees. You fallin’ apart. No cameras. No crew. Just me eatin’ you out like it’s the only thing I’m good at.”

And it is.

God, it fucking is.

Your thighs are shaking. Your stomach’s tight. You’re right there, and he knows it.

So he goes harder.

Sucks on your clit like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, tongue flicking fast and filthy, relentless. Your legs nearly give out.

You scream his name.

And then you’re gone.

Your orgasm hits like a truck, ripping through your body as you cry out, nails digging into his scalp. Your leg twitches in his grip, your body writhing against the wall as you cum for the first time in weeks—for real.

Bakugo doesn’t stop. Not until he’s sure you’re done. Not until he’s sucked you through every last wave, tongue gentle now, soft little licks that make you squirm from the sensitivity.

He pulls back, panting.

His chin’s shiny. His lips are swollen.

And he looks fucking proud.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You taste like fuckin’ heaven.”

You can’t speak. Can barely breathe. Your legs are jelly, your face flushed, your dress still hiked around your hips.

And he’s still on his knees.

Looking up at you like he owns you.

Like he always has.

You’re still trembling.

One leg weak, back still pressed to the wall, dress bunched around your hips and mouth parted in a breathless, wrecked little gasp. Your head’s spinning, body soaked in sweat and pleasure, but it’s not enough. Not for him.

Bakugo stays on his knees for a second longer, just staring up at you like he’s watching the aftermath of his own destruction—and loving every second of it. His jaw’s tight, eyes wild, chest rising and falling with every ragged breath.

Then he moves.

He rises slowly, all smooth, deliberate heat, and crowds you against the wall again, towering over you. His hand slips behind your neck and pulls you in, and his mouth crashes into yours—hot and messy, all tongue and teeth and need.

You moan into it. Loud. Desperate.

He doesn’t give a shit if anyone hears.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, making you taste herself. He kisses you like a man obsessed, like he needs you in his lungs to fucking breathe. His hands are everywhere—sliding over your hips, your ass, up your back, gripping tight like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you all over again.

“You feel what you do to me?” he growls against your lips.

You whimper when his hips roll into yours, and fuck—he’s hard. So fucking hard it feels like it’s about to tear through his pants. Thick and heavy and ready, pressed right up against your soaked heat.

Your whole body jolts at the contact, and suddenly something shifts in you.

You’re not just trembling anymore—you’re burning. You grabs him by the front of his shirt and pushes off the wall, stumbling forward on shaky legs.

“Where’s the room?” You pant.

He grins, drunk on the sound of you.

“End of the hall. Second door.”

You don’t even wait.

Bakugo catches your wrist again as you try to walk, sees your knees still unsteady, and without saying a word—he scoops you up. Hands under your thighs, body flush to his, carrying you like you’re light as air.

You gasp. “I can walk—!”

He growls, “Don’t care.”

He carries you like you weigh nothing, like you belongs in his arms. Your legs are still trembling from the orgasm he just pulled out of you in the hallway, but your hands never stop moving—gripping his shoulders, playing with the hair at the back of his neck, dragging your lips along his jaw just to feel him shiver.

He kicks open the door, steps inside, and shoves it shut with his foot. The lock clicks.

He sets you down—not on the bed. He pins you against the wall again, just for a second, breathing hard, eyes locked on yours. His hands are all over you, sliding down your body, squeezing your hips like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re real.

And you’re looking up at him with that same fucked-out, fire-in-your-veins look that’s been haunting his dreams since your shoot.

And then—slowly—you start to sink to your knees.

His breath catches.

“Wait,” he mutters, chest heaving, “you—fuck—what’re you—”

You’re already looking up at him through your lashes, fingers tugging his belt loose with quick, desperate movements.

“You ruined me,” you say, voice low and dangerously sweet. “Let me return the favor.”

Bakugo swears under his breath as you pull his cock free—hard and leaking, twitching in your grip. Your fingers wrap around him, slow and teasing, and he shudders.

And then your mouth is on him.

“Fucking hell,” he chokes out, his hand flying to your hair, not pushing, just holding, gripping tight like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

Your lips wrap around the head, tongue swirling in slow, wet circles, tasting him like you’ve been waiting for this moment since the second the cameras cut. You slide down his length, inch by inch, until your lips are stretched around him and your throat is already working to take more.

“Jesus fuck, baby—”

His voice is raw. Wrecked. You moan around him and his hips jerk.

“Just like that,” he groans, jaw tight. “That’s it. My perfect fuckin’ mouth.”

You hum, sending vibrations through him that almost make his knees buckle. Your hand strokes what you can’t fit, your spit coating him, dripping down your wrist. You’re relentless—pulling off to lick the tip, spit pooling on your tongue before you sink back down again.

Bakugo’s head hits the wall behind him with a soft thud. His eyes flutter shut, mouth open, breathing hard.

“You know what you fuckin’ do to me?” he growls, voice shaking. “You know how many nights I’ve jerked off thinking about you like this?”

You pull off, slowly, dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock as you go.

“Tell me,” you whisper.

He grabs your jaw, tilts your face up toward him, cock resting against your cheek.

“I’d picture this mouth every fuckin’ time,” he breathes. “Your lips all shiny, tongue out, eyes begging. Just like this.”

You moan and take him back into your mouth deep, throat fluttering around him, and he loses it. His hand tightens in your hair as his hips stutter forward, fucking into your mouth once, twice—then forcing himself to stop.

“Fuck—stop,” he groans, pulling you off with a shaky hand, even though it kills him. “Gonna blow if you keep that shit up.”

Your lips are swollen, spit dripping down your chin, eyes glazed and smug.

“Good,” you purr.

He yanks you up off the floor and spins you, pushing your back toward the bed.

“You wanna ruin me?” he growls, voice low and filthy. “Let’s see if that pretty little cunt can finish the job.”

He manhandles you onto the bed like he owns it.

Like he owns you.

You land on your back, dress still hiked up around your waist, thighs spread open without shame. Your chest is heaving, lips wet, eyes locked on him like he’s the only thing you see.

And fuck—he might as well be.

Bakugo shrugs off his shirt in one smooth pull, muscles flexing, abs on full display, veins in his arms popping from how hard he’s holding himself back. His cock’s still out, thick and leaking, twitching with every step closer.

“You sit there lookin’ like that,” he growls, crawling up onto the bed, “and expect me to take it slow?”

You grin. Daring. “I don’t expect you to do anything except ruin me.”

He laughs—dark and mean—and grabs your ankles, dragging you down the bed until your ass is right at the edge, legs hanging off, wide open for him.

“You’re fuckin’ insane,” he mutters.

And then he’s on you.

One hand hooked under your knee, pushing it back toward your chest, the other lining himself up. His eyes are locked on your soaked cunt like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. The tip of his cock brushes your entrance, and you both moan.

“You feel that?” he mutters, dragging it through your folds, teasing your clit. “You’re fuckin’ dripping for me.”

“Need you,” you gasp, already trembling again. “Bakugo, please—”

“Please what?” he growls, leaning over you, tip just barely nudging inside. “Say it.”

“Please fuck me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

He slams into you in one deep, smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches off the bed, mouth open in a silent scream as he stretches you—thick and deep and perfect.

Bakugo groans, eyes rolling back. “Fuck—this pussy missed me, huh?”

“Yes—fuck yes—”

He pulls back and thrusts again, harder this time, making the bed creak under you.

“I can feel it,” he pants. “The way you’re squeezing me. Your cunt’s starving for it.”

His pace builds—relentless, deep, every thrust angled just right to hit that spot that makes you sob. One of his hands grabs your throat, not squeezing, just holding, thumb brushing over your jaw like he owns you.

“You like that, baby?” he growls. “You like bein’ fucked stupid?”

You nod, gasping, eyes rolling back. “Yes—yes, fuck, harder—”

He gives it to you.

Hips snapping into yours, the sound of skin on skin echoing off the walls, your moans getting louder, messier, realer. Your nails drag down his back, your thighs locked around his hips as you cling to him like you’re about to fall apart.

“Gonna cum for me again?” he mutters, leaning down, forehead pressed to yours. “Gonna cream on my cock like a good fuckin’ girl?”

“I—I can’t—” you whimper.

“You can. You will.”

He reaches between them and rubs your clit—fast, tight circles—and you scream.

Your entire body locks up, and then you break.

You cum hard, legs shaking, mouth open, nails digging into his shoulders. He doesn’t stop—keeps fucking you through it, eyes locked on your wrecked, blissed-out face.

“Goddamn,” he grits out. “You’re fuckin’ unreal.”

His thrusts get rougher, deeper, like he’s chasing the edge—but then, suddenly, he pulls out.

You let out a broken whine, head thrown back against the mattress, body still twitching from your orgasm. Your pussy clenches around nothing, fluttering in the absence of him, wet and ruined and aching for more.

“N-no,” you gasp. “Why’d you—why’d you stop—”

Bakugo’s hovering over you, chest heaving, every muscle in his body tight like a live wire. His cock is soaked, twitching as it rests against your thigh, flushed and throbbing with the need to be buried again.

“Could’ve fucked blown in that pretty pussy just now,” he growls, voice wrecked. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

He leans down, kisses you hard—filthy and deep, tongue licking into your mouth like he owns it. When he pulls back, his voice is rough, laced with heat and control.

“Don’t wanna cum yet,” he pants. “Wanna watch you fall apart again.”

His fingers trail between your thighs, sliding through the slick mess he left behind. You gasp, hips twitching, eyes rolling when he pushes two fingers into you without warning—slow and deep.

“Still so fuckin’ tight,” he mutters, voice low as he watches your face twist in pleasure. “So wet for me. You like bein’ stuffed full, huh?”

You nod frantically, legs spreading wider, hips grinding down into his hand like you’re starved for it.

“Good,” he says, curling his fingers just right, pressing into that soft spot that makes your legs jump. “You’re gonna cum on my fingers now.”

“*Fuck—Katsuki—”

“Yeah?” he smirks, eyes locked on where his fingers disappear inside you. “You close again, baby? Didn’t even give you a break.”

He keeps rubbing your clit with his thumb, fingers stroking in and out slow and deep, dragging slick sounds from between your thighs that make him groan under his breath.

“You’re so fuckin’ messy already,” he says, voice tight. “Look at you. All wrecked for me.”

You sob, head tossing back, hand fisting the sheets.

“Cum again,” he whispers, mouth brushing your ear. “Wanna feel you squeeze my fingers. Wanna make a mess before I fuck you proper.”

And you do.

Your body jerks, thighs clenching around his wrist, another orgasm ripping through you so fast and hard you nearly scream. Your cunt pulses around his fingers, clenching down with each wave, slick gushing down to his palm as you trembles through it.

Bakugo watches you lose it, feels your walls fluttering around his fingers, and his cock twitches, aching with the need to be back inside you.

But not yet.

He pulls his hand out slow, dragging it over your swollen, soaked folds, and brings his fingers to his mouth.

Sucks them clean.

“Sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted,” he mutters, eyes never leaving yours.

You look wrecked—eyes glassy, chest heaving, lips parted like you’re still trying to breathe.

He leans in, kisses you slow, and lines himself up again.

“You ready for more?” he murmurs against your lips.

You nod, barely able to speak.

He smirks, voice dark and low.

“Good.”

He slides back into you slow. Painfully slow.

His cock pushes in deep, stretching your ruined cunt all over again, and he groans at how wet, warm, perfect you still are—even after two orgasms and his fingers inside you. You’re flushed and boneless beneath him, lips parted, hair stuck to your face, eyes barely open.

Cockdrunk.

And he knows it.

He watches your face twist as he sinks in fully, his hips flush against yours, but doesn’t move.

Just stays there. Buried to the hilt.

You whine.

He pulls back, just a little.

Thrusts again—slow, deep, teasing. Like he’s savoring every inch. Your walls flutter around him, still clenching like you can’t let go, and he groans through gritted teeth.

“You feel that?” he pants. “How tight you still are?”

You nod, whining, legs twitching.

He does it again.

Slow.

Deep.

Unbearable.

You cry out, hips jerking up toward him, trying to chase more—anything—but he holds your hips still, smirking down at your wrecked face.

“Aw, what’s wrong, baby?” he coos, breathless. “Not enough for you?”

You whimper. “Suki—”

He grins. “Tryin’ to fuck yourself on my cock now?”

And you are—rocking your hips up in tiny, desperate motions, your hands gripping the sheets, voice a string of needy little noises that go straight to his dick.

“You’re such a desperate little whore,” he groans. “Can’t even wait for me to fuck you proper, huh?”

“Suki—please—please—”

Your voice is high, slurred, half-sobs and gasp, like you’re not even forming real words anymore. Your cunt squeezes him so tight he nearly loses it.

“Oh my fucking god,” he mutters, shaking his head like he’s in pain. “You sound so fuckin’ wrecked—‘please, Suki’—you know what that does to me?”

You nod, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Need it—need you—need more—please—”

And then he snaps.

His grip on your hips tightens, and he slams into you.

No mercy. No hesitation.

Just filthy, hard, deep thrusts that rock the bed against the wall.

You scream, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto, but there’s nothing—just his body, his cock, him, pounding into you like he’s trying to bury himself in your soul.

“You want more?” he growls, voice wrecked. “Take it. Take every fuckin’ inch.”

You’re so loud now—moaning with every thrust, your back arching, body jerking with the force of it.

“I—I’m cumming—” you cry, body locking up again, cunt fluttering like you’re gonna break.

But he doesn’t stop.

He won’t stop.

“Yeah, baby? Already? Barely even started.”

Your third orgasm crashes through you like a wave, soaking him all over again. Your body trembles under his, and still—still—he doesn’t let up.

He grabs your legs, throws them over his shoulders, and folds you in half.

Then leans forward.

His body presses into yours, hands braced on either side of your head, his cock now driving in deeper than ever before, dragging against your walls in a way that makes you sob.

The angle is brutal. Relentless.

You gasp—eyes wide, mouth falling open. Your whole body freezes.

“Suki—!” You squeal. “Wait—wait—I think—I think I’m gonna pee—!”

He knows.

He fucking knows.

And the second you say it?

Bakugo groans. Loud. Wrecked. Ferally turned on.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he pants. “You’re gonna squirt for me?”

You’re panicking now, overwhelmed, the pleasure too much, too fast, building into something different.

“I—I can’t—Suki—Suki—!”

“Yes you can,” he growls. “Let it go. It’s okay. Fuckin’ do it.”

And you do.

Your body jerks once—twice—and then you scream, back arching off the bed as a gush of slick explodes from between your thighs, soaking both of them, soaking the sheets. Your legs shake violently. Your pussy clenches and flutters and gushes, and he pulls out just in time to watch it all.

“Holy fuck—” he groans.

He’s panting, cock dripping, and you’re still shaking, still coming, body twitching like you’ve been electrocuted.

He doesn’t even give you a second.

His hand dives down, fingers rubbing your clit fast—tight circles, no mercy.

“Gonna make a mess all over me, huh?” he pants. “Gonna soak my fuckin’ cock next?”

You’re sobbing, overwhelmed, body still spasming as more slick gushes out of you, squirting again, harder, soaking his hand and the sheets and your thighs.

“You’re such a dirty fuckin’ slut,” he groans, mouth open, watching you fall apart. “Look at you—fuckin’ look at you—”

When you finally start to come down, body trembling, tears slipping down your cheeks, Bakugo grabs your hips and slams back inside.

No pause.

No recovery.

Just more.

More of him.

He fucks you through the overstimulation, pounding into your soaked, sensitive pussy, growling every time your cunt clenches around him.

You’re babbling again, sobbing out moans and whines, brainless.

He’s close now. So close. His thrusts get sloppier, deeper, hips stuttering.

And then—

You grab his face, eyes barely open, voice slurred and high and ruined.

“Cum inside me,” you beg. “Please, Suki—want it inside—need you to fill me up—please—please—”

His whole body locks up.

His eyes roll back.

And he blows.

“Oh fuck baby, yes yes yes, FUCK—!”

His cock pulses inside you as he empties out, the hardest orgasm of his life, ropes of cum shooting deep into your twitching cunt. He groans through his teeth, forehead pressed to yours, body shaking as he keeps thrusting, slow now, drawing out every pulse, every drop.

You moan at the feeling—full, warm, messy.

“You take it so fuckin’ well,” he pants, kissing you hard. “Made for me, baby. Fuckin’ made for this.”

His cock finally softens inside you, and he collapses onto your chest, both of you panting, soaked in sweat, slick, and cum.

You’re trembling. He’s still groaning.

And neither of you can speak.

Bakugo’s chest is still heaving as he lowers himself onto his elbows, careful not to crush you. His cock slips free, spent and messy, and you wince from the overstimulation. He’s already watching you—eyes dark, but softer now. More present.

“You okay?” he murmurs, brushing sweat-damp hair from your face.

You nod slowly, eyes fluttering shut, voice hoarse. “Yeah… just—holy shit.”

He lets out a quiet, breathless laugh and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Yeah. No kidding.”

You’re still trembling beneath him, body twitching with aftershocks. Your skin’s flushed and glowing, your chest rising and falling fast, and for a moment he just stares. Watches you breathe. Watches you try to come back to yourself.

He reaches for the edge of the bed, grabs the nearest towel—probably Keigo’s fancy ass silk robe or something, who cares—and gently wipes between your thighs. You twitch, gasps softly, but doesn’t stop him.

“Sorry,” he mutters, voice low. “I know you’re sensitive. Just wanna clean you up a bit.”

His touch is careful. Gentle. Like you’re made of glass now, even though he just had you screaming his name with your legs over his shoulders.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes. “Didn’t think you’d be the sweet type after railing me like that.”

He smirks, eyes flicking up to yours. “Shut up. You’re lucky I didn’t pass out.”

He finishes wiping you down, tosses the towel to the floor, and climbs back onto the bed beside you. One arm snakes around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You hum and bury your face into his shoulder, breathing him in.

It’s quiet now.

Just the sound of your breathing. The faint music still thumping somewhere in the house. His heartbeat under your cheek.

Bakugo presses his lips to the top of your head and holds you close.

“You really didn’t wear any panties tonight?”

You giggle sleepily. “Hoped you’d be here.”

His chest rumbles with a laugh, but there’s something else in it too—something warm. Dangerous.

“Next time,” he murmurs, voice low, lips brushing your temple, “just tell me what you want.”

You shift, just slightly, enough to look up at him.

Your voice is quiet.

Real.

“You,” you whisper. “I want you.”

He stares at you.

Heart pounding.

And says nothing.

Because there’s nothing left to say.

A few months later you’re standing outside.

The air is warm. Quiet.

No cameras. No script. No fake moans echoing off studio walls. Just the sound of a car pulling away from the curb, leaving behind nothing but soft tire tracks on the gravel and a sudden, still silence.

You exhale.

It’s done.

Your manager waved goodbye with glossy eyes and a box of farewell cupcakes like it was some emotional graduation ceremony. And maybe it was. A part of your life—the biggest part—is officially over. No more lights. No more contracts. No more “one last scene” promises.

You’re out.

Retired.

And free.

Your fans had been devastated, of course. The internet flooded with edits, fanpages posting heartfelt tributes, DM requests piling up asking if you were okay, if you’ll ever return. But you were calm about it. Because you had made your money. More than enough. Enough to buy three lives if you wanted. Yours, your future kids’, and their kids.

And for the first time… you didn’t feel like you owed anyone anything.

The gravel crunches under your feet as you walks up the driveway of your new house. It’s not huge. Not flashy. Just a little white-brick home with a cracked front step and windows that let the morning sun spill inside. There’s barely any furniture yet. The walls are still too clean. But you open the front door and walk in anyway, because it’s yours.

You walk through the living room. Kicks off your shoes. Run your fingers along the kitchen counter. There’s a faint smell of fresh paint and wood polish and something warm. Like home.

And then—warm arms wrap around your waist.

You’re startled for a second.

Until he nuzzles into the side of your neck, all soft breath and scratchy stubble, and you relax instantly.

“Hey,” Bakugo murmurs against your skin.

You let out a breathy laugh. “You scared me.”

He hums. “You’re the one who snuck in without saying hi.”

“I live here,” you tease.

“Hey,” he says. “We live here.”

His arms tighten around your middle. His hands are calloused and warm, and he smells like clean linen and cedarwood shampoo. He presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder and then another behind your ear.

“You know,” he says, voice low and teasing, “we gotta christen all the rooms.”

You snort. “You’re horrible.”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

You turn in his arms, facing him now—barefoot and smiling, cheeks warm, heart full.

Because this is the part no one saw coming.

After that night at Keigo’s house—after the hallway, after the bedroom, after you whispered “I want you” like it was the most honest thing you’d ever said—Bakugo was done.

He left the industry the next day.

Didn’t tell anyone at first. Just walked off set, deleted the shoot schedule, and never looked back. He didn’t need the job. Didn’t want it. Not if it meant being surrounded by people who weren’t you.

He pursued you properly after that. Not with half-assed flirty texts or casual hookups. He showed up for you. Asked you out. Cooked for you. Slept next to you, not just with you. You thought it would feel weird—awkward, even. But it didn’t.

It felt easy. Natural. Real.

You left the industry a week later. For yourself. For him. For whatever this life was becoming.

Now?

Now you’re here.

In a half-empty house with your names on the mortgage and a stupid list of furniture you still need to buy, and for the first time in forever, you feel like you can just breathe.

Bakugo kisses you softly. Just once.

Then he smirks.

“Bedroom’s still got space on the headboard for scratches.”

“Bakugo.”

“What?” he shrugs, already lifting you up by the thighs. “I’m sentimental.”

You laugh, cling to him, and let him carry you down the hallway, your new life unfolding behind every door.

Your bedroom’s bathed in soft afternoon light when he pushes open the door with his foot.

It’s nothing fancy—white walls, wooden floors, a tall dresser with half the drawers still empty. The bed’s made, kind of, one corner of the blanket folded back like it’s been waiting for them. A single mug sits on the nightstand. Your side.

He lays you down gently, like you’re something delicate. Like he hasn’t already had you screaming into his pillow a dozen times since you moved in.

You pull him down with you, fingers hooked in the collar of his shirt.

Your mouths meet in a slow, lazy kiss. It’s not heated or rushed—it’s warm. Familiar. The kind of kiss you only give to someone when there’s no performance behind it. No pretending.

Just love.

He crawls over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other on your hip, thumb brushing circles into the soft skin there. You exhale against his lips, smiling.

“You gonna make good on your promise?” You tease, eyes fluttering open.

“Which one?”

“‘Christen all the rooms.’”

He grins, teeth and cocky heat.

“Yeah,” he says. “Thought I’d start with this one. Seems the most important.”

Your heart thuds. You try to act unbothered, but his weight on top of you, the way his hand slips under your shirt, palm warm on your stomach—it makes your stomach flutter.

“But we’ve already-,” you laugh, running your fingers through his hair.

“Shut up,” he mumbles into your neck, kissing there slowly. “I know.”

You laugh.

“You make me crazy,” you whisper.

His mouth stills.

He pulls back, looking down at you.

And there’s something in his face that wasn’t there before.

Something quiet. Serious.

“I think about it,” he says softly. “The future.”

You stare up at him, breath caught.

“You ever do that?”

You nod, slow. “All the time.”

He leans down, presses his forehead to yours.

“I want it all,” he murmurs. “With you.”

Your hands slide up his back, feeling every tense line of muscle under your palms. You pull him closer. Your noses bump. Your lips brush.

“Me too.”

He kisses you then—not playful, not teasing. Just real. Long and deep. Like he’s telling you something in a language only your mouths understand.

When he pulls back, he whispers against your lips, “I love you.”

You exhale and smile. “I love you too.”

His hand slips between you, fingertips ghosting down your stomach, between your thighs. He touches you like he’s got all night. Like there’s nowhere else you need to be. Like loving you isn’t something he wants—it’s something he needs.

You gasp softly, hips shifting under his touch.

“You always get like this when you talk about the future?” You whisper.

He laughs quietly. “Only with you.”

Your thighs part for him. You’re already wet. Already aching.

“Then don’t stop,” You breathe.

He doesn’t.

He makes love to you slow. Hands in your hair, forehead pressed to yours. No loud moans. No biting. No rush. Just the steady rhythm of your bodies moving like they were made to fit.

After, you lay tangled together, half under the blankets, half on top of each other. Skin warm. Hearts steady.

He runs his hand down your spine. You hum.

“Hey,” he murmurs after a few minutes.

“Mm?”

“If we ever have a kid,” he says casually, “we’re not naming them after Keigo. I don’t care how much that bastard tries to bribe us.”

You bark out a laugh, pressing your face into his chest. “I wasn’t going to!”

“He’s already been hinting. You know he has.”

“I’m naming our first kid after someone normal, like—Ida or something.”

Bakugo looks physically pained. “Absolutely not.”

You laugh until your stomachs hurt, until your eyes sting with leftover tears, and then he kisses you again—slow and sweet.

“You really want all that?” You ask later, voice small.

He nods.

“You and me,” he says. “Little monsters running around. A house full of loud shit and chaos and love.”

You bite your lip. “And a couch that doesn’t suck.”

He smirks. “Yeah. That too.”

You fall asleep like that. Wrapped up in each other. Wrapped up in something soft and real and permanent.

Something that, for the first time in both your lives, has nothing to do with being watched.

And everything to do with being seen.

-

TAGS <3

@2elusional @cosmicaoii @kizsuki @kodzubaby

[gumii-bearr]

thinking about... ❝ corruption kink ❞

featuring... megumi fushiguro

content warning: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, girly!reader, alt!megumi, college!au (all characters are around 20-22), opposites attract fr, choking, corruption kink, rough sex??, virgin!reader, masturbation mentions??, dacryphilia, spanking, bruising, marking, size kink, blowjob mentions, dom/sub dynamics, reader is a girly girl and megumi is alt as fuck

author's note: this was requested by a lot of people

── alt!megumi who was infatuated with you from the start.

── you met at some college party and you were just adorable. you wore a pretty pink skirt with frills and lace, and you had pink bows in your hair and your makeup done with pretty blush and glitter.

── and alt!megumi knew he had to have you.

── you were so sweet to him, immediately bubbly and kind, complimenting his tattoos and his piercings and laughing at his sort of terrible jokes.

── and you loved that he was bigger than you and stronger than you, he was dark and brooding and definitely a little intimidating but you always make it a mission to befriend everyone.

── alt!megumi loving how soft and pretty you are and he'd be lying to himself and everyone else if he didn't want to corrupt your sweet little innocence.

── alt!megumi who stands out like a sore thumb in your pastel room, covered in hello kitty posters, fairy lights, sanrio plushies and pretty pink bedspreads and pastel sheets.

── alt!megumi whose dark clothes end up strewn all over your floor, your adorable lacy bloomers and pink skirt in a heap because you can't fucking resist each other anymore.

── alt!megumi who has your kitty sock-clad feet over his shoulders, your little hands gripping the sheets while he fucks into your tight little virgin pussy.

── alt!megumi who knows he's your first with how tight you feel around him, your plush thighs shaking with your approaching orgasm and you don't know what's happening because you've never been able to make yourself cum on your little fingers.

── "g-gumi– what's happening? i f-feel weird–"

── "s'okay, sweetheart... you're gonna cum."

── alt!megumi who loves it when you cry. when you whimper and cling to his shoulders, your pretty acrylic nails scraping down his back because it feels too good and you can't get enough.

── alt!megumi who wants to fucking ruin you for any other guy.

── alt!megumi who fucks you a little rougher the more you get used to his cock.

── he leaves bruises on your pretty hips and likes to leave hickeys all over your neck and down your pretty tits. and he especially loves when you try to ride him.

── it feels too good and you're whimpering and moaning and your movements are so shallow and erratic and megumi knows you need his help but fucking hell he likes to see you beg and whine about being embarrassed.

── alt!megumi who finds out you like to be spanked.

── you try doggy for the first time and your ass is just so damn cute pressed against his hips like that and he can't stop himself.

── he lands a hard spank to your ass and you whimper and gasp at the feeling of his cock deep inside you paired with the sting of his big hand on your ass.

── you clench down hard on him.

── "aw, sweet girl... you like that, huh?"

── he never lets you leave without your ass red and stinging under your cute little skirt, too sore to put on panties and too sore to sit down in a chair so of course you sit in his lap so he can soothe you with kisses and gentle rubs to your thigh.

── alt!megumi who fucking loses it when he sees your adorable pink lacy panties on his bedroom floor, a stark contrast to the dark and alternative vibe of his room.

── he loves seeing you wrapped up in his black sheets, your skin so soft and so warm and your hair still adorned with bows and pink hair tinsel.

── alt!megumi who slips your panties into his back pocket and will act dumb when you ask if he's seen them later.

── alt!megumi who will never fail to be surprised by you. like when he's fucking you a little too soft and you like it rough now because of him, so you tug on his hand and force it around your throat, wanting him to choke you while he fucks into you.

── "holy shit, sweetheart. you just keep me guessin' don't you?"

── alt!megumi who likes how much bigger he is than you, how your hands look so small wrapped around his cock and how your mouth struggles to take him.

── alt!megumi who likes how fucking dumb you get on his dick. begging for more as if you don't feel him inside your tummy and as if you haven't cum on his face, his fingers and his cock about six times.

── alt!megumi who fucking loves you, loves how you leave angry marks down his back, how you leave your cute panties lying around on his bedroom floor, how you send him little pictures of your outfits every day only for them to end up on your floor when he comes over.

── alt!megumi who's the first guy to ever fuck you and will absolutely be the last.

author's note: RARARARARA BARKING ON ALL FOURS

[willyoubemycherryy]

“Isn’t it past your curfew?” (Salesman x reader)

Summary: What happens when you run into your father’s dark suited friend after dark? You get in trouble of course.

Contains: [deep breath]-> snacks and drinks because this one is LONGER, drinking, clubbing, panicking, choking, mouth spitting, everything IS consensual but it’s rough so, rough sex, spanking, kissing, pussy spanking, dacriphyllia, multiple orgasms, squirting, you suffer from ptw, that’s pvssy too wet, seriously, dom/sub dynamics, he’s still gross and fucked up, possessiveness, degradation, praise, he’s still mean :(((, manhandling, thigh riding, kinda in public for the first half, car sex, hair pulling, squirting, unprotected sex, one all expenses paid trip to poundtown, and cursing. There’s so much I probably forgot something but y’all get the gist.

A/N- enjoy the official second installment of the dad’sfriend au! ;)

Kisses for all starting with~ @dorayakissu @jae-mie @lcvsanaa @love2fangirl @jusferisnothere @dilfismz @mybahama @trentknd @reka13 @511rkive @gr-red

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ _ _

_ ➵ ✩ ◛ ° . +

The second time you and your father’s new friend meet, it’s not at all in the setting you thought it’d be.

No, awfully enough you’re mid-spin- throwing your ass in a club near the shadier part of the city, out way past your dads rules in a tight dress- cute manicured toes peeking out your heels; makeup laden eyes widening as you make eye contact with the same gorgeous man who wore you out almost 3 weeks ago. Leaving you with a card and legs that remained shaky for the next 2 days.

The morning after was a trip and you won’t even touch how you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face, smiling even as you went to pee; the stinging a pleasant reminder of the whole ordeal. And, true to your word, you indeed have been nicer to your dad. Kissing him on the cheek with a light “be back later dad, I love you”, whenever he was home and you were leaving just like you did when you were six and his happy smile was just the same. You also put a limit on the smart little quips where you could but not so much that it was obvious you had gotten a full body attitude adjustment.

You’d been so good.

Little did you know, he’d heard as much. Smirking inwardly like there was some in-joke whenever your father would be cheerier than normal sometimes on his early commute- telling him how you made breakfast, kissing him on the cheek with a sweet ‘bye daddy’ before you left for your day or how you were less snippy- instead you were pleasant. So now imagine his surprise seeing his friend’s perfectly pleasant young daughter in one of his clubs that you didn’t even know was his, in a snug dress so short that whenever you moved you were threatening to flash someone. The skimpy little thing didn’t even have a back.

He knows the exact moment you see him see you because the way your heart falls to your ass is written all over your face and it makes him grin even wider.

When he moves, his stride is perfect. Long limbs weaving seamlessly through the sea of bodies as he deliberately walks past you.

You who is internally panicking.

“Mmm he get to strokin’, ooh how I love when he chokin’ me! Bitch I’m a boss! I do what I want-!” Your friends yell the lyrics drunkenly as they move their ass against you and you wince, suddenly hyper aware of who’s watching. Even though you had been drinking, you weren’t drunk but that didn’t change the fact that you weren’t supposed to be here and now there was a witness who knew the reason why your fast ass wasn’t supposed to be here and could very well snitch to said reason.

You shout some nonsense excuse to your friends to where you’re going and they nod back before going back to partying. If they were less plastered you know they’d question you and insist on coming with so you thank your lucky stars they’re not because the last thing they needed to see was you getting slut out by a man twice your age while attempting to do damage control. Spinning on your heel you walk the same path he did but less gracefully as you try not to stumble in your heels or topple over anyone. Your heart beat is almost louder than the music as you look for the dark suited man and the further you walk the more intense it feels; flashbacks of devilish hands and a nasty mouth cloud your mind and you swallow harshly, willing away that heat with a shaky inhale before it can burn you.

Just as you turn, you’re yanked into a corner- the sound of your shriek swallowed by the music.

“Well if it isn’t daddy’s good. little. girl. Shouldn’t it be past your curfew?”

Fuck. His voice is just as deep as you remember and the name makes a shiver crawl up your spine, a familiar tingle settling in your cunt. Still, you refuse to give him the satisfaction, taunting him with your smart mouth even though he can see your (now hard) nipples poking through the colorful toss of glitter you called a dress.

“Shouldn’t you be in a bingo hall n’some retirement center near the exit of my damn business?” Fuck x2. Alcohol loosens your tongue something terrible on a good night so now the same alcohol coupled with adrenaline has you completely reckless- delayed sense of self preservation only loading at 34 percent. The looming realization of your fuck up comes in the form of a smile so wide that it creases his eyes as he begins to laugh. And laugh. And laugh until you’re giggling nervously too. It’s awkward sounding compared to the low timbre of his rich sounding one. You shuffle once and that’s as far as you go before his hand snaps around your throat; cutting off your oxygen, strong hold fastening as he gives a good squeeze, forcing you harder against the wall.

His grip is tight off the bat and just like last time you can’t keep your hand from flying up and gripping his hard forearm the same way you can’t help yourself from getting wet as blood rushes through your ears. He’s looking down at you like you’re nothing more than a thing- his little thing- as he watches you with a dark smile.

“Cute. And here I thought we fixed that smart ass mouth of yours.” He sneers in your face and you nod desperately because he really did fix it, you were just tipsy. You know for a fact that you can’t withstand another one of his attitude adjustments- especially somewhere so public- standing in uncomfortable shoes. Ignoring your pleading look completely, he slides his knee between your plush thighs, wedging it right up into your clit through your soaked panties, loosening his hold for his next trick.

“Let’s try again, okay princess?” The petname falls from his lips with the same condescension as all his other words but it doesn’t sound any less heavenly and you whine- blinking at him prettily through your lashes.

“..yes sir…”, The way you submit has his eyes fluttering shut for a second and the feeling that rolls through him is dangerous.

He truly is a sick man. He could ruin you beyond repair if he wasn’t careful.

“Why are you doing out so late in a place like this? Dressed like that too.”

“It’s the end of finals for the semester, m-me and the girls just wanted to have a little fun..” you sound so timid, like a brat caught drawing on the wall and he cooes at you.

“And the outfit?” You flush as you feel just how little you’re wearing- though the last time he saw you, you were wearing nothing at all. Even your face had been bare which was a hard contrast to now with your hair messy from dancing but lovely still, smokey eyeshadow that had flecks of glitter and pouty lips pretty and glossed. Bristling, you ask,

“What’s wrong with it?” There’s an undercurrent of more tone than he likes but he feels generous enough at the picture you paint not to make you pay for it as he smiles indulgently at you, raising a brow as he shakes his head.

“I suppose nothing besides the fact I almost missed it even when looking straight at you. Good thing it’s not any tighter or it’d be invisible.” He grinds his knee up into your pussy, catching you off guard with the sudden shockwaves of pleasure you’re subjected to at the expense of his taunting. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a second as you undulate your hips against his thigh in those messy circles you like so much, choked moans breaking through your every gasp.

You’re so lightheaded.

Nerves ultra sensitive from the lack of air and tequila buzz as you bite your lip, bringing your hands to your chest, pulling your bra and dress down to let your breasts spill out; pulling and tweaking the hard nubs shamelessly as you do. What was it about him that made you act this way?

You feel so good, you don’t even care to find the answer. Bathing in the heat of his stare, you rock your wet cunt back and forth over the hardness of his thigh, the fabric of his pants giving the most delicious friction against your throbbing clit. His brows furrow in arousal as he watches you fuck yourself on his leg, moaning like every bit of the slut you looked like with his hand around your throat. But you would get much louder than this- that he knew from experience.

Your attention gets bought back to the man you’re minutes away from coming on when his other hand wraps itself in your hair and pulls. It’s intense. White-hot pleasure that comes with the burning sting as you cry out, hips jerking as your legs shake at how close you are. He pulls again, moving your head farther back, exposing your neck as he licks a fat, wet stripe up the sensitive, sweat slick skin all the way to your mouth and you can’t stop moving your hips as your eyes roll back- heart racing from how much you’re feeling, soaked hole clenching around nothing. His voice clears some of the fog about to take you but his words cause the shame this time.

“Does your father know you’re here?” You pinch your lips together in embarrassment, because no- he didn’t know. You told him you’d be back before the set time but here you were almost 2 hours past. He jerks his thigh against your center harshly, cutting off your wail with a tight hand and you swear you see lights.

“Answer me, coherently. I want to hear those big girl words.” Fuck.

It’d be a lie to say you wish he wasn’t so mean. It was part of his charm, the edge that made him that more interesting and irresistible. You swallow as best you can, sniffling wetly through the water that’s already gathering in your eyes and the sight and sound make him so feral that he’s ready to take you on the floor, fucking you stupid on the glittering black marble.

“N-no..my dad doesn’t know-“, the faux shock on his face shifts into contemplation and you can not have that as you rush the words out,

“And you can’t tell him! Please! He’ll flip if he finds out..” He wasn’t a snitch but you didn’t know that, begging sweetly for him not to rat you out- even holding off your orgasm just for him and he’s filled with that same sick rush as before. You were so delectable. So sweet, so wet- your teary doe eyes too- and so pliant beneath him.

He shuts you up by bringing his face close to yours, smelling the flavor of your lip gloss while enjoying the suddenly shy look on your pretty face at him studying you so closely as he whispers,

“Open your mouth.”

Huh? He’s close enough to kiss you so is that it? Your heart threatens to give out at the thought of him kissing you. Kissing is so…intimate. So is sex but there’s something about both your eyes being closed as you lean in, trusting one to guide the other. Especially since you still hardly knew each other…

Would you like to know him?

You ignore the tear between your gut instincts and your feelings and open your mouth. The pleased hum he rewards you with makes you keen but as the hand around your windpipe tightens and your heart stops as you feel plush lips drag across your cheek…. Right before a warm wad of saliva hits the your tongue, sliding down the back of your throat. Did he just-

You swallow on instinct and only then does he kiss you on the mouth. It’s short but demanding and so, so good- your eyes fluttering shut, hips returning to their motions with more urgency than before as he absolutely devours your mouth, licking into it like he’s trying to find traces of him; pulling away with a mean suck of your bottom lip and you gasp wetly.

“Good girl.”

You bite your lip and the water that was already gathering in your eyes spills over, panting as you try not to be swept away by the consuming waves of crushing bliss but you can’t stop your fucking self from grinding your clit against his leg, humping it with pathetically watery sobs.

He knows you’re close, that familiar pained expression on your flushed face but instead of putting you out of your misery; he decides to- “Ah ah. No-“, but it’s too late and he knew that full well before he even started. He was already planning on you disobeying, that way your punishment would be that much more…satisfying.

He watches with lidded eyes as your orgasm rips through you, grabbing his wrist for stability, hips twitching out of their messy rhythm and you wail; coming so hard it hurts. The torrent of euphoria submerges you for what will go down as the longest minutes of your life and when you come down, you’re distantly grateful for his hand because you wouldn’t be able to hold your head up otherwise.

The spot beneath your pulsating cunt is wet and he leans his head back with a pleased sigh. He was going to fuck you up in the best ways. Your makeup is messier now thanks to your tears as you sniffle weakly, trying to catch your breath and he has to hold himself back from sliding your dazed self onto the ground and-

“Sorry…m’sor- I couldn’t hold it..”, you slur out as he moves his thigh, making you stand on wobbly legs; still lightheaded from your high. Mentally, he goes through all the things he can put your soft body through as he fixes your dress, pulling what little there is of it- down as he decides what to do with you.

“It’s ok. You’ll make it up to me.” He smiles at the way you nod almost dumbly, holding your hand- ready to take you with him before looking you over, eyes searching for something.

“Where’s your phone?”

You groan because the answer was embarrassing but one you were sure he’d get off on. Shifting uncomfortably, you mumble out; “it’s in the waistband…” Oh? His night just keeps getting more and more interesting. Your face warms more as his voice takes on a mocking sort of condescending.

“Waistband of what?” Your embarrassment is just as sweet as you are and he barely holds back his smirk.

“…my thong.”

It’s a good thing you’re not looking at him because the dark glint on his face would’ve sent you running for the hills. Moving closer, he takes his time running his hand down your side, making your breath hitch as he runs it smoothly into the side where your dress cuts to open back, feeling around near your hips where the soft skin gives to the pressure of fabric until he feels your phone- pulling it out.

He really needed to stop touching you so casually. It wasn’t good for your sanity. But, he doesn’t care as he squeezes your hand, making you focus up again.

“What’s your password?” You narrow your eyes but tell him anyway because you know if you don’t, he’ll make you. You wait anxiously as you watch him scroll for a bit before pressing something and typing some more before he locks it, sliding it into his suit pocket as he pulls you along with him.

“What-”

“Now your friends won’t come looking for you.” Your heart thumps, pumping heat through your veins at the many implications of his statement. He guides you down through the back corridor of the club and you notice the farther you get, the softer the music is until it’s quiet and your looking at a neon pink door before being pulled out of the building into the cool night air, walking towards a large, dark fancy car parked across from it.

He never breaks his stride as he walks you toward it, letting go of your hand to open the backseat door, turning to you with dark eyes and a grin softer than anything he’s going to do to you tonight.

“Get in.”

•

•

•

He doesn’t take you home.

Instead, you’re snatched into the open space of the back and he’s right behind you; slamming the door as he kneels behind you, grabbing you by the scruff of your neck, he manhandles you chest down to the leather seat, cheek flush against the cool surface with your ass up. There’s a deep groan that shakes you to your core as he drinks in your form with greedy eyes. You looked so appetizing that he’s tempted to keep you even after he’s done with you. Smooth ass up in the air, back arched nice and pretty for him, legs open as one balances on the seat and the other on the floor giving him a clear view of your wet pussy- their swollen lips being outlined by the scrap of wet fabric barely covering them.

The backseat of his car is plenty big enough but because of his height, he still has to maneuver a bit, taking off his suit jacket he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt before winding his hand back.

Your nerves are already on high alert, panting as you hear the rustling of his clothes then nothing. The concept of relaxing your body doesn’t even fully make it to your mind when a heavy slap has fire blooming across your ass and you choke.

The initial pain is just a prelude though as you hear a low laugh and your thong is ripped clean off you before more spanks rain down on your asscheeks. Each hit is hard, making the sensitive skin tint as it recoils from the strength behind the burning hits. You end up coughing, trying to gasp but it ends in a desperate sob as the sting begins to warm and the sting of his palm leaves shockwaves of pleasure that fester in your lower body, making your cunt pulse as he watches slick ooze from your tight hole, pupils blown.

“I know exactly what to do with you.”

You hear him but you don’t get to respond, eyes fluttering back in complete bliss as you’re suddenly stuffed with 3 of his perfectly thick fingers. All three immediately curl up like they’re trying to poke your bellybutton before thrusting in and out, brushing his thumb against your clit after every nasty squelch. Each mean swipe of his fingers sends you closer to oblivion as you feel yourself start to drift. You fog up his windows with your moans, lipgloss smeared against his seat but it’s all pointless because you’re going to cum. And when you cum, it’s gonna be your ass because you can’t catch your breath enough to ask him coherently if you were allowed to.

The fingers inside you curl completely, grinding against that sweet bundle of nerves inside you and your inner thighs spasm as you wail- hiccuping loudly, you cry in pleasure when the dam breaks and oh god you’re coming.

Your eyes snap shut as you try not to pass out from all the sensations. It’s like you’ve been dunked in lava- your orgasm blazing as it consumes you. You don’t even scream anymore, just crying and whining as you shake; cunt spasming from trying to withstand the waves. You usually never cum so hard and you worry that if this becomes a daily thing it’ll shorten your lifespan.

It’s cute. Watching you struggle not to be overwhelmed by him. You don’t even hear him unzip his pants, fat cock bobbing as it beads with precum, cooing as a certain realization finally creeps up on you. That his fingers were still fucking into your tight snatch, grinding away at your g-spot.

“Since you couldn’t stop yourself from coming…”

Oh no. Nononononono-

“I don’t want you to stop coming.” The broken sob that reaches his ears has a thick shiver of arousal run through him as wretches his hand out of your hole only to smack heavy wet spanks onto your erect clit.

Your heart stops and a few seconds later you can’t hear or see either as you cum for the third time that night, mouth dropping open in a silent scream as you squirt all over him and his luxury car, drool spilling into the space under your cheek. It’s almost miserable as your arch deepens, body trembling until consciousness returns to you in a flood of lights and you go boneless.

Even in the mess he’s made of you, he likes this look much better than the polished party princess from earlier. You looked pretty before but now your fucked out form looked good enough to eat, punched out gasps leaving your chest. Taking his fingers out, he cleans your cum off them, eyes fluttering at the taste as he runs his other hand up and down your back, settling on your deep arch when he feels your shaky hand reach back to grip his thigh.

“G’nna fuck me now?” Oh, poor thing. He was going to fuck you stupid. Shame that you already sounded so dazed when the fun was just getting started. Grabbing his cock with the hand that was covered in you, he slides it between your folds, groaning at the hot slick, moving back and forth- fat head bumping your clit.

“Yeah, baby. ‘M gonna fuck you but”, he pulls your head back by your hair, the burn brings you out of your haze a bit and you hum to let him know you’re listening,

“You better not pass out. Understand?” You bite your lip, moaning from your throat as you wiggle your hips, feeling the weight of his cock against your hole but not sliding in until you agree.

“Mhm, yes sir-” He cuts you off with a snap of his hips, thrusting into your sopping heat with chest thick groan, hissing through his teeth- tingles buzzing through him. You were still so wet and tight, pussy almost choking his length as he set to thrusting right away; fat cock battering your insides.

The stretch hurt. But it hurt so good and you find that you missed being stuffed so full, crying out with the grip on your hair tightening while he fucked you like he paid for you. Broken wails spill from your throat at the harsh way he pounds them out of you, front snapping against your ass. Watching the bounce with hungry eyes, veins on his forearms popping out from every time he pulled- eventually burying his hand deeper- holding you down as he goes harder, hips snapping nice ‘n deep against yours and you scream in bliss.

You feel so fucked up because even though you were so sensitive that it bordered on painful you can’t keep yourself from whining for more. He was just as fucked up though. Apparently being a facilitator of murder wasn’t enough, now he was fucking his friend’s daughter- that he was much older than- senseless at almost 2 in the morning but you looked damn good while he did.

Messy hair and tear streaked makeup, bite swollen lips with your pretty little dress yanked up, dark handprints bruised all over your backside while you get railed with your ass up. Yeah. If you were fucked up for this then it was fine; he was beyond fucked up too.

Slick runs down the inside of your thighs and you groan, muscles spasming as you feel your impending orgasm get closer, bleating screams rising in pitch when you feel him grind filthily at the gooey bundle of nerves inside you and you don’t have the presence of mind to be embarrassed at the way your cunt leaks like a ruptured faucet, ruining his pants again.

His rakes his fingers firmly through your scalp and the sound that comes from you is nothing short of pathetic- making his smirk positively wolffish when he leans down close; licking a wet stripe from your cheek to your ear. It’s primal and he revels in your shudder, voice rasp with heady arousal as he purrs out,

“Cum. Squirt yourself to a headache f’me, princess. You earned it.”

You’re sure that in the moments that follow, you pass away. Unlike your previous orgasms that only ripped through you, this one rips you apart and it’s devastating. Chest burning, you black out. Molten hot euphoria makes every synapse inside of you sizzle until your nerves light off as liquid shoots from your cunt that’s tightened around his fat cock like a vice; milking him in the wake of your bliss. His own eyes roll back as he fucks you through both of your highs, cursing at the mind numbing pleasure.

He turns you over without pulling out, hissing at your wrecked appearance before leaning down to catch you in a deep kiss, moving your head with the force as your lips smack against each other. You jerk when you feel him tongue along the inseam of your cheek before he pulls away with a short gasp, pulling out with a sigh. Letting you watch him as he fixes his pants but not his hair, leaving the strands that had fallen in his face when he was inside you.

You sigh at the relief of pressure finally off your back, leaning into his touch when he moves to grasp your chin. All he has to do is raise an eyebrow for you to get it, making his chest roll in satisfaction.

“Thank you for making me cum, sir.” Your voice is still scratchy from the work he put your vocal cords through and he huffs out a breath, smiling gracefully down at you.

“Of course, baby.” The petname brings another surge of heat to your face as you look away from him. You’re cute. How you’re shy after everything you’ve done together. He moves his hand and shuffles back, long arm reaching behind him to open the door and you slam your legs shut, which did nothing since your little dress never covered a damn thing even when it was pulled down.

Getting out, he swipes his suit jacket off the back of a seat, dropping it over your near naked form with a chuckle before closing the door as he walks through the night air to the drivers side, starting his car the second he gets in before he listens to the thoughts telling him to just take you.

“…soooo- what now?” You ask shyly because you’re still unsure about whatever dynamic you two had; even though it was very fun, there was still the age gap and the fact that he was buddies with your dad. The soreness was already starting to set in and you’re tired.

“We are going to a store- so you can clean up and get something that actually functions as clothing before I take you home.” Huh?

“You’re not gonna tell?” The confusion in your voice makes him laugh as he flicks his eyes up at you through the mirror.

“No. I got something out of it too, remember?” You hear the teasing in his voice and it makes you jittery, nodding in response as he speeds up. He honestly had no business looking that sexy while driving, pouting until his voice breaks you out of your reverie; his next words send your heart racing.

“I’ll keep your secrets if you keep being a good little thing. Deal?”

You’re silent as you mull it over. You already have secrets so what’s one more? Biting your lip, you think of just how much fun this could be. A little series (😉) of rendezvous with a forbidden man. Your dad never had to know.

And since you know he’ll never tell….

“Deal.”

He smiles, dark eyes brimming with something unsettling. He couldn’t wait to turn you out.

You still had no idea who he was and for your sake, he hopes on your behalf that it stays that way.

Part 3…

[ervotica]

hot rod — a.donaldson & p.zweig

pairings; art donaldson x fem!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x patrick zweig

summary; patrick comes to visit you and art at college. he finds college life is a lot more adventurous than once anticipated

warnings; mdni, 18+ only, SMUT, threesome, overstim, oral (m receiving), sub leaning!reader and art, more dom leaning!patrick, established throuple, polyamory

a/n; i’m not so sure how i feel about this tbh. i love the dynamic though so i pushed through even when it got away from me a little🥲 there will be another drabble for older!art and his pretty girl soon!!

you and art fuck until you’re brain dead and passed out from exhaustion. always have. neither of you possess an off switch, and when patrick’s not there to rein the pair of you in, things get a little… messy.

his cum is dried in your hair, the sticky substance smeared across your cheek, his knuckles still wet with slick.

patrick walks in, full belly laughs and peels you from art’s sweat soaked form, gives your cheek a pinch when you stir and whine.

he doesn’t clean you up because he likes to leave you naked whenever he has the opportunity — which is more often than not. seriously, you two need close supervision.

he just carries you with him to that shitty little armchair in art’s dorm, the room still stinking of sex and the humid summer air clinging to your skin; art shines with perspiration where he’s face down on the bed.

pat makes do with the lack of room, hooking a bare leg over the backs of your thighs until you’re squeezed snugly against his torso, face smushed to his chest. you’re snoring, and it makes patrick smile, slumping down in his chair to rest his lips against your cheekbone.

you wake slowly, eyes sticky and crusted over with exhaustion. your face is almost nestled beneath patrick’s armpit where you’ve been writhing in slumber and you grumble at the scent of sweat, layered with cheap aftershave. his hard-on presses to the center of your stomach and you can feel everything— the curve it makes now it’s hard and weeping, the feel of the spongy head, the vein that runs through the middle.

“you smell, pat,” you grumble, reaching up blindly to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth and take a long pull from the stick.

“yeah, well you’re not so hot yourself, babe. the whole room reeks.” he reaches down to tug on a loose strand of hair at the crown of your head. “there’s cum in your hair.”

“not my fault.” you stretch upward like a cat, curling into patrick’s chest. “where’s art gone?”

“still sleeping, baby.” he lights another cigarette, sacrificing the first one to you - still resting between your lips - and the clicking of the lighter draws your head upward to gaze through heavy lashes at him.

“come to bed,” you murmur, kissing his knuckles. your free hand coasts a long line across his jaw and you dig your thumb beneath his ear, giggling when he scrunches his features and relents, and pushes you to stand with a swat to your naked backside.

art curls into you instinctively when you roll onto the mattress, your hand threading through the curls atop his head. you scrub sweeping circles across his bare back and he hums a pleased sound, smearing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. patrick splays himself over the pair of you, all long limbs that sit askew to cover as much of your naked frames as possible.

art squints through the yellow light that illuminates the room, bright and artificial on his sensitive eyes. your movements against him don’t halt, a slow, rhythmic, loving sweep of your hands that he’s come to look forward to in moments like this. his jaw tilts upward as he mouths at your neck like a starved man, like you haven’t just gone five rounds and collapsed from overstimulation.

“you two need supervision,” patrick snorts. you quirk a bemused brow. “i’m serious, look at what you’ve done to each other! you look like you’ve been mauled.”

“jealous, much?” art mumbles sleepily, the sound muffled through your skin. you’re laughing and it splits your expression in two, eyes crinkled with amusement as the strawberry blonde boy snipes at patrick.

“should’a come to college with us, pretty boy,” you giggle. “could’a had this twenty four seven.” you dip your head until your brow presses to art’s. “poor pat, with no one to stick his dick in. how will he ever cope?”

“you could help me out, sweets,” he deadpans, the nickname saccharine and sour on his tongue all at once. art watches you through heavy lids. you huff, biting playfully at art’s lip before you tilt your head to face patrick,

“okay,” you chirrup. art’s quick to sit up, separating from your warmth in favour of nuzzling against patrick. patrick tips his chin down, slanting his lips against the blonde boy’s.

meanwhile, you’re working his cock through his shorts, palming the muscle until it chubs up beneath your hand, drooling a wet patch through the fabric. patrick groans, hips rolling up into your touch when you hook your fingers beneath his waistband and tug his cock free.

he moans into art’s mouth and your mouth goes dry at the sight. you’ve always loved to watch them like this, the way they get lost in each other, the way they start fervently pushing into one another’s space until patrick inevitably makes the first move and sticks his tongue down art’s throat.

patrick turns to putty beneath art’s roaming touch, huge paws that squeeze and grope and push at every inch of skin they come into contact with, not stopping even as you press your face to the seam of patrick’s balls, inhaling the sweat-soaked musk that creeps up your nostrils.

art’s hand snakes downward, flicking over pert nipples and ridges of muscle before he’s flicking a thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. patrick’s back bows into an arch as you lave your tongue over his sack, humming into the sensitive skin, full and heavy and begging for release. his hips rock upward into you as you seal your lips over him, eyes heavy with lust as art comes down to meet your mouth over his mushroom head.

it’s filthy and messy, downright pornographic as art licks over patrick’s cock, tongue pressing flat against the corner of your mouth and letting his spit pool there. you’re moaning - unable to help yourself - pressing your face forward to slant your lips over art’s fully. it’s all spit and drool as you lick into art’s mouth, the heady taste of the brunette boy still on your tongue, and then patrick’s bracing a hand against each of your heads and easing his cock through the seam where your spit slick mouths mesh.

you gasp and your damp lashes flutter, heavy with tears, and art’s tugging you frantically by your waist, pressing your bare chest to his own as patrick throws his head back and groans, shallow thrusts deepening. his breath stutters out in short, sharp bursts, chest heaving when your face slides down, down, down, all the way to the base of him until your pretty plump lips are wrapped around his sack.

you suck it into your mouth just as art takes patrick down his throat, the head of his cock bulging through the hollow of art’s throat as spit stretches and bows from the corners of his lips and lands in globs across your face.

you’re too drunk on the pleasure to care, the vibrations of your little sounds shooting right through patrick until you feel his balls tighten; he groans, long and loud, pushing closer to the pair of you as his cock pulses rhythmically and he releases down art’s throat.

you push your way through until your mouth is on art’s again, tongue licking into his mouth to taste patrick, wanting to be marked, claimed by both of them. his lips part, nose pressing to your cheek, and then he’s lifting you into his lap, his cock an angry red and pressed to the seam of your thigh.

patrick groans. there’s no fucking way he’s hard again.

“no more, you horndogs!”