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theragethatisdesire · 10 months

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scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.”

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin.

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it.

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch.

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

#aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren x you #eren yaeger x you #eren yeager smut #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger fic #eren jaeger fanfiction

16K notes · View notes

shotoh · 1 year

Text

all mine

SYNOPSIS: Bakugou decides to put his delusional secretary in their place.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

word count: 9.6k+

genre: fluff, SMUT, maybe a smidgen of angst

tags/warnings: 18+! minors dni! reader is not the secretary, basically this other lady is trying to seduce your man but katsuki isn’t falling for it! marking, exhibitionism, oral (f!receiving), riding, soft!bakugou but also mean!bakugou, humiliation (not really at reader), a couple spanks, office sex, praise, degradation, pet names (baby, princess, angel), crude language

author’s notes: this is very overdue, like incredibly overdue LOL i started this wip last year but could only continue writing during random bouts of inspiration. so i apologize if the smut is a little half-assed and if the characterization is questionable. but enjoy my late kinktober 2022 present to y’all

The sound of Dynamight’s heavy boots hitting the floor resonate throughout the wide hallways of his agency, drowning out the heels clicking behind him. A woman quickens her pace in an attempt to catch up to the impatient blond hero, rushing into his peripheral vision.

“Sir? Oh Bakugou sir~” The dulcet chime calling him is sickly sweet, enough to make him grimace. “I need you to look over these reports before I file them away.” She whips out one of the thick packets of papers clutch to her chest, bringing his steps to a halt which makes the hero point a glare at her.

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you that you’re suppose to call me by my hero name.” Malice coats his words, dripping off his tongue as he swipes the reports from her fingers. The woman, to the hero’s annoyance, indulges in his feisty attitude.

“Aw, but ‘Bakugou’ is more fitting given how closely we work together!” She waves off his displeasure, hoping her excessively cheerful personality can tone him down. “I am your secretary, after all.” She leans into his space, too damn close for his liking by how he could get a whiff of her pungent perfume. The overbearing scent has him side-stepping to create more distance between them.

The blond rolls his eyes before giving the papers in his hand a once-over, not even granting her the satisfaction of eye contact. “You work at a Pro-Hero agency, not some ordinary office job.”

Normally, he isn’t one to admonish any of his employees unless they’re his sidekicks. He’s always out and about on missions, never dawdling around the office long enough to find anything to scold them about. So long as they were competent at their job, he never had to give them any earfuls. But this woman here has been testing that resolve.

A month into her new position, his secretary has been greeting him every morning with far more energy than should be considered possible at such an hour. Her regular tasks shouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. She was mostly tasked with filing villain reports and contacting other Pro-Hero agencies, but her enthusiasm warrants him to think otherwise.

She deliberately shares elevator rides with him, droning on and on about god knows what before getting off at her floor, ending their dull conversations with winks and wide-eyed smiles that make him want to gag. It’s one thing to be genuinely excited about your job, but it’s another thing to be attached to your boss at the hip. She’s at his beck and call when he doesn’t even ask for her.

One can chalk this up to her simply gunning for a promotion, buttering up her boss to garner his favor. However, Bakugou isn’t an idiot. He can read the air, deciphering the meaning behind her words and advances. Her deceptive guise of a hardworking secretary beneath those batting eyelashes is easily uncovered by him.

If she was really trying so hard for a promotion she’d approach him with more important topics in mind. Statistics, analysis, updates on villain activity and hero work. Y’know, discussions that would actually benefit his agency rather than waste his time.

Instead, Bakugou stands there listening to… this.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” her voice drifts off as she taps a finger against her bottom lip pensively, “we should consider holding a party to get to know all our co-workers better!” she proposes. The blond narrows his brows incredulously at her suggestion.

Oblivious to his lack of interest, she moves closer to him, caressing a hand along his hard bicep. She tip-toes her fingers up his arm before flattening her digits next to his ear to whisper, “Company members only, of course. But I’m sure we’d still have a fun time even if it was just the two of us, right?”

Recognizing the suggestive lilt in her tone, he shoves her off of him without even touching her, abruptly tossing his shoulder back. The secretary freezes and comes across the peeved expression on the explosion hero’s rough features.

“We’re here to beat villains and protect civilians, not throw dumb parties.”

“But–”

“Shut it,” he retorts harshly, not letting the bewildered look on the secretary’s face demur him. He shoves the reports back in her arms. “Just do your damn job.” With his brows taut behind his mask, the blond glares hard at her, watching her fumble with the papers before he resumes the rhythm of his combat boots stepping down the hallway. The hero gives her one last glance over his shoulder.

“And remember, it’s Dynamight to you.”

Man, what an annoying woman.

Is the thought that plagues Bakugou’s mind as he stands beneath the running water in his shower, washing away the sweat and grime accumulated from another busy day of heroics. Yet he still can’t get the irritating thoughts in his head to do the same.

His fingers weave the shampoo through his spikey locks, the pads of his digits massaging his scalp. Glancing at his reflection in the foggy, glass screen door, he meets his scowling mug.

“Tryna get in my pants and shit… Worry about keeping your damn job,” he grumbles to himself exasperatedly. What he finds especially annoying is knowing his secretary will start the day again tomorrow as if nothing happened. Even with Bakugou’s firm stance at wanting to keep things strictly professional, she’s going to continue getting up in his space, trying to caress her nails up his arm, and stink up the place with what he swore was five different kinds of perfume sprayed on her clothes.

But Bakugou’s not some oblivious fool. He can recognize from a mile away what her goal is and he absolutely wants no part in it.

Besides...

“Katsuki! Dinner will be ready when you’re done showering!”

His head swivels toward the door of the bathroom. “Yeah I heard ya!”

He’s already got someone deserving of his time and affection.

You.

“’Kay!” you reply, voice gradually growing louder. Bakugou hears your feet plodding toward the bathroom door just as the door creaks open slightly. “I’ll leave you a new towel to use after you’re done showering, too.” Even through the steam, he can recognize your silhouette peeking inside to drop the towel off. Unbeknownst to you, behind the cloudy glass door of the shower there’s a smile that finds his lips.

After washing the lather off his hair and body, he shuts the water. The last streams falling from the showerhead glide down his skin, joining the suds on the floor before they all disappear down the drain. As the thick steam surrounding him dissipates, he covers his toned body in the towel you left for him.

While patting down the excess droplets cascading his blond locks, Bakugou puts on some sweatpants, but forgoes his t-shirt for now, leaving it hanging over his shoulder. He continues rubbing the towel around his torso as he exits the bathroom.

The savory aroma of thick cheeses and tomato sauces hits Bakugou’s nose the moment he enters the kitchen. He stops in his tracks to take in the pleasant smells, along with the sight in front of his eyes that effortlessly forms a grin on his face.

Your soft hums accompany the harmonious atmosphere of the kitchen. Bakugou’s ruby eyes rove over you shimmying your way around an array of pans and plates like you own the place (which you essentially do), watching you finish piecing your dinner together with a generous sprinkle of garnish and spices.

Eyes never leaving you, an expression of admiration and fondness paints his usually hardened face. With arms crossed over his chest, he could just stand there, admire you, and be more than wholly content. You could do the most mundane things and still have him wrapped around your finger—not that he’d ever mention that to you out loud of course. Occasionally, Bakugou wonders how he ever got so lucky with you in the first place.

You’re so blissfully unaware of your hotheaded boyfriend lurking nearby. It’s all the more apparent by how you abruptly pause as soon as you discover him idling in the kitchen doorway in all of his half-naked glory.

The blond doesn’t let the fact that you’re practically ogling his hard muscle slip past him, and definitely doesn’t miss your moment of hesitation before you avert your gaze, your cheeks growing hot. It brings a smirk to his face and his ego through the roof.

Bakugou tosses his towel and t-shirt somewhere off the side before coming to you. “What? Getting flustered or something, babe?” he taunts. His deep tone hovers next to your ear as his chest touches your back. His hands are on either side of you, trapping you against the counter.

“That fuckin’ hot that I got you this speechless?” His breath is so close to you, he just knows you have goosebumps trailing down your spine. He can tell by the heat swirling in your cheeks just how much he has an effect on you and he absolutely loves how easily he can get you flustered.

Though he can’t say he’s all but immune to your charms, either. He trails a calloused hand up your bare thigh and hips, giving your ass a firm squeeze through your booty shorts which causes a yelp to flee your lips.

Fuckin’ hell.

The way you were dancing around in these things, tip-toeing to reach high cabinets that caused the shorts to ride up slightly and give him a glimpse of the plushness peeking past the fabric already had Bakugou half-hard simply standing behind you. But being able to touch what was essentially his started to make the material of his sweatpants absolutely suffocating.

In a single motion, he spins you around. Your back is pinned against the counter as you’re forced to face him. The cocky grin plastered on his lips greets you.

Finally grasping your composure, you raise an eyebrow at him. “For someone who wanted to take a shower as soon as their stinky-self got home, you sure are eager to get dirty again,” you retort, tracing your hands up his arms to place them on his broad shoulders. “Work didn’t get you sweaty enough?”

The blond chuckles lowly at your cheekiness. His face inches closer, mere centimeters away from your lips. “I could go for an extra workout,” he says huskily, voice dissipating with the shortening distance between you.

His eyes are lidded as he targets your lips, hands leaving the edge of the counter in favor of wrapping his arms around your waist. To his surprise, when he darts forward he meets nothing but air.

Hearing your giggles beside him breaks the tension between you. He opens his eyes and discovers that you’ve tilted your head out of the way. Before he can open his mouth to spit a retort, you rest your head against his shoulder, arms winding at his neck.

“Food’s gonna get cold, big boy,” you hum.

The noise that leaves his gritted teeth is practically a growl. “Dun care about the food–” His hands at your sides play with the waistband of your shorts. “Would rather eat you out on this counter.”

He watches you gulp down the lump in your throat, finding the idea tempting as a dull throb aches between your legs. But to his dismay, you don’t want to let him indulge in you just yet.

You lean forward to kiss his cheek to prepare him for your next words, “First and foremost, dinner. And then I'll let you do whatever you want with me. How’s that?” You tiptoe to peck his nose one more time for good measure before wriggling free from his clutches. You shuffle away to the steaming hot food you left on the other end of the counter.

Pink swathes his cheeks as Bakugou stands there dumbfounded. He rubs the back of his head, his brows furrowing in frustration.

“You’re killing me here, dammit.”

You let out another dulcet giggle. The urge to sneak up on you again to try to get you all hot and bothered lingers until it’s interrupted by a piece of fabric thrown in his face. “Also, shirt on we please.” You turn back at him with two plates of stuffed ravioli perched on each hand. “No shirt, no service.”

He yanks the white t-shirt off his face, grimacing as he begrudgingly pulls it over his head. “Yeah, yeah. You love it though.” Nonetheless, he follows behind you while the savory aroma of your food creates a path toward the dining table. The scent alone makes his stomach growl, the effects of a long day at work making themselves apparent.

Despite the antics he has to put up with, he can’t help but soften around you. It’s as if you possess an innate ability to effortlessly get him to shed his notoriously rough exterior.

He takes a seat on his side of the table, his stomach now growling loud enough for you to hear. You tease a wry grin before placing the ravioli dishes on the table, letting the delicious aromas waft around him, his mouth watering.

“I know it’s been a long day for you so you better eat up, hero.”

The blond’s eyes flicker for a second, chest enveloped with pride as he meets the look on your face that awaits for him in anticipation to dig in. “Yeah… Thanks for the meal,” he murmurs, mild gratitude woven in his words as he picks up the fork and finally chows down.

Again, what did he ever do to deserve you? He knows how hard you work each and every day. The fact that you’re still willing to love and take care of him is enough for him to want to cherish you for an eternity. Coming home to the person he loves and sharing meals with them is a blessing to him as it is and he absolutely wouldn’t trade this for anything else.

Which just makes the matter of his secretary all the more annoying to him.

The damn woman has walked in his office plenty of times to see the framed picture of you two on his desk, even occasionally interrupting his phone calls with you that would end with him mouthing low “love yous” before he’d have to turn around to acknowledge the petty expression resting on her face. He’d watch as her demeanor quickly shifted into a full 180—from a bitter frown to a forced grin to keep up her facade. She definitely knows he’s in a happy, committed relationship. The real question is whether or not she cares enough to acknowledge the fact.

He could just fire her for unprofessionalism. That seems like an obvious solution, but knowing her, she’d probably feed the media some false rumors about alleged abuse towards his employees. Of course, that wouldn’t at all be true. Far from it, but the news loved to twist the truth so long as it got them clicks. Given Bakugou’s naturally rugged demeanor, it wouldn’t be hard for the public to buy their shit and for his ranking on the hero chart to plummet. Which Bakugou could not afford right now considering how close he was to the top.

“’Tsuki, stop playing with your food.” He hears you chide, tugging him from his contemplation.

Bakugou huffs, jamming his fork onto the plate. “I’m not a damn kid.”

“Right, tell that to the ravioli you’re mangling with your fork.” You raise your brow and point at his stabbed and defeated pasta, the filling oozing out from the punctured holes. He keeps his gaze suspiciously fixed on the ravioli.

Does it taste bad? You wonder warily. “If you don’t like it then you don’t have to eat it, y’know.”

“What? No– The food’s fine.” He stuffs three pastas in his mouth one after the other. “Fucking delicious,” he mutters through ungracious chewing, cheeks puffed profusely, bringing a grin to your face.

“What’s wrong then? Bad day at work?”

He swallows his food. “Could say that,” he answers, resting his head against his propped arm. “Just some employee causing trouble.”

“Hopefully it’s not one of your sidekicks,” you pick at the raviolis while stuck in your musing, “I remember your first batch of recruits when you just started your own agency. You nearly scared half of them away by the end of the week.”

“How else was I supposed to whip those newbies into shape?” He lounges in his seat. “If they can’t take some yelling from a Pro, then they’re definitely not ready for the real hero world. Besides, they were the ones that came to my agency knowing that I’m the best,” he boasts with confidence, shoving more pasta in his mouth, and munching at his leisure.

“Also, it’s not a sidekick. Just some lady who can’t do her fuckin’ job.”

“Aw, cut her some slack, I’m sure she’s trying her best.”

Bakugou almost scoffs. If you knew the real reason for her lack of work ethic, you’d be on the same page as him.

Either way, he really needs to get this secretary off his back before shit blows out of proportion. If pictures, phone calls—hell—even lunch dates can’t get her to wake up, then what?

To his surprise, the idea actually comes to him quicker than he anticipated, red eyes perking up at a scheme forming in his head.

Of course. Heh, why didn’t I think of that sooner?

This is how he’s going to do it, he thinks. His lips barely resist the urge to quiver into a smirk that will no doubt have you questioning whatever was riling him up. Swallowing his final piece of pasta, Bakugou pushes his plate away but aims his fork in your direction.

“You free tomorrow?”

“I just have to drop off some papers at work in the morning. Why?”

“Good. Come by the agency for lunch.”

Your brows furrow at how sudden the request is, however, you go along with it. “Okay, should I make lunch for us?”

“Nah, don’t. I’ll order something,” he assures, but in his head he’s sure lunch would be the last thing on your mind tomorrow afternoon with what he has planned for you, him, and his secretary.

Bakugou scoots his seat back, leaning over on your side of the table. “Now, I remember a certain brat made a promise to me after dinner was done.”

“Hold it, I still have a piece–”

“Nuh-uh, c’mere–” He lightly pushes your hand away, and with effortless strength, pulls you out of your chair and over his shoulder. “Already waited too damn long.”

“Whoa..!” Your last piece of pasta falls back on the plate, forgotten. You watch as the distance between you and the dining table diminishes, the impatient blond leading you two into the hallway. At your fidgeting, he swats your thigh, warning you to stay fucking still unless you want to accidentally fall on your face.

With a squeal escaping your lips, you comply. As a reward, he presses his lips against the side of your ass as you’re still hanging over him, nipping at your curves. Your yelps are replaced by laughter. The ticklish sensation nearly makes you squirm again if not for Bakugou dropping you unceremoniously onto your bed.

“You better make it up to me for having to make me wait, Princess.” His emphasis on what is supposed to be your endearing little pet name comes out as a snarl as you’re cornered against the sheets. Expecting this kind of intense reaction from him after your meal, you grin slyly.

“I mean the ravioli was good, wasn’t it?”

Well that he can’t deny. Still, the blond smirks, showing his pearly canines. “Yeah, but,” he moves away from you, kneeling while grabbing at the hem of his shirt to pull it off,

“I’m still fuckin’ hungry.”

There is no doubt that the next day, you woke up incredibly sore. Sore yet also just as happy.

The tension in your muscles had dissipated as a result of being repeatedly fucked into your own mattress last night, allowing you to sleep soundly. So soundly that you don’t even notice your boyfriend leaving for work that morning. But it can’t be helped given how ungodly early his hero work starts every day.

Some hours after Bakugou has already left, your alarm goes off to remind you that it’s about time to begin your day. Even after a spent night, you can’t bear the thought of lying in bed anymore, especially with how cold the sheets had become, devoid of the blond’s natural warmth. Plus you had something to look forward to this afternoon—your lunch date.

Once you get washed and dressed, you grab your business files from your desk and dash out the door to drop off your papers at work.

Before you know it, it’s noon and you’re standing in front of the receptionist’s desk at Dynamight’s agency.

While you wait for the receptionist to finish their business call, you think back on the employee Bakugou mentioned yesterday. You note in the foreground how busy the entire place looks, which doesn't surprise you. The agency runs like a well-oiled machine. With all the hustle and bustle going on, it seems like everyone is doing their job with peak efficiency. Honestly, you can’t imagine anyone wanting to test the wrath of the explosive Number Two Hero, but you assume such people existed.

“Thank you for waiting! Here to see Mister Dynamight?” The receptionist greets you after hanging up their call, immediately recognizing you from your prior visits.

“Yeah, just coming by for lunch.”

“He’s in his office right now so I’ll let him know you’re here then.”

You mouth a thank you, followed by a farewell wave as you make your way to the elevator.

“’Suki’s office should be on… this floor…” you murmur, pressing the corresponding button on the panel. While you wait for the doors to close, you spot a figure approaching from a distance. You can see the person’s wrinkled professional attire, disheveled hair, and slightly smeared makeup as she approaches the elevator clumsily.

“H… Hold the door!” she pants.

Hearing her frantic request, your mind catches up with you. You jam your index finger on another button on the panel, keeping the doors open just long enough for the woman to slip inside and catch her breath.

You watch her ungraciously drop to the floor, lungs gasping for air. “That was a close one.” You bend down to extend a helping hand.

She sputters as she reaches out to you, “Yeah, thanks, I– Wait, you’re...” When she looks up, her eyes squint to get a better look at your face, brows knitting together as she recognizes your features. Dismissing your help, she abruptly retracts her hand before getting up on her own. You cock your head suspiciously when you notice her change in demeanor.

“Oh, I’m just stopping by to have lunch with my boyfriend. He’s your, uh,” you piece your words as eloquently as you can, “boss.”

It’s always difficult for you to tell any of Bakugou’s staff that you’re his girlfriend. You’d done it before in front of his group of sidekicks while waiting outside his office and as a result they all flipped, bombarding you with questions about your relationship before falling dead silent when his door suddenly swung open.

You’re expecting the same, if not, a similar reaction here, but you’re surprised to see a deadpan look in the woman’s eyes. She averts her gaze. You glance over at her, taking note of her fists shaking at her sides and how she bites the inside of her cheek which forms a pout on her lips.

You’re beginning to wonder if you shouldn’t have disclosed that information. “Are you okay?” you inquire, your voice filled with genuine concern. She eventually turns to look at you straight on, her expression teetering between a smile and a scowl. In any case, she tries to steer you away from the elephant in the room.

“Yep! Just peachy!” she assures through a strained grin that makes you all the more suspicious of her. Even if you want to question it, she has no intention of continuing the conversation. Her lips press together in an effort to maintain her smile, or else risk blurting something that should’ve stayed in her mouth. You keep to yourself in the elevator so as not to bother her, but the prolonged silence, combined with the elevator’s incessant dinging throughout each ascending floor, creates a suffocating atmosphere.

With every floor you pass you soon realize that despite keeping your distance, she’s still looking in your general direction. You notice her sneaking glances at you and your neck grows hot as you follow where her eyes wander. You press your palm against your jugular, the spot you recall Bakugou laying his teeth on last night.

I thought I covered that…

You want to chastise yourself for not spending enough time this morning to conceal the blemishes on your neck. Your coworker had even commented on them before you left for Dynamight’s agency, to your embarrassment.

You settle for letting out an uneasy chuckle while adjusting the collar of your shirt. Though the majority of Bakugou’s staff are already aware of your relationship, you’d rather hide any detail of your sex life if possible. You’d prefer not being the hot talk amongst the whole faculty.

You expect to be the brunt of the woman’s teasing next, anticipating her wiggling her brows or whistling, but she keeps her mouth shut and her expression even appears offended.

Fortunately, the elevator saves both of you from any more uncomfortable silences. Right on cue, the doors slide open for the woman to exit on her floor. She doesn’t spare you a glance on her way out, but you overhear her mutter under her breath, “Enjoy your lunch or whatever.”

She stomps in the opposite direction until her figure disappears behind closing doors. Your face scrunches. “What’s her deal?”

You’ve gotten used to the bitter reactions some people would give over the fact you and Bakugou are in a relationship. You kind of have to, considering who Bakugou is and the hoards of fans he’s accumulated over the years as a Pro-Hero. But any of the backlash you receive is mostly posted online by petty netizens. No one has the guts to confront you in person. Mostly because if they do, Bakugou has no qualms about retaliating with equal venom and more. This lady, on the other hand, works for Bakugou. When it comes to greeting her boss’s girlfriend, she should be professional, right?

You brush those thoughts away, recalling that no one should ever have to suck up to you simply because you're a Pro’s significant other. “She’s probably on the PR team.” You laugh off, remembering how much trouble it is to manage Bakugou’s public image and how she must be tired from working overtime.

The elevator dings one last time to indicate that you’ve arrived at your destination. When the doors part, the entrance to Dynamight’s office is directly across from you, passing a short corridor. Normally, sidekicks and employees had to press the button on the side of the door, or page him ahead of time before entering. However, you have the luxury of just swinging those doors open whenever you like.

“Heya, Katsu–”

“For the last fuckin’ time, there’s no way I’m going on that mission as his fucking standby.” The voice booming at the other end of the room behind a wide, wooden desk drowns out your voice. “Tell Grand that if he can’t find another B-rate hero agency like his to do his damn dirty work, then he can just fuck himself,” he spits into the receiver. He slams the phone down and hangs up the call without a second thought.

You announce your presence once more with a low whistle. Another one for the PR team. “Vulgar as usual,” you joke.

He sighs loudly, “The only way to get the message across their thick skulls is to beat it into their heads at this point,” he says, leaning against the large glass windows behind him. “That Shindou needs to get off my back. I thought I told everyone I wasn’t taking anymore calls from that asswipe.”

“I’m sure Grand will finally get the idea after he receives your message from his manager.” Slipping in next to him, you wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers delicately crawl up to his chin, tilting his head to face your smile. Bakugou reciprocates the gesture, his gloved hands gripping your waist and pulling you in as your lips briefly meet. When you part, you rest your forehead against his.

“How was patrol this morning, hero?” you whisper, playing with the tufts of hair above his neck.

“Same old shit,” he tells you quietly as you hum at his response, an amused grin tugging at the seam of your lips. Just as you’re about to separate, his hold at your sides tightens, locking your body against his.

“Bet you missed me, didn’t you, princess?” He leans in to nibble your jawline, causing laughter to tumble from your lips. “Bed got cold without me?”

Your answer is interrupted by a hand brushing up against the waistband of your pants, ruffling your tucked-in blouse. The man growls in the crook of your neck. “Didn’t have my cock to keep you nice and warm?”

Your nose scrunches at his unfiltered tongue. “Katsuki, I came here for lunch, remember?” You push at his chest, attempting to get him off you, but his teeth lock onto your clavicle.

“Food’s on the way,” he assures. Fingers play with the loops of your pants, dragging your shirt out slowly. “Might as well kill time–” His lips suddenly collide with yours, stealing your breath and drowning out any protests. He scuffs his teeth against your bottom lip, looking for a way in. You whimper in response at his persistence, stumbling backwards against the edge of his desk as he finally pries through your lips.

After an intense moment of kissing, his attention shifts to your jugular, nipping at the tender skin again. Every time his canines make contact with the broken skin, you wince. “Still got my marks all over ya,” he boasts, but the more skin he tries to unveil, the more he has to pull at your shirt’s collar which quickly annoys him. “Though I don’t understand what the hell you’re covering them up for.”

“D-Don’t want people to see…” you fumble with your excuses yet tilt your head to grant him better access. He scoffs at how your actions betray your words.

“Why does it matter when I want them to see? Let those fuckers look and know we’re together.” He licks one of the patches of broken skin. His harsh words make you shiver in his hold, but beneath his rough exterior, you sense a tender possessiveness in the amount of attention he pays to your body.

Your fingers brush through his hair, gently pulling him off of you so you can look him in the eyes, “You’re so damn insufferable, you know that?”

“Heh, you like it though,” Bakugou counters. You click your tongue, feigning ignorance. With his hand wrapped at the nape of your neck, he thumbs at your blemishes. His ruby eyes take their time to admire every inch of his claim on you. “You were clenching whenever I marked you. Screaming nice and loud too.”

“I bet the neighbors hate us now…” You sigh quietly.

“Took them that long?” He grins, almost proud of being a menace to those extras next door despite being a heroic figure. “Besides, not my fault you let me do whatever I wanted to you.” You pout, but accept it’s a fact you very well can’t deny.

As his deft hands unfasten each button of your blouse, he switches your positions. He yanks your shirt, dragging the fabric down your shoulders to reveal your skin and the bra hugging your chest. Licking his lips, he removes his thick gloves before hoisting you up to sit on the desk with him, making you straddle his thighs. Another pause of appreciation for the blossoms adorning your chest makes him blurt out, “Maybe I should let you mark me up just as much.”

You look at him precariously. He doesn’t take back the grin on his face. Seeing your wide-eyed expression, he cups your jaw, pulling you toward him. “What’s the look for? I know you’ve thought about it, princess.” Bakugou reads you like a book. He revels in your flustered face, telling him how right he is.

The image of his scarred, toned skin covered in hickeys has crossed your mind more times than you can count, but you’ve always been too engrossed in the intoxicating sensation of his teeth grazing every stretch of your skin to ever have an opportunity to bring the thought to light. Bakugou never gives you an inch when it comes to taking the reins in the bedroom. But now he’s practically granting you the opportunity on a silver platter.

You point a dubious look at him. “Are you serious, or did you bump your head somewhere earlier on patrol?” Anticipating your skeptical response, a chuckle rumbles low in his throat. He scoots back to remove his tank top, letting your hands lay over his chiseled physique. Your fingers immediately trace the scars and cuts lining his muscles, each one standing as a testament to every one of his battles. The idea of your own marks joining his adonis of a canvas has your eyes fluttering.

“’s no joke, babe,” he clarifies, a wicked grin plastered on his face. He then remembers why he made this whole arrangement in the first place. “Aren’t you tired of those fuckin’ extras always ogling me—looking at me up and down like they even have a damn chance to touch all of this?” He grabs your wrist and guides your hands above his chest, your fingertips brushing his collarbones.

You bite your lower lip. “Well…”

Hearing your voice linger, he snarls, “Are you seriously hesitating?”

It’s not like you hadn’t ever clenched your fists in front of the TV whenever your boyfriend was being interviewed by some mischievous news reporter or journalist. They never make it subtle when casting one too many glances at the Pro’s sweaty, skintight attire, staring into his red eyes for so long that they started looking dumb. Though as much as dark green jealousy occasionally takes root in your subconsciousness, you never act on your displeasure.

In the back of your mind, you always saw it as a sign of clinginess. But Bakugou sees it differently. To him, he’d want nothing more than his girl staking their claim on him. For you to get needy, jealous, possessive. Let the entire world know that you both belong to each other and no one else.

You fix your gaze at his cynical expression that eggs you on. Before you know it, you lunge forward. Your mouth latches onto his neck, arms curling around his shoulders. Bakugou draws you skin-to-skin, his low chuckle reverberating in the depths of his chest.

“Ooh, that’s it,” he encourages, rubbing your back. His other hand palms your ass, rocking you both back and forth, grinding his bulge against the crotch of your jeans. Your teeth cling to him, sinking into his skin. Your lips vibrate against his collarbones while you whimper at the delicious friction on your clit.

“Harder. I wanna see nice ol’ purple marks here,” he orders, relentlessly rolling his hips. You want to slap him on the wrist, your concentration waning as heat quickly pools in your abdomen. As if the grinding isn’t enough, Bakugou effortlessly undos the button of your jeans. He pulls down the zipper before reaching inside and touching you through your underwear.

“Fuck, already this wet from a little grinding? Nasty girl,” he hisses, running his index and middle finger across the ruined crotch of your panties. “Or maybe marking me is getting you all riled up?”

“Shut up–” you mutter half-heartedly. With a pop, your lips leave him. You lean back to evaluate your work. They’re not as noticeable as the marks Bakugou usually gives you, but they’re visible, and they’re purple as requested.

A small trail of violet hickeys adorns the crook of the blond’s neck and collarbones. Your finger traces the path, eyes capturing the sheen of your saliva over the marks. His skin gleams in the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

Reaching inside the pocket of his baggy pants, Bakugou pulls out his phone to turn on the front-facing camera. He gets a clear view of your work on the screen, and his smirk appears on the display. “My girl did that, huh?” He cranes his neck to examine the blemishes from different angles. Soon after, you hear his camera’s shutter release, capturing the image and adding it to his gallery. He should really consider making an album out of these.

Tossing his phone to the side, those piercing red eyes return to you, and your assertiveness fades. He grabs your wrists and leans in to kiss your temple.

“You did well, princess.”

His hushed voice makes your cunt clench and your ears warm. “I'll be sure to show these off later,” he promises, his tone dripping with smugness.

God, you realize how little his hero costume does to hide any of those hickeys. Given that he has to go on patrol again soon, you can expect his neck to be a hot topic in the media. Regardless, you can’t deny the satisfaction that wells up in your chest at the thought.

Katsuki was right. You really are possessive over him. And of course, it goes both ways.

While you’re distracted by your epiphany, he uses this opportunity to unhook your bra, happily discarding the garment. You exhale as he roughly cups the underside of your breast. His breath tickles your perky nipple, strong arm hooking you into him.

The pattern of his breaths are erratic, excitement coursing through his veins. His carmine eyes are lidded as he flattens a tongue against the hardened nub. As Bakugou fully wraps his lips around the stiffening bud, sucking and biting to his heart’s content, mewls part your mouth.

“Your tits still taste fucking amazing,” he mutters, mouth caught between sucking and spewing obscenities. “These tits gonna give me some milk too, princess?”

“Don’t push your luck, mister,” you quip before biting your bottom lip. You concentrate on moving your hips back and forth against his thigh, trying to find the right angle that provides you with the delicious jolt of pleasure you craved between your thighs. With a smack, his lips leave your nipple.

“Guess I didn’t give you enough attention down here since you keep rutting against me like a needy slut.” He swats your ass before gripping the plushness harshly. The mild sting has your pussy clenching. “My baby doesn’t feel satisfied unless she’s getting stretched open by my cock, huh?”

Just a little bit of dirty talk from him is enough to make you whimper pathetically, “Please, ‘suki…”

“Please, what? Gotta tell me more than that, princess.” He tugs the waistband of your pants, teasing you. Never breaking eye contact, Bakugou’s hand sneaks under the edge of his desk. “Use your words, I want to know what I’m doing to you. Don’t skimp on the details.”

A light click goes off, but if you hear it you don’t make it apparent, too focused on the hot blond in front of you that was making your head spin.

“Fuck… ‘Suki, I feel so hot… Need you right now…” You grab his hand showing him your ruined panties by letting the pads of his fingers trail your wet pussy. “See? Look what you did, I’m soaked.”

Bakugou mutters curses under his breath, applying more pressure to your panties to thoroughly inspect the slick saturating the fabric. He couldn’t have asked for a better reaction, finding your pleading to be incredibly sinful and all-too-tempting. He considers it a waste that he isn’t recording anything. Well, maybe it isn’t an entire waste.

“Damn, how are you this messy? This pussy’s fucking sobbing for me.” You nod, sloppily gyrating on top of his hand. For once, Bakugou is considerate to your needs and slides your panties to the side to slip his digits across your bare folds. You both moan in unison, you at the extra relief and him at the slippery honey dripping down his knuckles.

In his eyes he was being generous, granting you his thick fingers prodding your silky walls rather than reduce you to pitifully grinding against him. But, being greedy, you thought he wasn’t being generous enough.

Bakugou’s fingers leave your cunt to sample you, wet digits laying flat on his tongue. “Fuck, I need to lick you clean right now.”

“N-No, ‘suki, jus’ want your cock in me already,” you whine with a pout. However, Bakugou is insistent on stealing more than just a little taste from your sweet cunt.

“Not gonna even let me indulge a little? Must have spoiled you with too much dick last night.” He scoffs, but doesn’t move to discard his uniform to free his hard cock. Instead, he motions you to step down and stand in front of him while he remains perched atop his desk.

He eyes you up and down. “What are you waiting for, princess? I want it all off already.”

Your fingers start moving toward your disheveled blouse. As fabrics pile the floor, you catch the blond licking his lips, lewdly eyeing your panties that slip down your legs to reveal your juices coating your inner thighs.

“Turn around and kneel on top of my chair.”

At his blunt tone, you obey. Dynamight’s luxurious office chair cushions your knees as you carefully lift your body onto it.

“Bend over.”

Without question, you use the arms of the chair as leverage to safely lean forward, spreading your pussy in front of him. As half of your face presses into the cushion of the head rest, you steal a glimpse of his reaction from your peripheral vision.

With a guttural hiss between his teeth, he gets off the desk, pulling the chair closer for an even better look at your glistening center. He palms your ass, rolling the globes in his hands before spreading them, exposing your slick folds.

“You seriously trying to deny me this angel cunt?” His words are emphasized with a quick smack before his tongue dives between your folds. You whine at the contact, his lips fluttering around your clit as it works its way up your slobbering hole.

Knees shaking, you subconsciously muffle your sounds as you press your face into the headrest of the office chair. Not satisfied with your muted cries, Bakugou reaches one hand toward your head. He cups your jaw, turning you more to the side so you aren’t hiding in the cushion. When his tongue swivels around your sensitive bud, your moans resonate across his office with euphoria.

“‘suki! I’m gonna–!”

“Gonna cum? Do it then you slut.”

At your warning, he works his mouth vigorously against your pussy, even adding two fingers into your walls. Your toes curl behind you as your grip on the arms of the chair tighten.

“Fuck, you’re dripping all over my damn office chair.”

Maybe you would’ve issued a half-hearted apology, if not for his tongue and its unrelenting intensity across your sensitive bundle of nerves. You only offer a string of moans that Bakugou happily accepts, smiling into your pussy as he feels you tense up against him.

“Ka..tsuki!!” You practically scream, electricity coursing through your skin as your orgasm shakes your entire body.

“That’s it, princess. Want your taste all over my tongue… So fucking good,” he drones against your folds, not letting a drop go to waste as you slowly come down from your post-orgasmic bliss.

“Ah! ‘Suki, I’m already too sensitive…” You gasp, still feeling him drunkenly licking up and down your slit despite you just coming. Reaching behind you, you weave your fingers through his ash blond hair, nudging at his scalp to try to push him away, but Bakugou’s strength clearly outweighs yours. He grips your wrist, lifting his face off your sloppy pussy of his own volition.

“That sensitive just from my tongue? Oh, sweetheart, I plan on ruining you in my office chair alone.” Keeping his word, he replaces your pliant body with his own, planting himself right on the cushioned seat with his legs spread thoughtlessly. He dashes for the hem of his pants, unfastening the zipper, and pulling down enough articles of clothing for his cock to spring out, stiff and glistening with his arousal.

Lust blown eyes admire the thickness of Bakugou’s shaft, rightdown to the veins on the ridges of his cock. A smirk and chuckle follow in the wake of your heady gawking, swearing that you look like you were about to pounce and give him the best head of his life. Sadly, as he glances at the digital clock perched behind you, he realizes there’s no time.

“Sorry, babe, food’s gonna be here any minute and I need you on my cock right fucking now.” He rolls the office chair closer to get a firm grasp of your hips, motioning you on top of him with rousing urgency. Thighs on either side of his own, you reach over your body to level his cock over your dripping folds.

The blond’s lips curl into a sneer beneath you, hands fondling your breast and ass—the latter spreading your cheek to help you accommodate his size. “Besides, this what you wanted, right? To be–” As you begin sinking down his length, your mouth opens in a soundless mewl. “–split open on me, even after I fucked you into the mattress last night?”

Your teeth tug at your bottom lip while you do your best to bottom out. Katsuki isn’t amused by your muted reaction, pinching your nipple as punishment and spurring his desired noises from you. “What did I say? Answer me, slut, you wanted to get fucked dumb again, didn’tcha?” His words are harsher this time, demanding your attention.

“Yes, yes! Wan’ you to make me your little cockwhore, ‘Suki…” you confess, moaning when you feel his dick fully impale you. At the same time, Bakugou hisses at how your walls mercilessly hug his shaft.

“Yeah princess, I’m going to give you exactly what you need– Fuck! How are you so damn tight?!” It hasn’t even been ten hours since he had sex with you, stretching you into his shape last night until the sun shined, and yet you still had the innate ability to squeeze every ounce of pleasure out of him and then some. At this rate, he’s not going to last. “Need you to move, baby. Ride me already.”

Hearing the urgency in his tone, your hips begin moving on their own, dragging yourself on and off his cock. Hands on his shoulders, you leverage yourself to maintain a steady rhythm that had you both delirious and panting in pleasure. The blond’s thick fingers dig into your soft flesh, growls leaving his lips as fire flares in his veins, threatening to ignite his last ounce of willpower to allow you to keep this sustained tempo.

“F-Feeling good, ‘suki?” you question, looking down at him with a sinful expression painted on your gorgeous face—pretty eyes half-lidded and needy just for him.

“Yeah… God you make me act up all the damn time I–” His cock twitches between your tight folds, eyeing you from below and watching you clasp his hand that’s pawing your breast to gesture to him to play with you some more. The sensual yet genuine smile you give him ultimately breaks his resolve.

Oh, fuck it.

As if chains have snapped around him, Bakugou suddenly shoots up, carrying your body against him. He lays you across his desk quickly but carefully, with little regard for whatever else tumbles and falls off of it except for you.

You squeal in surprise, your arms and legs attempting to find purchase around him before you’re reduced to jelly by the new quickening pace of his cock pounding your insides.

“Oh my god… Katsuki!” The obscene slapping of skin on skin accompanies your desperate cries throughout his office. Arms that were wound around his neck lose their hold on him, pathetically dropping to your sides to clasp Katsuki’s wrists, where he’s pulling your thighs apart to spread you open for his unrelenting thrusts.

“Sorry, princess… you looked so damn hot I couldn’t hold back anymore. Needed to feel you deeper and make you cream already.” His tepid apologies don’t reach your ears as you’re overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his movements, followed by a searing knot welling up in your abdomen.

By the looks of it, you have no objections to the turn of events, gazing dreamily at him as his hardened body hovers over you. From your point of view, you get glimpses of the sweat dotting his forehead, his nose scrunched in concentration, and narrowed ruby eyes glimmering with feral desire.

With stars in your eyes and features all flushed with warmth and lust, you sing a euphony of I love you’s between whimpers. Your voice catches in your throat when his cock repeatedly hits that sweet spot inside your gummy walls.

Bakugou can’t get enough of you, heart swelling with his affections that he can’t help but flick his wrist to intertwine his hand in yours. Despite his progressively carnal thrusts, he possesses contrasting tender devotions in his voice.

“I love you, princess. It’s been you and no one else. No other bitch can compare,” he repeats over and over like a mantra, a declaration of his loyalty to you and only you. You swear there’s an extra weight behind his words, but you’re too engrossed in the feeling of utter euphoria this man gives you in mind, body, and soul to give it a second thought. It’s as if you’re walking on Cloud 9 as your pussy clenches around him, back arching in the moment that’s pushing Bakugou to the breaking point

“So damn perfect, you were fucking made for me, baby. Give it to me, cum on my cock,” he pleads, “I know you’re almost there, princess.”

“Yea, ‘suki… Wanna cum for you, you make me feel so good,” you murmur brokenly, voice splintering into an incoherent babble that he finds so endearing, caressing your cheek while deepening his brutal pace. That knot in your tummy tightens and when the cord eventually snaps, you cry out, clutching onto his hand.

Katsuki insists he’s never seen a prettier sight than you finally losing yourself all because of him. It urges him to reach his own high and claim you in the only way he knows how—coming in your pretty cunt and dedicating himself wholly to you.

“Pretty angel, you’re making me crazy over here. Fuck! ‘Bout to blow my whole load inside you. That what you want?”

“Mhm! Please..!” You manage a few urgent pleas before Bakugou finally reaches his limit, groans resonating in the wake of his cock stuttering between your silky folds. His growls reverberate from the depths of his chest, thick with rapture as his body is bathed in the sweet sensation that is your entire being swallowing him whole. Ribbons of his cum paint your insides. You feel so full, both physically and spiritually, your heart bursting with love for the man that was spilling his adoration for you merely seconds ago.

Bodies spent and chests heaving, you lay on the desk with Katsuki on top of you. You don’t notice his hand sneaking under the desk, a click going off that goes equally overlooked, enveloped by your collective pants echoing in the stillness that is his hero office.

After a moment, the sensations catch up to you and the weight of his sweaty, heavy torso makes you squirm.

“Feel sticky…”

“There’s a shower and bath right there.” Bakugou grunts, but there’s playfulness behind his deceptively gruff mannerisms.

Your hands trail over his back at his response. “I know, but can you carry me?”

“Fine. Such a princess…”

“I’m your princess though.” You giggle, a teasing lilt in your carefree tone.

The blond can’t help the grin that finds his features. “Hell yeah you are.”

Bakugou pulls on his uniformed cargo pants to scrounge together some semblance of decency as he cradles you against him. Your body is like jelly in the Pro Hero’s strong arms, barely exercising the strength to hold onto him properly as he moves you to the unnecessarily luxurious bathroom built in his office. While setting you down on the counter next to the sink, the pager in his pocket rings.

“Food’s finally here.” He reaches for a hanger on the door, finding a bathrobe to blanket you in. “I’ll be back.”

You raise a brow. “Going out like that?”

“Relax, I’m putting a shirt on obviously.”

“A shirt, huh?” Not at all convinced, you cross your legs. You and him both know he absolutely reeks of sex. The marks you gave him are also an obvious giveaway. No doubt he’ll be an eye-turner to anyone he crosses paths with at the agency.

“Fine, I’ll have someone bring it up.” He meets you in the middle and you happily oblige, shoo-ing him to go about his business once again. The blond rolls his eyes, exiting the bathroom and out the large double doors of his office to wait at the elevator for his delivery.

And when those doors open with a ding, he’s greeted by the very last person he wishes to see. Swathed in the overbearing odor of her pungent perfume, his secretary stands heel-to-heel in the elevator, eyes crossed and a furious blush penetrating the matte layer of her foundation. Her steps traverse the threshold between the lift and hallway. With hands balled into small fists, she jabs the plastic bag of take-out food into the hero’s chest before wagging her finger at his disinterested demeanor.

“You..! You! How dare you?! Why, I should charge you for sexual harassment for what you did! So uncouth! Barbaric even!” She lectures vehemently, voice dripping with malice akin to the insults she practically spits at his face. The benevolent facade she dons everyday to garner his favor crumbles to pieces before his eyes and Bakugou can’t contain his laughter at the pathetic display.

“What’s so funny?!”

“Oh man, you’re a riot aren’t ya? You coulda very well just turn off your speaker if it bothered you so damn much,” he suggests, but the glint in his expression tells the woman he can see right through her. “But you didn’t, did you? You listened in on the whole thing like a fuckin’ pervert.”

At his deduction, the secretary blushes even harder. The fists at her sides shake with an anger that boils under her skin, melting her composure like the wicked witch of the west.

“Why you..! You’re the pervert here! Don’t think you can turn the situation on me when you’re the one who instigated this!” She points an accusing finger in his direction, an empty threat to the indifferent blond.

The hero barely offers her a scoff. “Me? The instigator? You got some fucking nerve saying that when all month you’ve been coming onto me practically on all fours despite knowing I’m a taken man.” Now it’s his turn to retort with equal venom and then some. His sudden switch in demeanor quickly overwhelms the woman as with every step he takes forward, she grows smaller and smaller.

“What’re you going to do? Tell the media? Report me to the authorities? Make a bunch of baseless rumors on your online blog? Well news flash—unlike you I’m irreplaceable. There won’t ever be another hero that has left as big of a mark on this country as I have, and you know it.” He holds his chest proudly after every word. In his presence, the secretary shrinks, gradually cowering back toward the elevator. Any semblance of nerve she held vanishes in front of her.

“Now start packing your things. If I don’t see your station left spotless by tomorrow morning I’ll make sure your days working for the hero industry are numbered.” It’s a threat she doesn’t dare challenge, wordlessly pressing a button on the panel to descend the floors and flee with her tail between her legs. The flabbergasted expression on her face is the last he sees of her.

And just like that, Katsuki feels a weight evaporate from his shoulders, releasing a deep sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He bounds back to his office with your lunch in tow.

When he returns, he overhears the water running in the bathroom before it’s soon shut off.

“Ah, ‘Suki, you’re back! I just filled the tub with water for our bath.” Your sincere smile meets his eyes which soften at the mere glimpse of you kneeling next to the tub, patiently awaiting his arrival.

“Fuck, babe, you weren’t suppose to move. Should be too sore after what I did t’ya.” He hoists you off the floor and into welcoming arms.

You pout cutely. “C’mon now, I’m not helpless you know.”

“‘Course not. But you’re my princess, remember? All mine.” He settles you both into the depths of the soothing, warm tub, nestling your body against his chest as he presses kisses in every area of tender skin he laid his claim on.

“And I plan to treat you like one for the rest of our lives.”

The very next morning, he finds a letter of resignation on his desk—the very place the two of you had fucked.

#bnha x reader #bnha smut #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha fic #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugo x you #bakugou fic #mha smut #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki smut

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tofupixel · 2 months

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Do you have any advice on how to get into pixeling larger scenes, or how you go about the process? I dabble in pixel art occasionally and am interested in pursuing it more, but whenever I try large scenes I always tend to fall flat

Love your art, by the way!

thank you!

my first step i always go get a ton of references. i think if you are struggling with pixel scenes it can help you to get some pixel art references too. for example if you arent sure how to render a tree, look it up on pixeljoint hall of fame im sure you can find something that inspires you.

this is the moodboard for my current knight crowley/statue azi piece im working on (software is called pureref btw. i have a dedicated monitor just for this but you can do transparency and overlay it if you lack space)

i think this is mostly preference but i always begin working with large areas of value/colour rather than an actual line sketch

i usually only save the wip process if im sending it to clients, so here is an example of how i worked through a commission

at this point im just going for the vibes. colour is more important and shape/size and having random pixels everywhere doesnt matter cos u can just remove them later !!

its kind of an anomaly/doomsday thing so i wanted the red sky and chaos all over

i work really quickly at this point and try for energy

just beginning to work my way through and detail things up. im still changing things around and adding more stuff in different places. its digital art so you can change things however you like, just keep moving forward

final ver sent to client after some revisions. pixel art is 99% rendering so you just need to keep pushing forward

i also want to say i did like 3+ years of sporadic studies. mostly studio ghibli and shishkin. if you have someone who inspires you you can study their work and figure out how they do it.

it cant be overstated how many of these i have done lol and im still not even close to where i want to be (its a process)

anyway sorry for the long post but you really should go for it. ive done the same concept like 3 times over my career (so far) cos i enjoyed it and want to come back to it now that im a little better. so u dont have to make it perfect the first time but doing it is better than not doing it!

sorry for the long post but i kinda got carried away anyway lmk if u want more specific tips i like talking about pixel art :--3 GL with your art

#qna #pixel art #pixel art tutorial #art tutorial #tutorial

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theold-ultraviolence · 1 year

Text

Patch

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x reader

Summary: Aemond and you come across a one-eyed puppy at the farmer's market. // Words: 1k// A/N: Besties, this is just pure self-indulgent, tooth-rotting fluff. Listen, I know I have many wips, but it's been raining like crazy and I've had this soft scenario in my head for days. Hope this isn't too OC lol.

The light drizzle falling outside your window was the perfect excuse for you and Aemond to stay the whole Sunday in bed. Your partner was just too warm and comfy, with his long limbs tangled around you under the covers.

Plus, he’d never been one to turn down an offer to stay in bed – being the major home-body that he is – which is why it’s beyond you, why he gets up from the bed and shakes you insistently, urging you to get dressed so you could carry on with your regular weekend plans of going down to the farmer’s market for breakfast.

He throws your coat on the bed while you sit there rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes, before reluctantly doing as he wishes.

Although you couldn’t really complain, when the rain also gives you the chance stay close to him under the black umbrella that he holds in one hand, while his other is tightly linked with yours, walking through the endless booths and tents of the market.

He’d gotten you parfaits with fruit before indulging in a couple of croissants that were all the right kinds of buttery and fluffy, with hot drinks to warm up from the cold weather.

Whatever resistance you’d had completely washed away, much like the dirt on the cobblestone paths thanks to the rain that was now beginning to subside.

With your full bellies and content hearts, you keep wandering around, arm in arm, when suddenly something makes Aemond halt in his step.

First thing you register is a bout of barking, turning to find a puppy biting Aemond’s ankle before standing on his hind legs to rest paw at Aemond’s pants.

The puppy barks and barks and jumps like an unstoppable ball of energy all over Aemond, making him all flustered and frozen for the sudden attention – before he kneels down, chuckling as the puppy immediately attacks Aemond’s face with kisses.

An old man sitting on the sidewalk laughs at the sight; he’s in a heavy raincoat, sitting with a cardboard box of puppies by his side.

“This is the first time he’s ever run up to someone!” He calls to you both with a gruff voice. “He normally recoils from strangers and is so quiet. I’ve never seen that little fella this excited.”

Aemond chuckles while trying not to fall back from how aggressive the puppy is with his affections – he scoops his small body up in his arms and rocks him as if he was a little baby – and that’s when he notices.

His heart sinks at the sight of the puppy’s missing eye – the same one that Aemond lacked, and that he covered with an eyepatch.

You realize just a second later, heart forming a tight fist within your chest.

The puppy’s got the face of a little angel, looking up at Aemond as if he was his whole world, with his big, glistening black eye and his tongue out. His fur is short, but so soft looking and a little bit curly, and is the color of salt and pepper – race unknown.

“What happened to him?” You ask the man, as you kneel beside Aemond and the pup.

“I found him and the rest of the pups abandoned in an alley. It was his crying that got my attention in the first place. I took him and his siblings to the vet but it was too late for the little one. The rest are a lively group but him – he’s always been really quiet. Doesn’t like playing with the rest and gets anxious around strangers.”

A hopeful smile rises in the man’s lips when he sees just how loving the puppy is being with Aemond.

Aemond merely smirks back shyly, before looking back down at the tiny baby in his arms, who’s paws were wiggling up in the air as if he was running, with his tongue out as if he was grinning with glee from Aemond scratching his tummy.

“Yes, I think I can relate to this one.” He murmurs a little brokenly, but only you can hear the change of pitch in his tone.

When he’d confided the story of his own missing eye to you, you’d embraced him tightly, and had carefully kissed the scar that now traversed his left cheek.

All his life he’d been heavily bullied by his own family. His brother and cousins teased him about an array of mindless things that you could never comprehend, and at last, when he got the courage to defend himself, he’d been hurt. Pushed down to the gravel by his young nephew Luke, face landing right on a spiky rock as he fell.

It’s part of the reason why he’s so quiet and reserved. Why his trust isn't given easily.

When you’d first met him in college – you’d been instantly attracted to him, no doubt, but you couldn’t deny how intimidating he was. Soon you realized that he was simply desperate for affection, without a clue as to how to ask for it, or give it. But with consistency, time, a lot of patience and even more love and devotion, you’d found out just what an enormous heart Aemond had locked away within him, and you considered yourself immensely fortunate to be the one to care for it.

With an arm around Aemond, you ask the man “Are they up for adoption?” to which he nods. “How much for him?”

The owner shakes his head, brows furrowing earnestly as he looks up at the young pup, “Nothing at all. I just ask that he gets taken care of properly, gets his shots at the vet and goes to a loving home. I’d love to be sent photos to see how the little one is doing.”

He gazes at the three of you with nothing but heartfelt gratitude pouring from his eyes, as he stands up to go kneel beside Aemond, and give the puppy one final pet.

“Does he have a name?” Aemond asks – smiling as the pup clings to his shoulders, vigorously licking his cheeks and neck and nose, every lasting inch of Aemond’s face that he can reach.

“Nah, not yet. But I call him Patch because of the little tuft of black hair that he has on the spot of his missing eye. Looks like an eye-patch.”

The three of you chuckle, and Aemond leans back to look at his new son, with his thumbs caressing the puppy’s cheeks and ears lovingly.

“Patch.” Aemond softly repeats to himself, testing the name on his tongue and making the puppy bark enthusiastically.

“You think he’ll get along with Vaghar?” You ask, referring to Aemond’s great dane. An old lady that had been with him ever since his accident – who’d been his one and only friend until you came into the picture.

Aemond's face illuminates with a smile so big and bright like you’d never seen before on – the kind of smile that reveals those handsome dimples on his face that are otherwise hidden. “She was the only one to comfort me back then, I don’t think she’ll have a problem with Patch. After all, this little one and I are alike in many ways, it would seem.”

The sound of Aemond’s laughter is one you want to keep forever, as he stands up, bringing Patch up in his arms and giving him a kiss on his delicate head.

You thank the man on behalf of the two of you, then exchange phone numbers to keep in touch and send him updates on the puppy.

Later that night, when the three of you are cuddled up in bed watching a movie whilst Vaghar slept in her own bed downstairs, you realized that maybe this was fated all along. You were meant to carry out your Sunday plans, regardless of a little rain.

For Aemond was meant to cross paths with a little angel of his own, in the form of a loving puppy to keep softening up all of his hard edges.

And rainy days, from now on, it wouldn't ever be gray and daunting as long as you had your very own patch of sunshine to keep you company.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #modern!aemond #gender neutral reader #hotd #house of the dragon #reader insert fanfiction #my writing #ewan mitchell

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eliteseven · 1 month

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Not the same anon but I would also love jealous Shadowheart HCs. A one shot would be amazing if you can but no pressure!

Lolllll

Jealous Shadowheart HC's, by Popular Demand (3 ppl).

I've long said this, but Shadowheart doesn't do jealousy. I think she's never had to. She grew up in the cloister- we know she mentioned having secret trysts or flings or w/e, but no serious relationships. She thought she was training to be a weapon, really. So...relationships- monogamy- I don't know if it ever crossed her mind? Probably not her scene.

Also, while I love her confidence, "I know I'm beautiful, but it's nice of you to say" etc. I think she's accustomed to suitors bending over backwards for her, but a lot of the time it was superficial- none of them knew her, it was purely physical.

All this to say: she's never had the inclination of being possessive of anyone, until...Tav.

Tav comes along with her stupidly tender touches and that look she gives Shadowheart, like she's the most resplendent being she's ever met. Shadowheart realizes she wants that all to herself forever. But Tav loves everything about her- her temper, her less than composed moments. For the first time in her life, Shadowheart's in love 💕

Shadowheart isn't oblivious- Tav is beautiful, she's going to get her fair share of attention. Tav's a people person, and she has a background in nobility- which meant a lot of schmoozing and cajoling. She has a way of enticing people- but unlike Shadowheart, she's never really weaponized it. She isn't really aware of how she draws people in (which pisses Shart off lol)

Most of the time, Shadowheart is content to let it happen. But for those lingering gazes on Tav? The way the barmaid touches her arm when she leans over suggestively to serve her? Nah Shadowheart is not standing for it! She will tilt Tav's chin and kiss her senseless in front of the entire tavern. If there are bedrooms (or perhaps even a hidden corner) Shadowheart is making use of them immediately.

Maybe it's a little residual Sharran domme energy in her, but Shadowheart expresses her discontent in the bedroom by marking Tav up. The camp pretends not to notice Tav's neck the next morning. (Tav fully encourages this behavior 😅)

The one subject that riles Shadowheart up every time: Tav's past in Cormyr. I won't mince words- Tav was a noble, pent up in her estate with stuffy rules, dying to live, bound for an arranged marriage she wanted no part of.... When Tav gets to Cormyr, she has a time. 👀 She might not be as experienced as Shadowheart, but she's certainly picked up a thing or ten in the near decade she was there.

If Tav has a "close friend" from her past in Cormyr that she references fondly every once in a while, whew...Shadowheart can't help but imagine who might have had her Tav wrapped around their finger.

Now, IF Shadowheart were to ever meet this friend, say she made it to the cottage for some ungodly reason:

Shart would obviously try to play it cool (She's too proud to admit she's jealous outright). Instead, she's draping herself across Tav, sitting on her lap, stealing kisses. She's generally very kind hearted now, but idk I can see her reverting back to her old ways for a bit. She’s definitely making some of those famous biting comments.

Tav tries to defuse it and keep her even keeled but sometimes it's so hard bc Shadowheart is pettyyyyy 😭💀

Tav: So, why don't we swap stories? Do you remember-

Shart: Yes, Tav, do you remember the night we bathed in the pools outside the House of the Moon and you spread my-

Tav: -Anyway, have you met Buttons?!

(I will try my best on the one shot but I have so many WIP's at the moment so maybe we can work it in elsewhere?)

#bg3 #shadowheart x tav #nls series #oc: serena tavyndír #anonymous #ask #my hcs

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a-twistedheartslonging · 2 months

Note

Note i added this specific interjection after i wrote the ask: This ended up being an unintendedly long ass ramble so if it is too much and it's not really clicking with ya then ignore it, i just really like the nonhuman au so i ended up rambling because i like reading concepts and stories in general cause it's fun and it makes me motivated to write but this ended up becoming a bit long so no worries if it's too much and it doesn't click.

Love love love your nonhuman au

So so so fun

It's inspiring and i love to read folks ideas and concepts because it motivates me to write my own stuff (i have so many damn WIPs 😅) when i see people popping off with their stories and concepts lol

Also i feel like one of the funniest ideas to me is an mc/yuu who is kinda oblivious to romantic intent but only because they're just very physically affectionate and are willing to get their need for affection needs met if that makes sense. Like if they need to find friends then they'll find themselves something (online or in their area) and if they need friends that are chill with physical platonic affection then they'll do their best to find em. Also when i say oblivious to romantic intent, it's not necessarily low emotional intelligence (they can clock if someone's upset and can pinpoint connections between others but they tend to forget to include themselves in the equation if that makes sense) but since they're very high energy and affectionate (plus willing to go get that need for platonic affections met) the usual subtleties of some of the cast romantic affections tend to overlap with their platonic affectionate actions.

Hand holding? They hold hands with whoever with little thought. Holding Deuces paw/claw registers the same as holding Grim's paw in terms of affection. They'll hold the sleeve of a buddy cause that's their buddy dang it and if they aren't shaken off then they'll keep holding until they need to go do their thing or need both hands.

Leaning on another? Cuddling? Sure sure! They did this with their previous friends and family and such. Lean on whoever is trusted enough and willing

Part of the reason they're romantically oblivious is because they forget to take themselves into the equation for social dynamics when figuring out why folks are reacting and behaving in certain ways plus human flirting is hard to clock as it tends to overlap with friendliness and helpfulness/politeness and thus appear similar so trying to clock flirting in another world while not being great at identifying in the first place means Mc/Yuu just ain't gonna clock it.

That sounds pretty cute.

I feel like a few guys are gonna end up using Twisted Wonderlands ver of google to look up "How do humans flirt" and "How to court humans"

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #nonhuman au

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lahooozaherr · 1 year

Text

Chick at a Rock Concert

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x Fem!Agent!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 5.8k

MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI. AGELESS/BLANK ACCOUNT WILL BE BLOCKED.

Summary: You’re a Kingsman agent and tag along for a mission at a music festival, looking for a distraction after the lingering loss of your fellow agents. Jack takes immediate notice of you, sparking a mutual attraction between the two of you. When he’s rejected by the “chick at a rock concert”, you take the opportunity to spend the day with him. That day leads into a night of even more fun.

Warnings: fem!reader, soft dom!Whiskey, age gap sorta (Age not specified for reader, Jack’s ego is just bruised), daddy kink if you squint (Jack refers to himself as it a few times, no hard feelings if you wanna just replace the word in your head because this isn’t a ddlg dynamic), praise kink, smut, oral (f receiving) p in v, soft turning into rough sex, cockwarming, dirty talk, pet names, no physical description of reader and “festival outfit” is left vague, smol amount of angst

A/N: I’m ngl this is pretty self indulgent. It’s been a brain rot simmering in my head for a few weeks. I just have a feeling Jack would go nuts over someone who tries to match his energy while wearing one of those sexy music festival outfits lol. Jack is one of my faves and I hope I’m able to do him justice. I’ve debated making this a one shot series or something to weave into the story of the movie but we’ll see lol. I did my best to keep the reader’s “backstory” vague. This is also my first smut, so kind-of practice for when I get to that point in my current Mando WIP. Also not beta read :D

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist

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The mission was pretty simple, and you probably weren’t needed for it. But the previous days for you and your very few remaining Kingsman peers had been a disaster, to say the least. You volunteered to come along, knowing it was at a popular music festival. It was still work but it was also the small “break” you needed to have a moment away from the grief and sadness over losing so much. You just needed something, anything, to help forget for the time being.

You picked out a cheeky festival outfit, not uncommon for these kinds of events. Might as well try to blend in, you told yourself. Weaving through the crowd, you set to find Eggsy through the sea of eccentric festival goers.

—

Eggsy had too much on his mind and was reeling from the current realization of how this mission was about to go down. Agent Whiskey demonstrated with his fingers and a subtle explanation of how to plant the tracking device on the target.

“Where is that other agent of y’all’s?” Whiskey asks, an undertone of annoyance in his voice as he takes a swig of his flask.

Eggsy stops walking, “she should be meeting with us any minute now. She told me she’s here already.”

Whiskey and Eggsy, while looking for you, had also spotted the mission's target. A woman lounging at one of the many outdoor bars of the event. Eggsy’s heartbeat quickens, he’s dreading every minute of this. But this mission is too important and he knows that.

Jack scoffs, “takin’ her sweet time, our girl is right over there.”

“Ah! There she is!” Eggsy shuts Whiskey down. Before he can continue to complain, he looks up towards you. His jaw hangs a little after Eggsy points you out as you stride towards them.

This was your first time physically meeting Whiskey, despite technically being in the same room as the “meeting” with Statesman’s leader, Champ. But you didn’t have glasses at the time that would allow you to see a projection of him in his seat. You couldn’t help but stare back at him as you got closer to the two.

Ginger warned you about him when she helped you set up for this mission. Telling you he’s a huge flirt and will likely make a pass at you. You didn’t exactly mind though, you weren’t afraid of a flirtatious encounter. You requested to read his file and after doing so, you really felt for him. You wanted to see the good in others, to understand them. And based on his past you could tell he’s been through a lot, and it’s probably complicated. You could at least empathize with him.

Aside from that, what’s wrong with wanting to have some fun? Maybe you both could help each other forget, just a little bit.

He drank in the sight of you in the outfit you’d chosen, and suddenly you were not regretting it because you could tell. You found yourself doing the same to him. He’s attractive, broad shouldered and golden skinned. He wore a Stetson, white T-shirt, leather jacket and jeans that did a beautiful job of capturing the shape of his slender hips and legs. A sharp nose and jawline, clean shave save for pouty lips with a perfectly groomed mustache atop them.

Approaching them, you sigh, “so sorry to make you guys wait, this place is packed!”

Whiskey seemed to be momentarily frozen until Eggsy breaks the silence with a clearing of his throat. He introduces you to him by your code name and actual name.

“And uhm, this is Agent Whiskey-“

“Jack. Jack Daniels.” Cutting Eggsy off while taking a large step towards you, not hiding the way his eyes take a quick look at you, up and down. He holds his hand out for you and you take it with a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jack.” Hearing you choose to use his actual name sends a thrill through him. A grin creeps across his lips, “darlin’, the pleasure is all mine.” He lifts your hand to his lips to leave a small, chaste kiss. You can’t help but giggle, both at the act and Eggsy giving a very exaggerated eye roll from behind him.

Jack’s eyes are a dark, chocolate brown and you don’t break the eye contact he maintains with you. They almost sparkle.

“Anyways, our target is right over there.” Eggsy interjects. Jack jerks upright and clears his throat, letting go of your hand.

Jack takes a swig of his flask, “watch and learn, buddy.” He puffs his chest and struts towards the bar.

————————————————————————-

Watching Jack get rejected like that was…rough, to say the least. You couldn’t help but quietly snicker, watching Eggsy so swiftly capture the attention of the woman away from Jack’s failed attempt at hitting on her.

He frowns deeply and glares, walking away. You decide it’s safe to let Eggsy take the reins and catch up to Jack.

“I’m not going to lie, that was a little hard to watch,” you say to him. He stops walking and looks at you, unamused. You shrug it off and continue, “that’s ok though. Why don’t we enjoy the festival?”

Jack lets out a deep sigh and turns his head, “darlin’, you don’t want to hang out with an ‘old man’ like me.” The way he says the words “old man” is a mocking echo of what Eggsy had called him in front of that woman. Dang, he took that pretty personally. You imagine you probably would too, if you were in his shoes.

You decided to take this opportunity to rekindle the flame on that brief “chemistry” you had with him earlier. You boldly insert one of your arms into his elbow.

With a lilt in your voice, batting your lashes at him you say, “I prefer men who are experienced, anyways.”

That seemed to do the trick of snapping him out of this small depressive slump. That sparkle returned to his eyes and his smile widened, revealing his perfect white teeth.

“Oh sugar, I can be that and more.” He wraps his free hand around yours in the crook of his elbow and you both continue on into the crowd.

—————————————————————————

At some point, after wandering for a bit, you both found a space in the grass field, a far distance out from one of the stages. Both of you are lounging and basking in the sun. Hours had passed before you had realized it, the two of you were too distracted by each other and your conversation to even notice.

Jack’s personality was provocative, fiery and passionate. His cheesy pick up lines worked on you, in a way. He took joy in sharing interesting stories he kept up his sleeve that hooked your attention. He described various close calls he’d had in the field, especially from when he was younger. You listened intently and never broke away from him.

He laid out on his back, arms braced behind himself in the grass. Next to him, you’d opted to rest on your front, propped up on your elbows and your legs kicked up behind you. The angle giving him a front row seat to your cleavage.

Here and there you’d notice the way he’d look you up and down, but you preened under his gaze. There was an obvious attraction between the two of you and neither of you tried to hide it.

When you were deep in telling your own story, one that caused you to shift into sitting on your bottom, he took one of your hands in both of his large hands. He rubbed his thumbs across your knuckles and carefully inspected your palm and fingers, absentmindedly, as you spoke.

You let out a deep sigh, “spending time with you today has been a breath of fresh air, thank you.” That might have come out more sentimental than you intended but life has been a wild ride lately. “I don’t know whether I’m going up or down anymore….”

Jack’s facial expression softens and he squeezes your hand in one of his, “anytime, darlin’. In some ways, I’ve been in your shoes before. It never gets easier.” His tone was even and more serious. You knew he understood. It comes with the type of job you’ve both found yourselves in.

“However,” you start, “I’m thankful we found the Statesmen. I don’t know what we’d be doing if it weren’t for you all. I don’t know if finding who did this will fill the hole in my heart but something has to be done.”

Jack sits up and leans towards you, “a hole in your heart, huh?”

Your face heats up, “I-I mean, that’s the best way I can describe it I guess.”

“No no, I understand. I’ve just never heard it put that way….” He pauses, his eyes briefly drift off and then come back to yours. His other hand reaching to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, a shiver runs up your spine. You’ve lost yourself in his eyes and never want to come back up for air.

“Don’t you worry, sugar. We will make things right.”

—————————————————————————

This mission ended up being pretty easy, at least for the two of you it did. You felt bad for Eggsy. Jack later explained how and WHERE the tracker had to be placed, and you could imagine the inner turmoil that that had caused. Or even worse, the possible relationship problems it could cause for him.

When Jack described to you what he had told Eggsy to do with the tracker, your face heats up. Jack on the other hand, winked and flashed a white toothed grin. He had assumed he would be the one doing the deed but it looked like the universe had other plans, and you certainly didn’t mind.

The bright, sunny day had started to fade into night. The sky progressed from a beautiful orange sunset into a deep purple. Some stars could be seen above the continuing hustle and bustle of the festival. You hadn’t heard from Eggsy since leaving him and you started to grow concerned. Standing off to the side of one of the festival's exits, you called him. Jack stood near you, hands on his hips as he waited.

Your call to Eggsy goes to voicemail and just as you’re about to hang up and try again, you get a text notification from him.

It’s done, I’ve let Ginger know. I’ll meet back up with both of you tomorrow.

You read this aloud so Jack could hear, he rolls his eyes and shrugs. You snicker, “are you really still bitter about him stealing your thunder?”

“Hey now….” He gently grabs your elbows and brings you close to him. Wrapping one hand around your waist and the other pinching your chin and stroking from your cheeks to your jawline. His eyes meet yours and they’re dark, reflecting his growing hunger. Whatever sass you were about to quip out immediately evaporates, leaving you a melting mess in his arms. Your own breath slowed and you returned his gaze under fluttering lashes.

His voice dips an octave and he stares deeply into your eyes, “Ol’ Jack never lost his thunder.” A shiver runs up your spine once again and you smile bashfully. Your eyes drifted to the side in an attempt to hide the flustered heat on your face. He hums, using his thumb and forefinger to delicately redirect your eyes back to his.

“Don’t hide from me.”

After a day full of flirting and building sexual tension, you make a snap decision. Bringing your arms up and draping them around his neck, chest against his. You hold his gaze a few seconds more while he adjusts his hands to sit on either side of your waist.

“Well then, Cowboy,” you say, echoing back the same low, husky tone. “Would you say ‘mission accomplished’?”

Jack hums in amusement, happy to see you rise to his challenge.

“Not yet, sugar. Still haven’t hooked up with a chick at a rock concert.”

It feels like a burst of butterflies in your stomach. Heat pooling in your stomach and thankful his hands are on you because otherwise you feel like you’d float away.

You flash him a sultry grin, “I think I can make that happen.” His face brightens as you shift your hands down from his shoulders to his firm pecs. His large hands explore up and down your back, his body is warm and inviting. You could smell the musk of his chosen cologne for today. Touching him like this after a day full of passive brushes and small gestures felt like finally drinking water in a parched desert.

“But on one condition,” you add, lowering your voice.

Jack quirks an eyebrow at you, “tell me, beautiful.”

Your eyes flick up to his hat and back down to him, his eyes following you. You maneuver yourself closer to his head, bringing your lips close to his ear.

“I want to wear your hat while I ride you,” you whisper.

The next thing you hear is a deep growl erupting from his chest. In one swift move he has one hand on the back of your neck and pulls you into a deep kiss. You mutually feel like a dam has finally broken.

The kiss is long as you both exhale and hum into each other’s mouths. He licks into your mouth and in return you gently bite his bottom lip, almost sending him into a frenzy.

Jack, almost painfully unlatches himself from you. His eyes meet yours, dilated and blown out on lust. A dark chuckle escapes his mouth and he pins you close to him with both hands behind your neck, using his thumbs to balance your jaw. The act itself sends arousal coursing furiously through your veins. You’re going to be a puddle before you can even leave the festival.

Jack grabs your hand and leads you alongside him, back to his Bronco. You both run and giggle like teenagers in love trying to sneak around. When you approach his car, he opens his passenger side door and lets you in. He dashes to the driver's side and buckles in.

With one hand on the steering wheel, he uses the other to wrap around you and bring you close to him, buckling you into the middle seat. Then, with smooth precision, he reverses out of his space and makes his way out of the parking lot and towards his hotel.

—————————————————————————

Jack’s Bronco screeches to a halt in the driveway of the hotel. Within seconds he exits and is at the passenger side letting you out.

He wraps his arm around you and brings you close into his side as he walks towards the entrance. His hand gives the meat of your thigh a small grip and you yelp. Jack throws his keys to the valet boy and struts inside.

Once at the elevator, Jack scans a key that sends it to the private suite up top. Of course he would have a private, fancy suite you think to yourself. You both enter the elevator, his hand on the small of your back guiding you in.

Once the doors closed, you’re on each other. A flurry of gnashing teeth and grabbing hands. He pushes you against the corner of the elevator with both hands on your waist. You wrap both arms around his neck, one hand stroking the hair at the nape of his neck, using his body to balance you.

His hand trails upward to grip the back of your neck, threading through the hair that grows there. He breaks away from your lips, using his grip to carefully tilt your head back, exposing your neck. Trailing heated kisses up and down, murmuring in between each.

Jack’s going to treat you right, don’t you worry babydoll.

I’ve been thinking about this all damn day.

You had been thinking about this all day too, unashamedly.

You moan when feeling his pelvis grind up against you. He’s already very hard and the sounds he pulls from you only serve to excite him further. Just as he’s about to slip a hand underneath the hem of your shirt, the elevator dings and opens up into the suite.

The hotel suite is massive. A living room with a kitchen to the side. Further in is a doorway to the suite’s master bedroom. The trip there becomes a mix of kissing, groping, and removing articles of just your clothing one by one until you’re brought to the edge of the bed wearing only your bra and panties. Looking around the room you see it break off into an open, large bathroom with a claw foot tub and glass door shower.

The back of your knees hits the edge of the mattress, with Jack gently pushing into you as you sit. Your hands come up to undo his belt buckle, but his hands grab yours to stop you.

“Not yet, gorgeous,” he says with a husky tone. “Daddy’s going to have his way with you first.”

You’ve decided you will never get tired of the nicknames. They cause your heart to hammer in your chest and you love every second of it.

Your arms drop back to your sides on the bed. Jack licks his lower lip and leans over to reach behind you to unlatch your bra. Once it’s free, he slowly slips it off your shoulders and discards it to the side.

He proceeds to gently guide you to lay on the bed. His hands grab under your knees to bring your legs up, feet resting on the bed. Finally, he loops both forefingers into the sides of your panties and pulls them off, joining your bra on the floor. Following that is his leather jacket.

Standing up straight and resting one hand on each of your knees, he pauses. His eyes rake you over and he hums.

“Lemme get a good look ‘atcha.”

The sight of you beneath him, naked and vulnerable, is downright breathtaking to him. Your breathing is heavy, your eyes hooded and lips parted and swollen. He’s proud to have been able to rile you up like this. He grabs his Stetson off his head and sets it on the other corner of the mattress.

Watching him look you over sends a buzz through your body and centers on your core. However, you need his touch, right now.

“Jack, please….”

“Please, what?” Thumbs tracing the inner sides of your knees. “Tell me, gorgeous.”

“T-touch me…” You manage to stutter out. “Please touch me, right now.”

Immediately, Jack drops to his knees on the floor and grips your thighs to scoot your bottom to the edge of the bed. He leaves small kisses on your inner thighs making his way to your heat. He goes right into it, flattening his tongue and running it up your folds. One hand reaches up to massage your breast, rolling his thumb over your nipple. You bite your lip in response.

It feels like a shock to your system, sending slick to gather between your thighs. Back arching, soft pants as you send a hand down to card through his soft hair. You suddenly feel one of his fingers circle your opening and insert. You almost cry out but stop yourself by biting the knuckles of your other hand.

“Jack….Jack, oh my god….”

“Mmmm gorgeous, you taste better than I had even imagined.”

His finger slides in and out, rubbing your clenching walls. Not too long after, he inserts another finger, earning another loud moan from you. The fire at the base of your spine rapidly grows brighter and brighter, causing you to involuntarily begin to buck against his face. His tongue and lips expertly sucking, licking and laving on and around your sensitive bud. His free hand sliding up to cup your knee and keep your legs apart.

You cry out and whimper the closer you get to your limit, beginning to see stars. You were not prepared for how good he is at this. His fingers grip the meat of your thighs and squeeze, holding you steady while he rubs his face deeper.

“You going to cum for me, sugar? Come on baby, I got’cha,” Jack cooes.

That’s enough to send you over the edge, feeling you clench down on his fingers as you climax. Murmurs of That’s it, show Daddy what you got through your loud moans. Your vision fades to black, you reward his ministrations with cries of Yes, yes…oh my god Jack, yes!

After working you through your first orgasm, he stands up and rests his hands on either of your knees. He watches your panting, heaving chest. His hands shoot forward, tenderly grabbing both of your breasts in his hands. You make a small, strangled noise in response and then hum.

“That was…..amazing,” you say between small gasps, still regaining your breath.

Jack smiles wide and crooked, “that’s just the start, gorgeous.”

Jack finally starts to really let go of his restraint with you, moving to make quick work of removing his clothes. When you attempt to sit up, his hand immediately pushes you back down and wags his finger with a tut from his mouth. “So needy. But I’m going to take my time.”

His words cause something between a moan and giggle to come from you, biting your lip while you watch him undo his ridiculous belt buckle. He sees you eyeing it and quirks an eyebrow, “Should I use this on you? Wrap it around your pretty wrists?”

A light forms in your eyes and you shake your head yes, excitement building in your stomach and between your thighs. “I’d love that, Jack.”

“I’m sure you would, darlin’,” he says silkily.

The last thing to be stripped off is his underwear, cock springing forward red and heavy.

Jack positions himself between your thighs, arms caging your head and your upper bodies melding together. His lips meet yours in a fevered kiss while you stretch your arms out above your head to give easier access to you.

His tongue runs along your bottom lip and you grant him access, his tongue quickly overpowering yours and licking into your mouth. It’s almost difficult keeping up with his passionate kissing.

Your eyes open to meet him when he stops and his gaze is still dark and hungry. Those warm brown eyes only added to melt you into the trembling mess you're becoming at his expert fingertips.

Jack starts to trail down your body, nipping and kissing your jawline, moving down to gently scrape his teeth across your collarbone. Taking one breast in one hand while the other supports him above you. He takes your nipple in his mouth and you arch into him, sending electricity through your nerves. Arousal starts to build back up in between your thighs.

“You’re so perfect,” Jack says breathily. “I can wait much longer. Are you ready for me, gorgeous?”

Your eyes cast down to meet him as he continues to lap at your breasts, “Yes Jack, please. I need you.”

“Welll….” He drawls. “Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t give my girl what she needs?”

Taking his length in his hand, he lines himself up with your opening, sliding it through your slick folds and coating himself. Then slowly, but surely, he begins to insert. The stretch around him feels amazing and takes your breath right out of your lungs.

Jack almost loses himself doing this, and he’s not even all the way in. Jack has quite a length himself, he knows this. Hence the need to prepare you like he did. He lets out a low groan from his chest as he buries himself in your wet cunt.

His face is right above yours, lips brushing as you breath in each other's air while he adjusts himself. You widen your legs to give him more space to sink himself in, he rolls his hips to enter gradually. After a few rocks of his hips, he’s into the hilt.

You can’t help but cry out and the sound is music to his ears. His hips start a steady, rolling pace with each thrust increasing the volume of your wanton moans. You can feel every inch of him dragging against your walls.

He feels almost impossibly deep as he picks up his pace. You arch your back from his bed, your chest becoming flush with his. The feeling of your soft breasts against his chest elicits a deep moan from the back of his throat.

One of his hands cups your cheek as he lowers his face to your ear on the opposite side. Just when you thought you couldn’t possibly take in any more different sensations, his hot breath fans over your skin while singing you praises.

Atta girl, that’s it, I’ve got you.

Oh you take me so well…so well.

Can you give me another? Come on gorgeous, I know you can.

The coil in your stomach tightens and tightens but you can’t seem to find the end of it. You open your mouth to say something but you’re not sure what. You just need more and more of him.

“Oh….I….” You can barely stutter out, your vision turning white. He nudges your temple with his nose then lays a sensual kiss.

“Do you need more? Tell Jack what you need.”

“Yes…yes please, I-I need more!” You finally manage to breathe out.

Jack’s eyes meet yours with a glint of mischief and a crooked grin to match. With one hand bracing above your head and the other snaking down to grip your lower back and waist.

“Hold on tight sugar and get ready to giddy-up!”

In a split second he stops thrusting, using his muscular body to swiftly roll over his side to his back while bringing you with him placing you on top. When adjusted, you allow yourself to sink down onto him, creating a whole new myriad of stimulation.

Jack marvels at the sight of you atop of him, puffing his chest in pride. Both of you breathily laugh as you adjust. A sheen of sweat has gathered across the soft skin of your body and shines in the lowlight of the bedroom.

At first you stay put, feeling the new depth of his cock inside of you. Conveniently, you remember what you told him earlier. You turn to find his hat still perched on the corner of the bed, stretching your arm out to grab it. He watches you carefully as you gently grab the top of his precious Stetson.

Turning back to look at him, flashing him a seductive look, you place his hat on top of your head. You lick your bottom lip and bite it, placing your hands on his chest to keep your balance. “Let’s go for a ride, cowboy.”

Jack grins back at you dangerously, “oh babydoll you’re going to be the death of me!”

He shifts and plants his legs into the bed, straightening his knees to give him leverage. He ruts his hips up into yours and sets a punishing pace, resulting in a loud, erotic moan erupting from your chest. Taking that as encouragement, he digs his fingers into your hips to keep you steady while the head of his cock strokes that spot deep inside of you.

The coil in your stomach starts to tighten again and you clench around him. You can feel your next orgasm start to barrel towards you. The sound of skin slapping and your mutual gasps and moans intertwining fills your ears. You haven’t broken eye contact with him and it only adds to the fire deep in his own abdomen.

Your legs start to shake as you cum hard around him, riding out the blissful shockwaves. His cock continuing to fuck up into you and giving the perfect amount of overstimulation for you to ride it out.

“Fuck! F-fuck, oh Jack-“

“Theeeere we go, that’s it, come on Sugar, you can take it!”

Jack takes one large hand and reaches out to rub his thumb against your clit, sending you over the cliff.

At the tail end of your explosive orgasm, you collapse onto his chest. He removes his hat to the side and wraps his arms around your torso, bringing his lips down to your ear to whisper again.

You did so good gorgeous.

Christ almighty girl, can you hear that? You’ve soaked me to the bone.

You begin to whimper and shake. Not sure what to do with your arms, you stretch them out behind you. Jack takes the opportunity to grab both wrists into one hand while the other is still wrapped around your back. Giving him just enough leverage to keep up with the pounding of his hips.

Jack’s own orgasm is very close, your overstimulated pussy fluttering around his length. His eyes roll to the back of his head, “I’m almost there sugar, w-where do you want me?”

You can barely speak while you dissolve into pleasure as you rest on his broad chest. You manage to spit out “inside…on pill….please, inside….”while burying yourself in the crook of his neck.

Jack’s position inside of you practically has his lower back hover above the bed with his legs keeping him up. He suddenly tenses up, hips stutter, and he finally crashes into his own orgasm. His thrusts begin to slow but ride out the pulsing of his cock as it shoots ropes into your tight, wet cunt.

With a loud, satisfied sigh, he relaxes onto the bed. Stretching his legs to rest on the plush mattress. You feel the deep rise and fall of his chest underneath your own. Lifting your head to see his eyes wrenching open to meet yours. He smiles, and you smile back, scooting up to kiss him. He welcomes your lips with a hum and molds his mouth around yours.

The two of you stay like this for a few moments, sated and content. You just know you’re going to be feeling him the next day and you’re sure he’ll love to know that.

Eventually his cock slips out of you as he rolls both of you to your sides, facing each other as closely as you can. He rubs his nose against yours and you giggle.

“Jack…that was phenomenal.”

“I know sugar, I was there,” he drawls, southern accent even more present.

You chuckle and playfully slap his shoulder, his hand reaches around to grab your ass cheek to bring you closer to him.

Jack brings his other arm up to wrap around you between the bed and your arm. He holds you close to him, planting a soft kiss atop your head.

“Thank you sugar,” he murmurs.

You rub your head into the crook of his neck, “thank you? For what?”

“For giving this ‘old man’ a chance.”

Your hand comes up to splay across his pectoral above his heart and you feel his quickened heartbeat underneath your palm. Your own heart is also rapidly beating in tandem. You then bring your hand up to caress his cheek, he closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

“That girl has no idea what she missed out on,” you say, tenderly. “But I’m glad it ended up this way.”

Jack looks deep into your eyes and feels like his heart might burst. He didn’t mean to take the rejection so hard, but what he ended up with was far times better.

Be brings up the comforter on the bed to cover you as he slips out of it. You pout at him in protest, sitting up until he pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, teasingly shushing you.

“Ssshh, sweet girl, just hold on tight for a minute.”

With a light kiss to your forehead as you lay back down, nestling yourself into the soft bed, he treks to the bathroom. You hear him rustling for a few minutes, the sink turning on and off and then the sound of the tub filling. He comes back with a cloth, you catch onto his intent and move the blanket to give him access. Softly, he cleans you up and then discards the cloth.

He offers you a hand and you accept it, letting him help lift you up from the bed to stand on shaky legs. You use both arms to grab him and he smirks, pleased with himself once again. Your legs feel like jello but you’re not complaining one bit.

He brings you to the tub, getting inside first and offering his hands to bring you in with him. You give a low hiss, feeling the hot water touch your skin as you sink into the water. You seat yourself between his legs and rest your back to his chest.

Both of you sigh in contentment, you rest your head back into his shoulder. His hand reaches to rest on your neck and rub his thumb along the hollow of it. He slowly places reverent kisses along your temple into your hairline.

Never, did you think this is how today would end up and you couldn’t be more thankful. Jack simultaneously excites and comforts you. Jack finds himself infatuated, you’ve possibly become the much needed balm for his aches.

“Oh shoot, we didn’t use your belt,” you laugh.

Jack smiles into your hair, “I was thinking we could use that next time…”

Your face falls, you turn your head slightly to face him. His eyes are affectionate and the corners of his lips turned up. You flutter your lashes and mirror back his expression, heart thumping harder in your chest. You didn’t mean to assume this was a one time thing but you’re thrilled to know he wants more of you. Will this lead somewhere interesting?

“I’d love that,” you whisper as he brings his lips down to yours, holding you in a long kiss. His thumb comes up to stroke your cheek and you deepen it. You turn your body towards his, sitting up and moving to straddle his hips. You break off the kiss to rest your hands on his shoulder as he rubs your back, pressing you tight against him.

Jack thought he might be scared to ever find love again. He’s not saying this is love, not yet exactly. But after years of one-night stands, not taking himself seriously and rejected flirting attempts, he’s tired. Ready for something fresh and new. He wonders how in the world your two worlds seemed to line up the way they did. Today might have started with a nearly instant sexual attraction, but it ended off with a full heart and ease he hasn’t experienced in a very, very long time.

Not since her.

And knowing you reciprocate that, enthusiastically, motivates him.

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