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#she's so unimpressed i love her
murdermitties · 11 months
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Daisy
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sugarless5 · 1 year
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“What if I told you that some part of me still hungers after suffering?”
Alex didn’t flinch. Of course she didn’t. It wasn’t in her repertoire.
“I’d tell you to keep your shit together, Darlington. We all want things we shouldn’t.”
-Leigh Bardugo, Hell Bent
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averlym · 9 months
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pleaaase may i have 28 and 29 aramour angst ✨ i crave it
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28: “Move out of my way before I make you.” // 29: “You deserve better.” (prompt list here)
click for better quality!
#the brainrot!!! so strong. anyways. fellas is it gay to confront the woman dating your ex when there's super high tension#anyway!!! highschool(?) modern au where the popular girl/ queen bee is whoever resident king henry is dating.. hm..#oh the tension between someone who used to serve you. now having taken your place. and you knowing the ins and out of that position..#especially that it's not all it's cooked up to be!! lots of thoughts about this au#art-wise i drew these as storyboards before i realised i cant video format well without audio so they're just here in storyboard form#i drew these in sketchy drafts and then in sketchbook then spent 2h lining them digitally bc the scans were yikes. anyways. i lost a frame#somewhere and it was before the “you deserve better” and it was like. “take it from someone who knows#fun fact!! i showed this to multiple irl friends without dialogue as i was drawing it. neither of them know the characters but.#immediately pinpointed exes vibes. and enemies to lovers. and basically homoerotic arguing tension.#remarkably pleased at how that was conveyed (and also amused. i love my friends). anyway if i were to do this again? then i'd draw in the#frames instead of re-doing the sizing after tracing. yikes that was an experience.#anyway!! (x3) anon i hope you enjoy the aramour angst. i hope it has something. i craved it a lot as i was drawing this#six the musical#six the musical fanart#catherine of aragon#jane seymour#also the characterisation was lowkey based off how mean girl seymour is absolutely a thing in the show. some of her lines. savage.#parallels!!! in show the "oh boohoo [..] i DIED'' and attacking aragon.. the rivalry here.. aaaagh#also!! the last line is a slightly paraphrased letter from aragon to her father(?) i think. found it online while looking for how she wrot#because i wanted her to sound more queenly... you also see it in how she's unbothered and rather unimpressed throughout seymour's posturing#the confidence in herself. meanwhile jane is defensive and a bit more prone to being flustered <parallels emotion in show script>#i'm just. very proud of these drawings together. narrative can be so very nice. the last two frames are kinda like a postscript.#sometimes the brainrot really gets you!! alright have a nice day.. comms are open and the fact that no one is taking them up rn feels a bit#sobering. but it's okay! i'm not in a rush.. it's more for the experience. hm. i wonder who wrote yes in the poll though#(can you. tell my ego is a little bruised?) nvm onwards!! eventually i'll get good enough to actually sell my stuff :OOO#oh an addendum: lowkey inspired by all the bathroom girl-on-girl confrontation scenes. one off the top of my head is the one from heathers#but there's quite a lot of those tbh#aramour
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whalesfall · 9 months
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I really like seeing the men who read TLT cross my socials feed because they’re always like “Gideon is SO COOL gideon is the BEST I love gideon SO MUCH” and I think they’re either trying really hard to be supportive or actually don’t realize that gideon my beloved is so faildyke she kills herself for harrow thinking that harrow wasn’t even into her and these guys do genuinely think Gideon has real swag
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astarien · 8 months
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Astarion & Emrys have the funniest flirt to roast ratio in which he both flirts and roasts and she's like "are you saying that because you've never been held?" in the most deadpan, dry voice and he's like shut the fuck UP kill yourself die. and then they kiss.
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tennessoui · 1 year
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Speaking of Sheari aka the most patient person in the galaxy, one of the funniest parts for me in that was when she had to wrangle them in when Obi-Wan got so petty that he felt the need to paint a more accurate detailed picture of his royal threesome for Anakin’s crazed little jealous mind
I imagine sheari’s go to fantasy to get through the workday is of her duct-taping obikin’s mouths shut so they can’t say this shit that feels like dropping nuclear missiles (one extremely petty and pointed comment, usually from obi-wan sometimes from Anakin) on sand castles (all the fucking hard work she’s been doing try and strengthen this relationship
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rimouskis · 11 months
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got dinner with the sisters tonight and I had the oh fuck, you're an adult realization about the youngest one.
#it's so wild how being around them brings up so many of my old wounds from childhood (self-inflicted)#that are so clearly just baked into my being at this point#—how I feel really lame in comparison to them#how I find them so keenly social and blossoming in ways I never really felt I could achieve—#but the middle one is adjusting so so well to living alone and coming into her own as an adult in a huge city. it's really awesome to see.#she suffered from middle child syndrome a bit but it made her strong in ways me and the youngest aren't#I think my very desperate need for my sisters to find me cool is SO transparent and close to the surface when I'm with them#and that I fundamentally think they are much cooler and more worldly and experienced than me also feels very close to the surface lol#(those are The Old Wounds ahahaa)#idk I'm not sure I'll ever NOT feel this way. even if I'm the only child who moved out of our state;#even if I've been living alone for many years and they're just freshly out of home#I think it's one of those things that will always be with me because of [mumbles] several influential factors in growing up#and the sort of ... awe and jealousy I've always felt towards them because of how the birth order worked out#with the gap between me and them larger than the gap between the two of them and how our schooling choices broke down#anyways this is maybe the primal wound that has made me so fucking weird/intense about every friendship I've ever had since#I love them more than anyone in the world; I want them to be as impressed by me as I am impressed by them;#I find myself ultimately unimpressive in comparison and that childhood thought will stay with me for -- perhaps -- life#anyways I love them so much and it was awesome spending most of the day with the middle one and getting to make conversation with her.#she is so cool
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thevalleyisjolly · 5 months
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Obligatory disclaimer that no one is ever entitled to a crown and that the Iron Throne has only ever made everyone around it miserable, but it is so funny to me that since HOTD retconned Laenor's death, he and Rhaenyra are technically still married which makes her and Daemon's marriage bigamous and unlawful in Westerosi society, consequently making their children bastards. Which means that at the end of the Dance, the people with the actual closest legitimate blood claim to the throne are- my gods, what's this? It's Baela and Rhaena with a steel chair!
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dalashas · 2 years
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Sunbeam is so fucking funny she's from East Enders
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rosykims · 1 year
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i know the general consensus is that the inquisitors characterization is the worst out of the games but that literally wasnt my experience At ALL considering i play ashara as 90% mean as fuck and alix wilton reagan consistently nails those lines
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girlcaligula · 1 year
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miranda pryce is like a sister to me
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wanderingpages · 2 years
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im curious now what was the dad's answer 🤚
Lol it was anticlimactic tbh
Mom: how’s your wife - what was her name again? I keep forgetting. She still gets mad when we talk?
Dad: Uhh [name]?
Mom: yeah I thought it was something else.
Me, in the background, talking to my son: Jonny, can you say ‘homewrecker’? Can you say that for momma??
Mom: anyways what about your girlfriend?
Dad: who??
Mom: [describes her] + with black hair
Dad: black hair…black hair…? oh her! … we don’t talk anymore aha she’s married now
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saetoru · 6 months
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RATE MY PROFESSOR! — GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU.
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kinktober day one — threesomes ; find masterlist here
synopsis. you’re professor gojo’s TA—the catch? you both are romantically involved. what do you do when professor geto happens to accidentally walk in on you giving a blowjob? let him fuck you so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t tell a soul, of course
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length. 5.1k words (deep, big, heavy sigh)
contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, college au, teacher-student relationships, prof! satoru + suguru, TA! reader, power imbalance, age gaps (reader is early twenties and satoru + suguru are early thirties), semi public sex (at campus in satoru’s office), suguru walking in on you and satoru, threesomes, fingering + blowjobs + hair pulling + throat fucking + cum swallowing (satoru), male masturbation + edging (suguru), unprotected sex + (one) clit slap + creampie (suguru), pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel, princess, pretty girl, good girl), not proof read—i am a raw dog kinda gal
notes. i would highly discourage having intimate relations with a professor—but….if your professor looks like gojo or geto, i’m blind babe. i ain’t see nothing. i won’t tell a soul
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“you guys wanna get lunch?” nobara hums, “we’re all here.”
megumi, as always, looks like he’s about to say no—he probably wants to go home as quickly as possible. but that’s not an option because before he can, yuji has already piped up with an enthusiastic, “yeah! i’m down.”
you fiddle your fingers nervously—how are you supposed to get out of this one? you’d just used the excuse of grading assignments for satoru yesterday, and surely you couldn’t possibly have a fresh pile of them to grade again within twenty-four hours, right? it’d be a suspicious excuse, especially one for nobara, who seems to sniff out a lie a little too easily. 
it’s not that you don’t want to hang out with your friends, you love them. really. but you promised you’d be in satoru’s office in fifteen minutes—and you’re not about to keep him waiting, so lunch will have to wait for another time.
you’re still thinking of a usable excuse when she turns to you herself, unimpressed as she dryly says, “i assume you have some midterm review to help him polish or something,” she grumbles, “gojo is so lazy,” she scoffs.
oh—well, that wasn’t very hard. she’s just made it ten times easier for you. nobara has handed you the perfect excuse right in the palm of your hand, and before you can even play it off casually, yuji cuts in and distracts her. bless yuji, you think to yourself.
“hey, professor gojo is a great guy! we all passed with an A! isn’t that great?”
“everyone gets an A in his class, dumbass,” megumi grunts, rolling his eyes, “not getting an A in his class practically means you’re deliberately trying to do poorly.”
on campus, professor gojo is a fan favorite—his rate my professor score is a perfect five stars, and most of the students around campus rave about him. why? because he gives out the letter grade A+ like it’s candy. anyone would love a professor like that. 
he doesn’t ever take attendance or knock your grade down when you skip class, his assignments are always easy to google answers to, and the quizzes have unlimited time and attempts. his tests are straightforward enough that even if you never pay attention, doing the review he uploads is sure to help you cram enough to pass. and what’s better? he always adds a generous curve. not only that, but professor gojo is a friendly guy—he loves talking to his students, loves to ramble away if you stop him in the halls or visit during office hours, loves to listen to your stories and nod along in interest, loves to crack jokes and have a good laugh.
everyone loves professor gojo. and when they leave his class with an A+, they love him even more. 
you had an A+ in physics yourself when you took his class—and you hate physics. you hated it in high school, and you hate it now. but for gojo satoru? you’re almost a physics enthusiast. professor gojo—or rather, satoru, as you call him now, takes a liking to you. a very…strong liking, if you will. 
it all starts on a fateful monday afternoon two semesters ago—it’s one thirty pm, the busiest hour on campus. sometimes, it feels like everyone takes classes at one pm—and as such, getting a table in the university coffee shop is almost impossible. you’re just about to give up and leave with your coffee and sandwich after scanning the place when a wave of a hand catches your attention. 
it’s professor gojo. 
need a seat? he asks you, gesturing at the chair in front of him at his table—it’s a smooth, amused little drawl, the way he talks. it’s almost always a borderline teasing tone, and his voice is low enough that it sounds oddly enticing. you’ve heard enough girls lust over his voice in class to know you’re not the only one who sometimes appreciates the sound. 
you try to insist that you wouldn’t want to intrude, but professor gojo is a nice guy; always looks out for his students and helps them out. so, when he insists that he doesn’t mind you taking the spare seat as he grades a few assignments, well…you decide to sheepishly thank him and sit across from him, finally having somewhere to sit and eat before you’re off to your next class. 
and then it begins.
every now and then, you sit across from your physics professor in the crowded coffee shop on campus as you enjoy a cold brew and a sandwich before your next class. somehow, he always manages to snatch a table, and somehow, you always manage to find him. you like to ramble to him sometimes—how professor nanami is a bit too strict for your liking (he giggles at that), how professor ieri always seems too tired and miserable to be here (he nods and agrees), and how professor geto is nice, but he takes literature pretty seriously (he gives you an amused look at that as he hums.)
somewhere along the line, he asks you to be his TA for the following semester—and somewhere further along that line…well, perhaps the one-on-one talks as you sit together at a table for two felt a little too close to something of a romantic setting because you and professor gojo kiss in his office while he calls you in to explain your TA responsibilities. 
that was never supposed to happen. 
you don’t even remember who leaned in first, or whose arms were the first to wrap around the other, or who tugged who closer, but you both kiss. and then some. and then it happens again, and again, and again—and, well…you’re professor gojo’s, or better yet, satoru’s best kept secret.
you go to his office to grade assignments for him—in between if he steals a few kisses, who’s to know? sometimes, he’s a bit riskier, likes to spread his legs and free his cock and have your hand stroke him as he eyes the door. it’s always a nice view to watch him unbutton a few buttons of his shirt and bite back moans. other days, he likes to slip his hand past your waistband and toy with your clit—the amused glint in his eyes, as he tells you not to get distracted and keep grading when you gasp always, earns him a sharp glare.
it’s like that for the semester, just you and him in his little office where you can break the rules in the safety of secrecy. 
that is, until now. 
admittedly, this isn’t the best time to be doing this—professor geto likes to have lunch with satoru around this time, and you know you’re cutting it close…but he just looks so pretty like this, head fallen back against his chair as his lips part with a soft gasp.
you’re on your knees, looking up as you suck on the tip of his stiff cock before taking him down your throat, bobbing your head up and down. it’s a rewarding position to be in—to have the hot, loved, campus favorite professor that everyone thirsts over falling apart in your mouth, hands gripping the arms of his chair as he pants harshly above you.
he looks pretty—always does, always looks good enough that you can feel the ache between your legs get worse. the messy strands of his hair stick to his damp forehead, and his lips are always so pink and plump when he bites them like that, and who can forget the way his eyes turn just a shade darker of that bright blue?
you hum around him, making him groan as he mumbles, “f-fuck, you’re so good, sweetheart—always know how to make me feel good.”
you press a kiss to his tip, smearing the bead of pre cum leaking from his slit along your lips before licking them clean—he closes his eyes and groans at that. you can’t help but giggle, can’t help but press more kisses along his hardened length until you’re at the base of his cock. 
“pretty little lips,” he hums, reaching to rub his thumb over your bottom lip as you open your mouth, letting him slip into your mouth—he hums approvingly as your tongue swirls around the digit, sucking slowly. “‘s like you were made for taking me, huh?”
“‘course i was,” you grin cheekily—and then you’re back to sucking on his cock, tongue rubbing over that thick vein you love to trace and reaching a hand to play with his balls. he moans—it’s low but still whiny enough that you can’t help but feel so proud at how needy he is, how desperately he always wants you. no matter the risk.
except the risk is probably not the wisest one to test today because just as satoru lets out a particularly loud whine when you swallow around him, the door clicks open and…
oh. 
oh no. 
this…this isn’t good—this is terrible, in fact. this is the worst possible outcome to the worst possible thing you’ve done, and now you’re screwed. entirely destroyed, in fact—the both of you. here goes your admission and your progress on your degree, and here goes satoru’s entire career and everything he’s worked for, and all because you couldn’t help but give him a blowjob in the middle of his office with the door unlocked where his best friend can walk right in and get a full view.
and worse? this best friend of his happens to be another professor on campus who you happen to have had just last semester. you’re sure he knows you; you’re his former student, after all, and he must certainly know his best friend’s TA. 
professor geto blinks—his eyes go back and forth between you and satoru and the still-hard cock between his legs that’s glistening with your spit as you sit on your knees. yeah—there’s no explaining this one.
“well,” he says blankly, “i guess that’s on me for not knocking, huh?”
“suguru,” satoru grumbles, “some of us are busy y’know? can’t you come back later?”
you turn to satoru in shock—how can he be so normal about this? how can he just casually act like this is some random hook-up his friend walked in on instead of a (very illegal and very unprofessional) teacher-student relationship that could get the two of you in more trouble than you can comprehend? 
but professor geto doesn’t seem even the slightest bit concerned. there’s no look of disgust or panic or even anger at you and satoru for your unprofessional habits. there’s no alarm at the distasteful activities you’re doing in the middle of a university office where anyone could potentially walk in on. and then there’s satoru—he doesn’t even bother making himself decent or pulling you from your knees.
no, instead, he looks at professor geto in slight irritation as the latter stands there. 
“so this is what you’re always busy doing in your office, huh?” professor geto hums, chuckling in amusement, “i have to say, you at least have good taste, satoru. she’s excellent in and outside the classroom, it seems.”
“yeah, she’s a keeper,” satoru hums, cupping your cheek as he grins down at you, “now if you don’t mind, suguru, we’re in the middle of something.”
“and what do you plan on doing if this gets around?” professor geto raises a brow, unimpressed.
you look at him in panic at that—surely…surely he can’t mean that he would be the one to spread this around, right? surely he wouldn’t throw his best friend under the bus, correct? if not for you, then for satoru’s sake, he’d never let this information find another soul. otherwise…otherwise you’ll both lose everything. all the hard work and progress you’ve made, all of satoru’s experience and years building his career, and all the future opportunities you had coming up—all of it will be for nothing if professor geto says one word. 
people wouldn’t have a hard time believing it either, you think. sometimes your own friends like to poke fun at you themselves. 
you’re always with him, are you sure you’re not in love with the guy at this point? nobara always likes to snort at you.
why does professor gojo even keep you around? you’re too lazy—you must give good head, megumi tends to tease as he raises a brow with amused eyes.
with how often you’re in professor gojo’s room, you might as well have a crush on him, yuji sometimes giggles.
surely, with how often you’re seen in the coffee shop with him as he grades papers and how often he likes to tease you when you show up to his classroom sometimes to drop off papers, students would certainly take the rumors and spread them like wildfire if professor geto says even the littlest thing. 
you look at him with wobbly lips as you whisper, “please don’t tell anyone,” you sniffle, “i…maybe there’s something we can do…to keep you from…”
the two of them look at you in shock—they stare at you for a moment, stare at the crystalline tears welling up in your eyes, at the soft little tremor in your lips, at the sweet little sniffles you try to hide. then, as if in sync, their eyes meet each other’s before finding you once more.
“oh, that’s precious,” professor geto chuckles, “she really is a keeper, satoru—she even looks pretty when she cries. i’m almost jealous.”
“don’t look for too long, suguru,” satoru grumbles—and then, “listen, sweetheart, you don’t have to worry. suguru’s not gonna—”
“well, if there is something you’d wanna do for me,” professor geto cuts satoru off, his voice a low drawl as he walks closer, hand cupping your jaw as he tilts your face up, “i suppose i can keep my mouth shut.”
“anything,” you nod quickly.
you’re so eager to please, he thinks—so perfect and sweet and pliant, that suguru thinks he might actually really be jealous that somehow, it was satoru who caught your attention. how did this all start? when did it start? how long has it been going on? do you have real feelings for each other? or is it just a pleasurable business kind of deal? do you meet up outside of campus? does he take you to the next town over to freely walk around with you on dates? do you kiss sweetly sometimes instead of with hunger? have you ever spent a night in his bed? do you sleep better beside each other, wrapped in the other’s arms?
there are so many, many questions suguru wants to ask. the potential answers to all of them make him a bit more unhappy than he cares to admit. something in him wonders how things might’ve had to play out in order to land you in his office instead—but…but if you’re offering anything, why not take advantage of the offer?
“anything?” he asks, looking at you amused, “you know, princess, anything is a dangerous offer. what if i asked to join? what if i asked to fuck you here in this office so your secret is safe?”
you blink up at him for a moment at his words—they’re a bit shocking. professor geto…doesn’t think this is wrong? clearly, he doesn’t if he’s willing to take part. but that doesn’t sound half bad. not even in the slightest. 
they’re a popular pair: professor gojo and geto are all people on campus ever talk about. those two professors who happen to be best friends. they’re not much older than you either—can’t be past their early thirties, even if they don’t look a day over twenty. 
did you know they used to go to college together? i heard they’ve known each other since high school. apparently, they applied to work here together and only took the offer up once the other agreed. it’s all people ever gossip about when they mention them both. it’s always about how close they are, how deep their bond is, how there is never one without the other. and then, of course, there are those…the less than appropriate comments you occasionally hear the other girls make. i bet professor gojo gives the best head—he’s always sucking on some lollipop. i’d let professor geto do nasty things to me while i read his literature books out loud to him—he’s too fine. i can take both of them—and i don’t mean their classes. 
it’s…not exactly a bad offer that he gives you, you think to yourself. it’s an enticing one, in fact. you get to have them both—professor geto isn’t any less attractive than satoru and…and well, you’d really like for him to keep this a secret, so it’s a bit of a win-win. plus, you’re sure he wouldn’t risk spilling such delicate information when it would put his career at risk, too—it seems like the perfect leverage.
you look at your old literature professor with a nod as you murmur, “then i’d say you should make sure to lock the door this time—we don’t want to make the same mistake twice, do we?”
his eyes sparkle in amusement at that, a low chuckle falling from his pretty lips as he shakes his head at you—you’re even better than he expected. satoru is so, so lucky he’s got to have you to himself all this time. it’s criminally unfair. 
“hey,” satoru pouts from behind, still sitting in his chair and still painfully hard as his throbbing cock sits between his legs unattended. “you both are forgetting about me,” he whines.
professor geto—or rather, suguru, you suppose, only looks at his best friend in amusement. “now, satoru—what have i always told you about sharing? here—” he walks over and pulls satoru to stand before taking the seat himself and patting his thigh as he looks at you with a sly grin, “why don’t i get to feel your pussy, and satoru can have your mouth like before? then we both get what we want.”
“bossy as ever, suguru,” satoru chuckles, but there’s something in his eyes—something darker and more excited than you’ve ever seen them.
“get her ready for me,” suguru hums, fingers making quick work to unbuckle his belt and free his hardened cock. you can’t help but stare, can’t help but watch as he wraps his fist around his hardened length and runs his thumb through his slit with a low moan. 
he’s not as long, but he’s thicker than satoru—you can easily tell he won’t be any easier to take. you watch attentively as he traces the thick vein along the side of his cock with this thumb as he strokes upward, rolling around his tip before stroking down and squeezing at the base. you watch his lips tug between his teeth, a soft moan ripping from his throat as he touches himself in the way he likes best.
you’ll remember what he likes, you think—you can sense this might not be your first and last opportunity to see suguru like this. and next time? well, next time, it’ll be your hand touching his cock and pulling those pretty little sighs and groans from him instead of his own.
“eyes on me, sweetheart,” satoru hums, pulling you to stand before gently guiding your back to fall against his desk, fingers looping into your waistband and pulling your pants down your legs. you can hear the sharp inhale suguru takes as soon as the wetness of your folds is on display, as soon as your puffy clit and dripping pussy are there for him to see so clearly. “watch carefully, suguru,” satoru grins, “she’s pretty when she cums.”
“i can imagine,” suguru muses, “alright then. show me.”
instantly, satoru’s fingers are intruding into your cunt—it’s familiar, the sensation of his digits bullying past your folds and curling against your sweet spot. he’s already knuckles deep, already pressing the tips of his fingers into the back of your walls as far as they’ll go, spreading you open and scissoring you apart. it feels good—it always does, and when his palm rolls across your clit? you can’t help but let out a whiny moan that earns a groan from suguru as he fists his cock tighter. 
“god, she even sounds so pretty,” he pants, watching as satoru’s fingers slip in and out of your pretty cunt, at the way it all but sucks them in itself as it flutters around him. everything about you is perfect—but your face is by far suguru’s favorite. the way it twists with pleasure as satoru slams his fingers against your spot mercilessly with every thrust of his wrist has him fighting off his orgasm—his fist slowing down to a teasing edge as he grunts at the way he lets his pleasure die down for the sake of really feeling you. 
“that feel good, angel?” satoru asks, grinning down at you. 
you nod quickly, head thrown back against the wooden desk as you stutter, “y-yes…s-so good, toru.”
“toru?” suguru asks, “do i get a nickname too? make sure you come up with one for me, yeah?”
it’s almost like you don’t hear him, too busy on the way satoru drags along your walls with every time his fingers sink into you. “toru, toru—s-slow down, ‘m g-gonna…”
“slow down?” satoru gasps—his pace only quickens at that as he gives you a mocking pout, “you want me to slow down, sweetheart? you never ask me to slow down, it’s always faster, toru. faster, please! from you. you don’t wanna give suguru the wrong idea, do you? he’ll think i haven’t taught you how to take it like a good girl.”
suguru snorts at that, slowly dragging his hand up and down his sensitive cock—it’s red at the tip, flushed, and leaky enough that it’s easy to tell he’s aching for release.
“hurry up, satoru,” he grits, biting his lip as he fights back another orgasm and stills his hand, keeping it tightened around the base of his length, “we haven’t got all day.”
“can’t rush making my pretty girl cum, suguru,” satoru gasps, “she deserves the best. look at this pussy—” he gives pulls his fingers out to give your clit attention, rubbing your slick over the sensitive bud as you gasp, writhing over his desk, “—see how perfect it is? you gotta treat it like that too.”
as if from his words alone, as if you get off on the way satoru praises your cunt to his best friend who watches you get stuffed to the brim with his fingers, you whimper before cumming—your pussy fluttering around nothing, walls spasming and dripping with slick as he toys with your clit. 
“toru—toru, ‘m cumming…cumming—oh,” you babble, thighs quivering as his thumb doesn’t let up from your abused clit, watching as your hand reaches for his wrist weakly to halt his movements. “‘s too much,” you sniffle.
“too much?” suguru gasps, “how will you take me, then, princess? don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?”
“nah,” satoru grins, chuckling, “she’s got plenty left in her. she can take it.” with that, he hooks an arm under your waist and helps you sit up, leaning down to kiss you softly as you let out a muffled whine against his lips. “you’re ready for suguru, aren’t you, baby? prepped you nice and good to take him, didn’t i?”
you nod, mumbling a soft, “uh huh,” in agreement.
“that’s my good girl,” he coos, grinning as he presses a wet kiss to your forehead. 
suguru, patient as ever with a stiff, aching cock standing between his muscled thighs, holds an arm out for you as he murmurs, “c’mere then, princess. can’t back out of our deal yet, can you?” you walk over to him on wobbly legs, letting him pull you to sit on his lap, back flush against his chest as his hands guide your hips. he taps the head of his cock against your clit as he lines your entrance up with his length before pulling you to sit, slowly inching you down on him bit by bit as he gasps at the way you squeeze around him instantly. “h-holy—fuck, such a tight fuckin’ pussy. ‘s like i can barely even move,” he grunts, chin resting on your shoulder as he pants.
satoru walks over, staring down at you as you’re seated on suguru’s lap before cupping your cheek and rubbing over the soft skin with his thumb. “you can take both of us, right sweetheart? you’re just too good not to, aren’t ya?”
you nod eagerly, letting the tip of his cock tap against your lip, tongue moving to lick across his slit and make him groan. he’s painfully hard—cock swollen and neglected for so long, you almost forgot that he’s been waiting for your mouth to take him again after being interrupted. your jaw slacks as you let him thrust his hips and fuck his length into you, tip hitting the back of your throat as you choke around him. 
“fuck,” satoru hisses lowly, biting his lip as his hands grab your hair and keep you in place while he ruts into your mouth, “fuck, baby. never get tired of how good this mouth feels—takes me so fuckin’ well. jus’ love feelin’ me down your throat, huh?”
you can’t do anything but let out a muffled cry, feeling the fat tip of suguru’s cock nudge against your sweet spot—it’s just as effortless: the way he finds your most sensitive part. just as effortless as satoru. maybe that’s why they get along so well, maybe they’re connected in that way. 
“oh, princess,” suguru moans, panting against your ear as he lets out a breathy moan, “fuck, that’s good—so, good. can hardly move with the way you’re squeezing me. greedy little pussy, isn’t it?”
you whine as you feel his arm wrap around you, finger rolling over your puffy clit as his hips snap upwards and fuck into you, cock dragging along your walls and stretching you enough that you can hardly think straight. he’s big—it feels like he’s almost splitting you open with his girth as his hips roll up and sink him deeper into your cunt.
“she’s…she’s perfect,” suguru pants, “keepin’ this all to yourself? how selfish of you, satoru.”
“she’s mine,” satoru whines, cock pushing past your lips as he speaks, the way your tongue glides along his vein making his cheeks flush as his eyes flutter shut and his mouth falls open with a breathless moan. “she’s too good to share with you. you d-don’t deserve her.”
“yeah? and you do?” suguru chuckles—it sounds more like a labored pant, his breath harsh as he groans into your neck when you flutter particularly tightly around him, forehead falling to dig into your shoulder, “she’s suckin’ me in. think she wants me. don’t you, pretty girl? you want me to cum inside you, right? make you mine too?”
“y-yes,” you mewl, popping off satoru’s length as you whimper when suguru chuckles and gives your clit a light slap, back arching against him as he pushes his cock past your folds again, “yes, wan’ it. wan’ it so, so bad—need it.”
“see,” he raises a brow towards satoru, “knew it.”
you can see the way satoru’s cock twitches at that—at the way you fall apart on suguru’s lap as the latter digs his head into your shoulder as he breathes harshly, chasing his release desperately as he ruts into your slick pussy. you can see the way satoru’s tip is flushed a harsh red, leaking with pre cum as he aches to spill cum down your throat, so you let him push past your lips once more—but not before giving his tip a delicate kiss. 
“she’s my girl,” satoru grunts, “mine, mine, mine—knows how to make me cum. kn-knows how to take me so good, right baby?”
and as if to answer him, you suck around his tip, swallowing around his length and making him groan as his hips stutter and cum paints your throat white as it fills your mouth. you try to swallow every drop, try to take what he gives you as he fucks into you desperately and chases the pleasure of his high. thick, hot ropes of cum spill from the corners of your lips as satoru fucks his load into you, panting as his hips sloppily roll and work himself through his orgasm.
“that’s right, sweetheart,” he groans lowly, “take it, yeah? god—fuck, feels so good, baby. ‘m c-cumming.”
you make a sound between a choked whine and sharp gasp as suguru’s thumb rubs harshly against your swollen clit, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he groans, hips just as sloppy as satoru’s in his pace that it tells you he’s close too—and then he twitches into your pussy, cock burying into you once, twice, three more times before he groans too.
“gonna cum, princess? ‘cause ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum—fill you up and make you mine. you want that right? want me to—f-fuck, fuck ‘m close, so close,” he cuts himself off with a gasp, letting out a needy whine into your skin before spilling into you. you can feel hot, thick ropes of cum paint your walls as his tip nudges back into you and pushes his load as deep as he can.
and you fall apart too, coming undone a second time as your walls hug around him tightly, head falling back as you mewl a high pitched, “s-sugu—c-can’t…’s too much—”
“you can take it, pretty,” he hums, “know you can. you’re too precious not to, right?”
it’s messy—it’s downright filthy, in fact, the way his cum and your slick mix and drip along your inner thighs, making a mess on satoru’s chair. you pant as your pussy pulses around him before coming down from your high, falling slack in his arms against his chest as he chuckles and presses a kiss to your jaw. 
“fuck,” he breathes, “you’re something else. who’d have thought my favorite little student from a previous semester could do all that?”
“isn’t she a dime?” satoru chuckles proudly, reaching for the corner of your mouth with his thumb, collecting a stray drop of cum and pushing it back past your lips and onto your tongue, humming approvingly as you swallow. “precious, isn’t she?”
“of course,” suguru nods, with a grin, leaning to peck your shoulder, “so, tell me. which professor would you take again?”
satoru purses his lips as he glares. “this isn’t rate my professor, suguru. and don’t get used to thi—”
“well,” you hum, interrupting as you bat your lashes sweetly at both of them, “why i can’t just take both of you again?”
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guess who’s posting their october first kinktober fic literally 40 mins before it’s october second ?? if it’s not procrastinated, it’s not reached its full potential
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theragethatisdesire · 9 months
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scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!
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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.”
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ghostfacd · 4 months
Text
KISS AND MAKE UP ; CORIOLANUS SNOW
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summary: when coriolanus and you argue over the sudden closeness between him and lucy gray, all hell breaks loose. but he’s reminded that in the end, it’s you who he chooses, and it’s you that will stay.
warnings: reader and coryo have a toxic relationship (are we surprised?), mentions of cheating (no actual cheating involved), fighting and yelling, some ooc!coryo, descriptions may be inaccurate ‘cause i read the book like 2 years ago 😭
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“I hate you!” You scream, thrashing in Coriolanus’s threshold. “Let go! Let go!”
“Oh stop making a scene, will you?” He growls out, not appreciating your lack of awareness of the eyes that were currently watching. “She’s fine, she’s fine.” He reassures the staring orbs of eyes, “stop it now, Y/N.”
His tone makes you shiver, and you stop trying to kick yourself out of his grip. He smiles contently at this, finally letting you go, but not before shoving his hands into yours. “See, wasn’t that easy?”
“Oh fuck you.” You say, but both you and Coriolanus know that you’ll be back at square one by tonight, kissing and telling him that you love him.
“Thought I'd have to drag you away and shut you up." He mutters, clearly unimpressed with the way you acted earlier. “Maybe get your shit together, L/N.”
“I would if you’d just act like a decent boyfriend for once!” You say, throwing your arms out in the air. “You know what? I don’t care; I don’t care what you do—go get close to your tribute! Go fuck up our relationship for all I care!”
You yank your arm away from his, stomping inside of the Academy with a scowl plastered on your face. Sejanus is only a few steps behind the two of you, and was going to open his mouth to say something when Coriolanus places his index finger in front of him.
“Don’t.” The boy says. “She’s just being dramatic.” He fixes his uniform, a lavish shade of red, as it was crinkled from the way you had tried to escape his hold earlier.
The next time he sees Lucy Gray, he thinks of your little upset pout and face, your yelling ringing in his ear.
Go fuck up our relationship for all I care!
“Are you alright?” Lucy Gray was cautious around Coriolanus, he was unpredictable, and scarily cunning. She had no idea what was even one of the million thoughts that ran through his mind
“I’m.. fine.” Coriolanus says, giving her a meek smile that almost makes her feel sick. Although she had to admit he was fairly handsome and she had somewhat fell for his charm and face, he still scared her regardless.
“Coryo.” Your voice makes Lucy Gray and Coriolanus both look up. You look like a looming dark figure compared to her, towering over. “We should talk later.”
And Lucy Gray watches as Coriolanus’s once emotionless face turns into a sly grin. He nods, not saying much, which was something Lucy Gray had came to learned these past few days after he had first met and given her a rose.
“Snow always falls on top.” Coriolanus whispers underneath his breath, and Lucy Gray doesn’t question it, only continuing what they had been doing earlier.
When the two of you were walking out of the Academy, you placed your hand in Coriolanus’s. It had gotten colder than it had in the morning, and you were freezing under your uniform.
He carefully caresses your hand, looking up to watch as snow slowly fell from the sky.
“So, you’re gonna tell me what you wanted to earlier?” He asks, still looking at the sky.
“I’m sorry Coryo,” you reply meekly, feeling small under his frame. “For causing a scene earlier. I was upset.”
“Upset at me getting close to Lucy Gray?” He questions, now finally glancing down at you.
“Yes! But you can’t blame me Coryo, you don’t see me getting close with my tribute.”
Coriolanus rolls his eyes, the blue orbs bore into yours. “What did I tell you? I would never cheat on you, silly girl. I’m not a monster.”
If only he knew.
You look down, embarrassed that you two were even having this conversation in the first place.
“I know you wouldn’t, which is why I’m apologizing in the first place.”
The two of you stop abruptly, your eyes reaching his despite the obvious height difference.
“I love you, okay?” Coriolanus breathes out, you can even see his breath, the temperature dropping even lower than it was before.
And although you don’t know the extent to which exactly the words coming out of his mouth are even true, you still go on your tippy toes, shivering as you give your boyfriend a kiss on the lips.
“There’s my smiling girl,” he says as he watches your eyes twinkle. “Now let’s go, I have some ideas of ways to warm you up.”
That night, snow truly, did fall on top.
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bfbkg · 7 months
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THE BEST FOR YOU (4.4K)
— viking!bakugou katsuki x reader
synopsis: after a reconciling evening in the lake, you find yourself spending your first night in your fiancé’s bedroom.
warnings: minors dni, ageless blogs dni, 18+ content, female reader, arranged marriage, fiancés, referred to as princess/honey/dirty girl, unprotected sex, pulling out used as a contraceptive, talk of sub/dom, lovey dovey, light ass play, p to v sex, viking au but don’t expect it to be historically correct lmao, modern language.
notes: this is a part two of WAITING FOR YOU, so this can be read as a stand alone but everything makes more sense after reading part one. nothing else to say! i tried hard on this and i enjoyed writing it! hope you enjoy reading :) also can still be read if you aren’t a fan of the viking part, he just is referred to as chief, you as my lady and he’s got servants n maids!
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“katsuki! move your hand!”
“stop fuckin’ wiggling’ woman, gonna make me drop you,” he warns, carrying your naked body against his chest and stomping through the grass with an arm across your ass. you’re holding onto him like your life depends on it and so none of his servants end up getting a view of your tits.
it’s pitch black outside, with hoots from owls and neighs from the horses coming from afar. the only light out is coming from the main house which leads bakugou’s way. 
“you wouldn’t drop me. you’re too big and strong for that,” you coo in his ear and even you’re shocked at how quickly you both went from enemies to flirtation. your crushes on each other are way too big for your bodies. you guess there really is a thin line between love and hate.
also, it’s true, he wouldn’t drop you but you appealing to his ego makes him chuckle. bakugou adores how you feel in his arms, giggling and alive, smushing your body against his and putting all your trust in him.
“i’m beginning to think you only chose to marry me for my body, princess,” he smirks, bouncing up the steps to the back entrance of your shared home.
“well…,” you purposely pause and another chuckle booms out of him. he lands a pinch at your thigh and you pull the hair at the nape of his neck.
“don’t pull my hair, you child,”
“you pinched me—,”
your voice halts when bakugou steps into your new home, the back entrance plopping you both in the kitchen where about five maids and servants clean up and talk.
their eyes widen at the sight of you both, you clinging onto your fiancé and your very naked bodies. you even keep your legs straight to cover bakugou’s intimates because the only person who gets to see that part of him is you.
the head maid, sophie, you’ve always liked her, speaks up first. 
“evening chief, my lady,” she nods at you both, completely unphased. the awkwardness of it all makes laughter almost bubble out of you. especially the shocked dropped jaws of the servants near the back of the room.
you can’t blame them. only this morning you and katsuki were biting each others heads off and now you’re wrapped around him. you know you must look wild with hair falling out your silk tie and only now you notice your fiancés flushed cheeks since you were out in the dark for so long.
bakugou nods back at sophie, voice blunt and bored, “sophie.”
“do either of you want dinner sent to your rooms? or possibly… clean clothes?” she tries, careful to not overstep as bakugou begins to walk away.
you can still see her from over bakugou’s shoulder and you can’t stop your smile from blossoming.
bakugou’s about to bite back but you speak before he can, “no thank you sophie! we’re okay at the moment… or are you hungry?” you ask bakugou.
he rumbles, impatient to get going, “i’m hungry for somethin’.”
you gasp, your hand sneaking into his hair at the nape of his neck, “yeah, no thanks sophie. goodnight!”
then bakugou is off stomping towards your shared quarters.
“did you see their faces?” you chuckle, and bakugou huffs unimpressed, “i bet you they’re talking about us down there.”
“gonna give them enough talk for weeks,” he replies.
the warmth in your chest simmers down when bakugou finally sets you down on your feet, outside your bedroom door. you stand before each other just looking, finding the right words to gather on your tongue but coming up with none. your fiancé reaches up to scratch the back of his head and now nervousness spreads through you as you glance to his eyes and then fixating on the beauty spot on his shoulder. 
bakugou clears his throat abruptly, opting to stand up straighter rather than his usual slouch. then he crosses his arms across his chest. he hope you don’t notice him tensing. he’s acting stupid right now.
“so i’ll, uh, see you tomorrow? for breakfast? i’ll ask them to make somethin’ different.” he rambles and he wants to sigh at how pretty you look, drag you down the hall and kiss down your body before you fall asleep in his arms.
you’re biting down on your lip, only a lit candle by your door lighting up your features. it makes you golden, the sweet curve of your breasts, your smooth skin and the loose bits of your hair. you look like a mess in the most endearing way possible, all because of him.
to you, your brain feels like a broken record every time you look at this man. trying to tuck the animalistic chants of pounce on him, bite him, hang on and never let go, to the back of your head and instead focusing on the softer aspects of katsuki. something you don’t think many people have done before you.
this is nervousness on bakugou katsuki, chief of the village and leader of the strongest army. the shuffling on his feet. the shifting from crossing his arms to holding his arms. the way his pupils bounce like a ping pong ball to your eyes and then the dancing flame beside you. he’s adorable… always so sexy. the way he’s looking over you in the darkness with need, his posture intimidating to anyone else and his raw nakedness only makes your stomach burn with desire.
“okay, i’ll see you at breakfast,” you nod, leaning back on your door behind you, rolling your lips in.
bakugou blinks as if he’s trying to clear his thoughts, then with all the control possible, he steps away from you.
“okay goodnight.” he replies but neither of you make any moves to leave.
you just stand there and so does he, simmering into a comfortable silence. a smile sneaks up on your face and bakugou laughs through his nose.
he shakes his head, closing his eyes for a second before opening them, “fuck, okay, i’m leavin’. don’t be late or i’ll drag you out of bed.”
bakugou, now with all the strength in his body, begins to walk away from you.
your flicker down to watch his tight ass and the words come out before you can stop them, “katsuki, haven’t you forgotten something?”
he turns with wide eyes. he wants you to ask him, to say it. he’s quick to walk back to you and you bite back a laugh.
“what?”
“a goodnight kiss, chief.” you reach up on your tiptoes with a tilt to your head.
not what he wanted specifically but he won’t say no.
“calling me that will get you in trouble, princess.”
“why? everyone calls you that.”
he slides a hand to your lower back, then over your ass before yanking you into his chest. it’s intimate so quickly, his touch soothing the burning under your skin. he’s everything you want, the only person you need. 
bakugou speaks lowly in your ear, “we both know you don’t mean it in the same way.”
you shrug, blissfully sighing the feeling of your nipples against his bare chest, “kiss me, husband?”
katsuki happily indulges in you like tomorrow isn’t promised. you open your mouth eagerly, leaving no space for him to peck your lips like he tried earlier. bakugou licks inside your mouth like he’s trying to consume you, drink up enough of you to last him until breakfast. you moan into his mouth and the sound serves as a green light to push you against the door. his thigh shoves between your legs and you fight the instinct to grind against him.
bakugou pulls away out of breath, one of his arms coming to rest above your head. he looms over you and your lips are dragging back to his. he smells like nature, like fresh grass and the lavender that falls into the lake. you’re sure you smell the same.
“if you want somethin’ from me, ask for it, princess.” he breathes, deep and growly. you don’t miss katsuki’s very visible arousal and yours is hard to fight. you keep your hands around his neck so you don’t end up repeating earlier.
“take me to your room, katsuki,” you tug him down to your face, initiating a kiss for the first time. your lips land on his in a fiery rush and he meets you with the same passion. you’re biting on his bottom lip, clawing at his skin to pull him even closer as he tilts his head to suck on your tongue. you’re not sure if you can ever get enough of him now you’ve got a taste and you’re happy to know he’ll always come back to sedate you.
bakugou growls against your lips, his cock twitching against your stomach. your sigh becomes a whine for more.
“i should’ve never waited so long to touch you,” and his voice opens a new door of hunger for this man as he presses his nose into your cheek.
“why didn’t you just take me there at the beginning!?” you bite and bakugou is quick you manhandle you around, pushing you by the hips down the corridor to his room at the end of the hallway.
“i like seein’ you ask me, so cute and polite. unlike when you’re tryin’ to snap at me, like a needy brat,” you slap his chest behind you but he’s so thickly skinned he barely feels it. you tilt your head up and the smile that’s across his lips is sublime. sharp white teeth that bruised your neck earlier with pink lips that are now yours to kiss. 
everything happens in a blink of an eye, shuffling down the hallway, the lust flitting through your body, even the feeling of his hands roaming your skin is a boost of energy. his feet brush against yours and he’s hard as a pole against your ass. “i am not a needy brat!”
his laugh rumbles down your ear as he leans over you to open his bedroom door. you fixate on how his fingers wrap around the doorknob, how he presses everything against you.
“i haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you since i first saw you. all this arguin’, actin’ like you’re better than me, gettin’ naked for me… you’re needy for something, aren’t you?” bakugou shoves you in his bedroom and you’re quick to be pressed against his door. it’s too dark to see anything in his room, minus the candle light by his bed. “you want something only i can give you.”
“and what’s that?” you arch your hips towards him, not disguising how you’re dying to meet him. a carnal rush floods you, ready to claw his skin to drag him as close as possible. 
bakugou’s laugh is cocky, like the answer to your question is self explanatory. a lamplight with a small flame light his ruby red eyes, turning them into molten lava. his hands rest on the door beside your head and he leans into you, giving you what you want. your whine is sweet when his cock rubs against your clit and you waste no time, grabbing him in your hand to fit between your thighs. he’s thick, the girth you only felt in your hands before, even bigger between your legs. 
a harsh grunt comes from bakugou at your touch, adoring how your hands now roam his body. fingertips on his spine, his ass, arms and chest. he becomes all breathy, overwhelmed, ripples of muscle shaking every time he exhales. you do this to him, breaking him down until he’s just a lump of nerves. 
“actually, i think you’re the needy one, katsuki,” 
bakugou grips your thigh in his large palm tightly, yanking up your leg so your knee is pressed to your chest. you yelp when he manoeuvres you though it all turns into whimpers as he grinds his cock between your legs, hitting your clit perfectly. you knock your head back on the door behind you and bakugou grinds down on his teeth, hips thrusting uncontrolled.
“you fuckin’ drive me insane. you’re everywhere, can’t pay attention to shit anymore,” one hand sneaks up your chest to squeeze your breast and a moan falls from your lips. 
your heart pounds with the admission, from his touches, “fuck me, katsuki but you gotta pull out. d-don’t want…”
“yeah, yeah can’t have you knocked up for the wedding,” he buts in, holding his cock in his fist and guiding it to the space between your legs.
“and i thought you wanted to save sex for after the wedding,” you wrap your arms tight around his neck, licking across his ear in a frenzy. bakugou rumbles in your arms and as soon as he meets your hole, it’s like air is sucked from the room.
“oh fuck, princess.”
you inhale deeply, feeling pleasure scorch through your body with a bite of pain. he’s massive, stretching you wide and he’s moving so slow. grinding up into you inch by inch as if he’s trying not to hurt you. you can tell it’s taking all his control though you want nothing more for him to be rough with you. to really fuck you like a chief would, like your husband would.
bakugou’s reached a whole other plane of existence. this is what it means to have feelings for the person you have sex with, to feel like you’re learning more about the other by being inside them. his breath is hot on your skin, pupils searching yours to see if you’re feeling the same. 
the need is palpable in the air, for more, for everything. you curl your hand over the back of his neck, dragging his lips to yours. 
“harder, fuck me harder, chief,” you demand and bakugou replies by pressing his lips to yours and doing what you say.
he’s all over you, starting a rhythm that would have your head rolling if he wasn’t kissing you so hard. you’re complete pleasure, hands raking through his hair, over his shoulders. his cock kisses your softest parts, again and again and again, so much of him inside of you that your breath halts in your throat.
“how is fuckin’ everythin’ about you so…,” a wet kiss lands on your jaw, then another with a swift flick of his hips making you whine, “so perfect.”
there’s no logical thought in bakugou’s head as he slides his hands under your ass and immediately your legs reach around his waist. it’s uncoordinated with the rest of the world but together, you’re in unison as your lips find each others again, sucking desperately in order to find out more. he holds all your weight effortlessly in his hands, carrying you to press against the curtains on the other side of the room. 
he swears he’s trying to get to the bed but you’re so tight, so wet around him it feels heavenly. you’re against the curtains now, and with every deep thrust he gives, you fall further and further away from the realities of life, especially the sound of ripping from above you.
“oh god,” your voice shakes, meeting him with every thrust and you think your pleasure is capped until he begins to thumb at your clit. rubbing slow circles at a completely different speed to his cock. “you’re too big.”
bakugou’s chuckle vibrates down your eardrum and you chase his lips for another connection, “you know how to boost my ego, huh?”
to his delight, you drawl in a tone so sweet, “it’s true. so big.”
there’s no chance to reply when with reflexes faster than light, bakugou’s hand cradles your head to his chest and rushes you over to his bed, right before his curtains crash to the ground.
bakugou pays no mind to it, his hand drifting back to your clit and he coats your neck in his teeth marks. it’s so much easier to fuck you on his bed, your hair circling you, his knee sinking into his mattress and pulling one of his pillows to stuff under your lower back.
“did we just?” you can barely pay attention with how your eyes flutter shut at every kiss though it’s hard to ignore the massive uncovered window before you, showing the midnight sky ahead. you’re lucky this area of his house is private so nobody would be able to see what you’re doing.
your back arches, heat coiling tight in your stomach as his thumb speeds up against your clit. it’s a lot, “you made me break and rip the curtains, princess.”
“m-me? you’re the animal, throwing me ah-around!” you manage, though there’s no bite behind your words, instead you’re sinking your fingers into his hair, keeping his face close above yours.
“you love it, princess.”
katsuki is beautiful, rough edges, scars and marks against your softer curves and skin. your thumbs smooth against his eyebrows and you come to an understanding looking into his carmine eyes. 
he flicks his thumb, and you gasp, mouth wide, “i’m gonna, i’m gonna c—,”
“i know, i know,” he soothes, squeezing your thigh, “i’ve got you.”
you never finish your sentence as shudders shake your body. your legs tighten around his waist when the starlight pleasure flushes your entire body, lighting you up from the inside. you think you’re scratching his back with your nails though the only words you catch him saying are rough mumbles of, “beautiful, so fuckin’ beautiful,” before he gets hit with the same pleasure. 
bakugou keeps his forearm by your head, careful to not crush you with his weight. he pulls out of you like he promised, white spluttering over your stomach and breasts. he tugs at his cock thrice with a growl and clenched eyes, the sweet release seeping out of his limbs and swapping with exhaustion.
you tire him, rendering undone like nothing has ever done before. he's careful to fall on the bed beside you, coming back to earth by yanking you into his chest for a cuddle.
“so that was good,” you muffle against his chest, reaching up to kiss his cheek.
bakugou doesn’t think he’s laughed so much in a single day, or even smiled. a chuckle erupts from him, pushing loose strands of hair off his face and looking over at you, already looking at him.
“good? don’t lie to me, honey.”
you run your finger along his collarbones, “you’re right, it was okay.”
bakugou rolls his eyes, grasping your chin in his hand and waving your head around. your giggles fill the room and bakugou feels his chest expand with fresh air. 
 “why are you still tryin’ to fuck with me?” he’s breathless. not from the sex, just from how happiness looks on you.
you pull his hand from your chin with barely any resistance, curling his fingers with your hand and laying his fist to your chest.
“it’s fun,” you grin and you’re so kissable above him that he finds himself pouting his lips just so that you can kiss him again. you whisper, “i loved it.”
“yeah?” he flicks his eyes down to the drying release on your stomach, “i’ll ask for them to boil some water. i’ll clean you up.”
“or we could go again?” you rub your thigh against his, your hand moving to cradle the side of his head. “me on top this time?”
bakugou doesn’t know how to say no to you, maybe he could have forced one last week but not now with the moonlight lighting up from behind you, making you glow like an angel. he also just doesn’t want to say no. he wants you again, he doesn’t think he’ll ever not.
you look almost shy, biting down on your lip though your need for him is so strong, you’re not afraid to ask.
“don’t be goin’ shy on me, princess,” he hums, “i’ll give you anythin’.”
your eyebrows rise, “you’d let me be on top?”
“course i would. why wouldn’t i?”
you shrug, getting on your knees to straddle his waist, “you don’t seem the type to be okay with being submissive.”
his hands rest on your thighs when you settle and you run your hands up the hard curves of his chest, “you being on top doesn’t mean i’m gonna be submissive below you. i’m still gonna fuck you.”
his blunt words have the coil in your stomach tighten all over again, warming up and spreading like a forest fire. you reach behind you to grasp at his half hard cock, holding him tightly. he shows no reaction minus the twitch in your palm.
“i could be submissive for you, let you have your way with me. talk how you’d like,” he slides a hand up to grasp at your breast, pinching your perked nipple between two fingertips, “not today though.”
you’re like a mewling cat, curling into his palm for more of his touch. you lift your hips, slowly sinking onto his cock and getting used to the stretch of him at a whole new angle.
“oh god,” you screech unexpectedly, rolling in the fact you feel him growing inside you, getting harder by the second.
“katsuki. i thought you didn’t wanna see me as a deity,” he chuckles amused before thrusting upwards and having you fall forward, hands bracing on his chest.
“katsuki!”
“shit, you’re the prettiest thing. all for me. gonna get me addicted,” he blurts every thought on his mind, the feeling of your warmth completely sheathing him overwhelming.
you already look fucked out your mind, barely remembering how you wanted to fuck him. you lift your hips and begin bouncing on his cock, flinging your head back and whining when every touch touches your spot without fail.
“right there, honey?” and he sounds so sickly sweet, honey down your throat as he drags you down by the back of your neck to kiss him. it’s messy and wet, his tongue out to lick across yours.
“i can’t be a good, fuck, a good husband if you don’t talk to me.” 
“feels so good, katsuki,” you say, the squelching sound of your wetness louder than your voice, “i think i’m gonna die.”
another laugh chases through him, his hands dipping down to squeeze your ass, “you’re not dying on me, honey.”
sex with bakugou is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. so completely devastating in the most beautiful way. you moan like a whore when he roughly squeezes your asscheeks and your eyes clench shut when a finger, lubricated in your own wetness, rubs circles against your asshole.
katsuki pays attention, watching every reaction to be sure you won’t be able to even joke saying that sex is okay with him. 
“you like when i touch your ass, princess?” your head is stuffed in his neck, wailing loud enough he’s sure the maids and servants must be able to hear, “my wife is a dirty girl.”
“i-i’m not,” you murmur, unsure to correct him on the wife or dirty part.
he keeps at the circles with his finger, rutting his hips up every time you try to fuck back into him. he’s stronger, movements filled with so much more power, that your body shakes. you’re so close to bursting. 
bakugou can tell you’re close, “say you are and i’ll let you come.”
you try to lift up, “you’re so annoying.”
he grins, punctuating his comment was a thrust, “c’mon.”
you bite down on your lip, the burning hot need killing you.
it’s a whisper, “i’m a dirty girl.”
“that’s not what i want.” he presses on your ass and you gasp. so close.
“i’m your dirty wife,” you’re unable to bite at him, instead your teeth find the meat of his shoulder as your orgasm rushes through you with ocean size waves.
bakugou stuffs an inch of his finger in your ass, and you burst, clenching around his cock so tight, he’s calling out to whatever god is listening so he doesn’t come inside you.
the pleasure feels unreal. rattling down to your fingertips, clearing your head like you’re walking through clouds. there are no thoughts but this beautiful man below you. 
when you’re finished, body limp on his, he’s quick to roll you off him, coming all over his chest. 
you’re all sweaty and sticky, not even bothering to lay back in his arms though he can’t help but find your hand and kiss it softly.
“i want you with me all day tomorrow.”
“katsuki—,” you start but he continues.
“i wanna feed you the best shit i can get, have you meet daisy properly, meet my friends, properly take you into the village. i’ll get the key for the library too,” he breathes in a rush. he rolls his head to face you, “i meant what i said, i’m gonna be the best for you.”
your smile is sleepy, “i don’t doubt it but i think most of tomorrow might be in bed.”
his eyes shine, “you’re insatiable. my cock is that good?”
you push his face with your fingers, “no stupid, i’m probably going to ache tomorrow.”
his adoration for you doesn’t leave, “it’s the same question, princess. my cock is that good?”
you huff though you don’t fight your smile.
“i’ll look after you. i’ll get some hot water to clean us up for now and we can bathe in the morning.”
bakugou sits up, raking his hand through his hair and resting his other on your thigh.
“okay,” you’re glowing, cheeks raised.
then he’s up and off, shoving on some old cloths not before turning around to check you haven’t magically disappeared from the bed. you obviously haven’t, though you’re resting on your forearms looking out the curtainless window. you feel him staring so you look at him again.
“yes?”
bakugou grunts, rubbing his face roughly like it will wake him up out of his new lovesickness over his fiancé.
“nothin’. don’t leave,” he moves to shut the door behind him but he still hears you call out.
“this is my home! where else would i go?”
bakugou needs to stop this stupid grin before his servants think he’s actually under a spell… who’s he fooling? they all heard your screams earlier.
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