everythings gnarly

hi, i'm abby, 23 main blog!!

[abby-loves-aphrodite]

hi! i’m abby

i’m 23, my pronouns are she/her.

southern girl from louisiana 🫶🏻

i identify as queer. my dms are not open for men.

scorpio. 🤍

Katseye and Skz are my ults 🤍

Lara and Bang Chan biased

i have a side blog where i write for skz and katseye but im stupid and don’t know how to link so 😭

[revolvingsaturn]

It’s finally here! my first kinktober posting on tumblr!! soso excited to write these shorts and oneshots for you all °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

this is the list- at the start of November, I’ll open requests to extend these oneshots into fully fledged fics!

NOTE: due to some of the links just.. never working (and the tag for my kinktober not working either) I lowkey give up and I can only advise you to scroll through my profile, I’m sorry!!!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

day 1-joint overstimulation | Keigo Takami

day 2-dacryphillia | Dabi

day 3-mutual masturbation | Hanta Sero

day 4-finger sucking | Shoto Todoroki

day 5-omegaverse | Katsuki Bakugo

day 6-dumbification | Hitoshi Shinso

day 7-marking | Dabi

day 8-accidental vouyerism | Shouta Aizawa

day 9-teacher x student (roleplay) | Tenya Iida

day 10-blowjobs | Atsuhiro Sako

day 11-handcuffs | Denki Kaminari

day 12-service top | Toshinori Yagi

day 13-power bottom | Katsuki Bakugo

day 14-choking | Tomura Shigaraki

day 15-sex pollen | Naomasa Tsukauchi

day 16-creampie | Tamaki Amajiki

day 17-messy sex | Denki Kaminari

day 18-mirror sex | Keigo Takami

day 19-underwear gags | Tamaki Amajiki

day 20-biting | Eijiro Kirishima

day 21-praise | Izuku Midoriya

day 22-degradation | Neito Monoma

day 23-lingerie | Shoto Todoroki

day 24-hair pulling | Hizashi Yamada

day 25-spit | Hitoshi Shinso

day 26-spanking | Shouta Aizawa

day 27-breeding | Tomura Shigaraki

day 28-hot tub sex | Tenya Iida

day 29-wall sex | Eijiro Kirishima

day 30- claustrophilia | Izuku Midoriya

day 31-threesome | Dabi + Keigo Takami

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

tag requests are now closed- due to the amount of people who wanted to be tagged, I randomly chose 50 people as to not be unfair and keep within tumblr’s limit; if you didn’t make it on, im sorry!!

masterlist

[masochistkatsuki]

late birthday sex is still birthday sex

a/n, kinda toxic dynamic but whats new, katsuki has bigger boobs than the reader but whats new, sub katsuki, dom reader, 99% sure its gn but pls lmk if i gendered anything, degradation, semi public sex, interruptions, tell me if i need to add something please ! proof read once but im dumb as shit and usually need to proof read like five times. pretend i posted this on time

"katsuki if you dont shut up now I will seriously fucking kill you."

you felt his dick twitch twice rapidly before he whined and threw his head on your shoulder. it was just above a whisper, and way too loud for kirishima's thin walls.

your jaw clenched at the sound- as much as him being pathetic and needy turned you on, it pissed you off equally so. you hope they aren't correlated he was widely regarded as one of the strongest, and most who met him shuddered under his harsh gaze for months after meeting him.

"fuck. please. m' sorry, i swear m' sorry. just need it so bad, you get it, right ?" no. you didn't get it. at all. a few minutes ago, he was cussing out his friends for throwing such a 'stupid' party for his birthday, and looked so mad you assumed his dick was probably shrinking in on itself.

not to mention, you arent a submissive bitch. he clearly is. with the way hes pressing you against the bathroom door, hands threatening to bruise your lips, you'd expect him to be on a power trip. but no. all you had to do was sit around, look at him, and laugh when he came up with a particularly witty insult, and he was asking you to help fix his hair in the bathroom.

he hasn't fixed his hair since interning with best jeanist.

you sighed, a defeated one. you felt him perk up just a little bit. god, no matter how submissive he was, he was still just a little demanding and subtly controlling. of course, you notice this. usually this would've just resulted in you stepping on his dick and going back to the party, saving the group the tension. usually its only awkward because kaminari also gets hard, but if you ignore that they can honestly get past it.

but.. its his birthday. you sigh even louder, mostly just teasing him at this point. before he lets his guard down and gets too playful, you grab a fist of his hair and pull his head to look at yours. a louder, choked moan falls from his lips. you're genuinely weighing the pros and cons. youre trying to rationalize it by saying he deserves it for his birthday but.. the two are definitely correlated.

the more he begs and leaks against your shorts, the more the idea of shutting him up gets maddening. "fine." you roll your eyes and pretend you aren't looking forward to it just as much as he is.

he looks at you with the softest saddest eyes, an expression you wouldve never believed you'd get to see from him when you first met. "if you really dont want to, we dont have to." he began to pull away, but the rawness and vulnerability stirred something so deep within you you almost felt guilty. even more so, his genuine care for how you felt and what you wanted despite of how badly he clearly needed you melted your heart.

"no." you let go of his hair and caressed the back of his neck, gently playing with the small hairs that lead up to the spikes. if he knew any better, hed call the contrast in your touch terrifying. you pulled him closer, so close your breath was fanning against the shell of his ear. between his soft gasps, you said, "i like it when you're like this." you considered your words carefully, you usually wouldnt say something so traditionally submissive, but you didn't want him to feel like what he was doing made you uncomfortable. "please, dont go." you stared even deeper into him, hoping your eyes werent betraying how genuine you were trying to be. "i want you too."

you knew it was probably a little manipulative, acting so mean then throwing in a bit of how you really felt to keep him from leaving. but you also knew he wasnt stupid. the way his eyes lit up and pierced into yours like you were the only person on earth. the way his breath hitched and his dick was finally pushed fully against your stomach. you'd always sugarcoat it when putting it into words, but you knew it was downright manipulative and a pattern, but youd always do it because it made him so fucking happy.

because just like him crying and whining, being pathetic and bitchy made you want him, you being cold, calculating, manipulative, and mean made him feel so painfully good. "fuck. fuck i love you oh my god." his hips circled and humped into you with small but quick moments, and his voice became much more stuttery "thank you, oh fuck thank you. this was all i wanted today. only this. only you."

"you're so dumb." you hum, but theres not a hint of malice in your words. "youre welcome, baby" your hand slides down his neck, down his clothed chest, and over his pretty waist. you press a heated kiss to his mouth. his lips are soft like a girl's, and he always opens his mouth a little first, inviting you in. your hand is eventually at the waistband of his sweats, teasing the skin under it.

hes not quiet, just muffled. and as much as youd love to take your time and ruin him slowly and excruciatingly, the growing anxiety of kaminari playing dumb and trying to come in to 'make sure you guys are okay' was getting to you.

reluctantly, you pull away from him, but your hand stays provoking him. "here are the rules. if you want me to touch you, we have to finish it up quickly before it ruins the mood of that stupid ass party."

"so you do think it's stupid." he grins boyishly, eyes glinting with the same mischievousness that made you fall in love with him. his hips are leaning way more into your hand now that you're finally giving him the attention.

you sigh, but you can feel yourself smiling. you can't help but adore his antics, "sure, katsuki. if you think its stupid, then i think its stupid too. now tell me, how long are you going to let kaminari fantasize and add further details to what he thinks we're doing ? dont forget midoriya's puppy crush on you either, he might break and join in." you smile wider, but now its much more condescending.

if it weren't for how conniving you were, he wouldve been turned off just at kaminari's name. "yes, fuck, yes. i promise." he whined out, delirious at this point, "anything for you, pleasedontsayhisnameagain, anything. ill do anything please, please, please just touch me."

you laugh, you can't tell if he's trying to be funny, but youre amused either way. finally, you pull his pants down just far enough to reveal his boxers. the fabric was strained and stretched from trying to contain his hard on for this long, and you could see the distinct outline of his tip through all the precum leaking through. "soooo prettyyyy" you coo, praise being the ultimate form of humiliation for him. the pad of your thumb is circling his frenulum just soft enough to start building him up. his whining is just a little high pitched and slow but long. it almost sounds like he's in pain.

for whatever reason, a cord of reason and composure snaps within you. his eyes are gazing into yours like you just told him you put every grain of sand on the beach just for him, like you've given him the air he breathes. beads of sweat drip down his neck and forehead, while his ears and face are burning up. its all too much.

"fuck!" he's practically yelling as you suddenly switch your actions to fully pull cock out, letting your hand roam freely over its full body. he really didnt expect you to go for it just like that, even when you were keeping others waiting, you prioritized teasing him until he was as dazed as possible. "holy shit, thank you oh my god. thank you so much."

hes not even trying to whisper, and unlike most people, he doesn't really differentiate talking voicing and screaming. you kiss him roughly, letting your tongue roll over him and press his own around. you're basically bullying him. at this point, your fully jerking him off, using a harsh fast pace.

you're letting your hand go on autopilot, mainly focusing on collecting all the noise he was making with your own body. your other hand is cupping his cheek, holding him firmly in place, even though you know he'd never pull away. you want to feel him in your grasp, and he likes being held in it.

between breathes and small breaks hes crying out a small "i love you" with every one. his hands grip and massage wherever he can, flying from your chest, waist, hips, ass, thighs, anywhere he can find balance. his breath is getting broken and scarce, with his heart beating out of his quickly rising and falling chest.

the room is spinning, and you don't think there's any oxygen left anymore. for just a moment, it feels like its just the two of you laying together in your bed, only you, him, and this overwhelming feeling. you dont know why, but your chest feels so tight. like its about to explode all on its own, and you pull away just to admire katsuki as if it would help.

hes so pretty like this, cheeks stained with blush and tears, hair even more fucked up from getting dragged around and tugged. you move your hand down to the bottom of his shirt, and reach back up but under the material to his bare chest. you scratch relatively harsh down one of his bigger boobs, trying to imagine how the red marks look under his shirt. suddenly, his head tilts back, and your blood runs cold as you realize hes about to cum and his lips are totally not on yours.

well fuck ? it was worth it no matter what, how could it not be, when he was screaming your name for everyone to hear. now that shutting him up and killing him was out the window, you decided to focus on palming at his tip. it did nothing to stop his release from dripping down to the floor and onto your shorts, but atleast you saved your shirts from being totally ruined. you could probably figure out how to deal with that atleast.

relishing in his moans, you gave up on saving him the humiliation. it would make for an even hotter round at home anyway. "oh my god. i love you." he sobbed, throwing his head on your shoulder again.

you untangle your hand from its placement and softly but tantalizingly rub his shoulders. "what a pathetic whore, you can beg for me to touch you cant even look at me after you cum ? stop being a bi-"

before you could finish insulting your boyfriend, a knock was heard behind you, "oh god fucking damnit" he muttered. you were being so mean and of course it was getting interrupted.

"hey, are you guys okay ?" you hear kaminari's voice ring out, not a hint of concern to it. "I just wanted to make sure that you guys were okay you know, and.....

♡

[warmfigure]

i am massively overdue for a very very good week where not a single bad thing happens and everything is easy

[unlettered-heathen]

reblog to give prev a very good week where not a single bad thing happens and everything is easy

[lycheedr3ams]

Girlies

You NEED to listen to this König-coded farmhandxfem!listener audio… obviously MINORS BLOCK ME THIS IS LITERAL AUDIO PORN

seriously girls, take some time to relax and listen to this. I think you will like it

soundgasm.net

I’ll spare y’all the details but…. Listen to it (below the cut is a bit tmi lol)

You ever come so hard you forget what day it is?

[flxttershyz]

GOOD BOY, BAD ATTITUDE.

day one: brat taming — katsuki bakugo

⚠️ Content Warnings / Tags: NSFW / 18+ Brat‑taming dynamic Dom/sub undertones (reader taking control) Rough language / insults / degradation (verbal) Orgasm denial / edging Cockplay & nipple play Praise kink Slight humiliation / power struggle Consensual power exchange Aftercare implied

enjoy!

your boyfriend is in one of those moods again. the kind where he can’t stop sneering, voice dripping with insult even as he’s tugging you closer by the waistband of your shorts.

“the fuck are you smiling at? you look stupid.” his tone is mean, sharper than it needs to be. he says it because he knows it’ll spark that glint in your eye, because he wants the attention. katsuki bakugo is never gentle with his words, and today he’s even less patient than usual.

you smooth your thumb over the sharp cut of his jaw, smiling softer just to irritate him further. “smiling at you, baby. you’re pretty when you’re angry.”

his scowl deepens. “don’t call me pretty, dumbass. i’ll knock that smug look right off your face.” he snaps, but his hands don’t leave your body. they grip tighter, pulling you into his lap on the edge of the bed, thighs flexing under you like he’s ready to spring.

you know better than to back down. katsuki thrives on push-and-pull, the constant battle of wills, but what he doesn’t realize—what he always forgets—is how much you love peeling him down into something softer. you know how to drag him into submission without him ever noticing he’s sinking.

“i like when you talk tough,” you murmur, brushing your nose against his. “gets me all worked up.”

his laugh is sharp, mocking. “tch. you’re such a fuckin’ perv. always wet just ‘cause i call you names.” his hand slips down between you like he’s about to prove it, but you catch his wrist, pinning it back to the mattress with lazy strength.

his crimson eyes widen, then narrow. “the fuck you think you’re doing?”

“taking control, baby. you’re too worked up to touch.”

he barks out a laugh, chest heaving against yours. “you? controlling me? don’t make me laugh, princess.” he spits the word like venom, daring you to react.

you only kiss his cheek sweetly, still pinning his wrist. “yeah, me. don’t worry, i’ll take care of you. even if you’re being a little mean.”

his ears flush red. “i’m not—”

you cut him off with your hand slipping under his shirt, nails dragging lightly over the ridges of his stomach until he shudders. his protest dies in his throat, replaced by a low growl.

“don’t start this shit,” he warns, but there’s already heat flooding his skin under your touch.

you lean down, voice syrupy soft, lips brushing his ear. “relax, katsuki. let me.”

he jerks against your grip, testing. “i said i’m not lettin’ you do—”

your other hand slides higher, thumb flicking over his nipple, and his words collapse into a sharp inhale.

there it is. the weak spot he hates admitting to.

“fuck off,” he grits, but his chest arches into your palm before he can stop it.

you grin, rubbing gentle circles around the hard peak, tugging just enough to make him gasp. “see? feels good, doesn’t it?”

“shut the hell up.” his voice cracks just slightly, betraying him.

you press a kiss to his throat, slow and sweet, pinching lightly until he squirms. “it’s okay, baby. you don’t have to say it. i’ll get you there nice and slow.”

his free hand fists the sheets, knuckles pale. “i’m not some fuckin’ toy for you to mess with.”

you hum, dragging your tongue up his pulse point. “you’re right. you’re my boyfriend. i like taking care of my boyfriend.”

he snarls, trying to keep the upper hand even as his nipples harden under your teasing fingers. “you’re gonna regret this when i flip you over.”

“maybe,” you whisper against his skin, pinching harder until he gasps, “but for now, you’re not going anywhere.”

you don’t let him. you edge him with featherlight strokes, then sharp pinches, switching between his nipples until his back bows off the bed. every time he starts to grind up against you for relief, you pull back, keeping him just shy of satisfaction.

“fuck you,” he pants, sweat beading on his forehead.

“language,” you chide sweetly, leaning back just enough to look at him. his hair is wild against the pillow, eyes blazing with frustration, chest flushed pink. “be nice to me or i’ll stop.”

“bullshit,” he spits immediately. “you’re too fuckin’ needy to stop.”

your smile doesn’t falter. “maybe. but i could make you wait all night, katsuki. just touching your pretty chest, watching you squirm.”

he growls deep in his throat, jerking against your grip, but he can’t shake you off. his breathing is ragged now, each twist of your fingers making his hips twitch.

“say please,” you coax, voice dripping with patience.

“never.” his answer is immediate, sharp, defiant.

so you pinch both nipples at once, rolling them between your fingers until he yells, hips bucking uncontrollably.

“ah—fuck! stop!”

you let go instantly, soothing with soft rubs and a kiss to his sternum. “shh, it’s okay, baby. you’re doing so good for me.”

his chest heaves, eyes glassy with the edges of something he’d never admit to. “you’re—fuck—you’re crazy.”

“crazy about you,” you correct, kissing the corner of his mouth, sweet as ever. “and i know exactly how to handle you, katsuki.”

his lip curls, ready to snap again, but you’re already tugging his shirt higher, already lowering your mouth to his chest.

the second your tongue flicks over a sensitive nipple, his whole body jolts like you shocked him.

“don’t—don’t fuckin’—” his words break into a strangled sound when you suck lightly, teasing him with your mouth and fingers at once.

you hum against his skin, ignoring his weak thrashing, the sharp insults he throws between gasps. it takes patience, coaxing him through the bratty resistance, easing him closer to the edge without letting him fall.

every moan ripped from his throat makes your smile softer. you know he’ll break eventually.

he always does.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

his hips jerk up when your nails scrape lightly over the bulge, catching against the damp spot on his shorts. “f-fuckin’ tease,” he snaps, even as his breath catches. “you think you’re in control? i’ll wreck you the second you—”

you pinch his nipple hard enough to cut him off. katsuki’s head throws back with a strangled groan, his throat working as he swallows the sound down. his hands clench into fists at his sides, shaking with the effort not to grab you.

“you were saying, baby?” you murmur, soft as syrup, kissing his jaw like you didn’t just bring him to his knees with one little pinch. “hm? what was that?”

“tch—!” his words fail him again when you tug both buds at once, rolling them between your fingers. his hips buck instinctively, cock pressing helplessly against the soaked fabric of his shorts. there’s a wet stain spreading darker, his precum leaking so much it’s seeping through his boxers too.

“look at you,” you coo, your tone dipped in sugar while your touch stays sharp. you drag your nails across his chest, circle back to his nipples until they’re red and pebbled, raw from your attention. “hard as a rock, dripping through your shorts, all because i’m being ‘mean.’”

“sh-shut the fuck up,” katsuki spits, but his voice breaks halfway through, pitched higher, weaker than he wants. he jerks his hips again like he can find friction, but you slap your palm against the wet outline of his cock through the shorts — firm, controlling.

“ah-ah,” you sing gently, pressing down just enough to make him whine in his throat. “good boys don’t hump without permission.”

his glare sharpens, but his eyes are glassy now, pupils blown. “i’m not a fuckin’ good boy.”

you smile, leaning close enough to let your lips graze the corner of his mouth without giving him the kiss. “not yet.”

your fingers tweak his nipples again, relentless, dragging another choked noise from deep in his chest. the muscles in his thighs are trembling, his shorts so wet at the front it looks obscene.

he tries for another insult, tries to bark at you again, but what slips out is only a broken moan, shaky and wet, like his body has decided for him.

“hear that?” you whisper, stroking over his chest like you’re soothing him when really you’re setting every nerve alight. “you sound so pretty when you stop fighting me. maybe if you keep begging without words, i’ll let you come.”

katsuki’s whole body jerks at that, hips stuttering. “f-fuck you,” he snarls, but it’s thin, desperate, soaked through with need.

“baby,” you hum, dragging his soaked waistband down just enough to free his cock, flushed and leaking, precum drooling down the length and staining his thighs. “sweetheart, you’re already fucking yourself on my hand. look at you. dripping everywhere. shaking.”

his jaw drops at the sight — at himself, humiliated and turned on and trembling.

you cup his balls in one hand, gentle, almost reverent, while your other hand returns to his nipples, rolling and tugging them until he’s gasping for breath.

“don’t,” he warns, but his hips are rolling forward against your touch anyway, greedy for more friction.

“don’t what?” you ask innocently, twisting his nipple hard enough to make him cry out. “don’t stop? don’t make you fall apart? don’t show you what a good boy you can be?”

the word lands, heavy and hot, and his eyes squeeze shut like he’s trying to fight it, fight you, fight himself. but his cock leaks another messy spurt down his stomach, his chest heaving under your hands.

“fuck—fuckin’ hate you,” he pants, voice breaking.

you kiss the corner of his mouth again, soft and sweet, fingers never slowing. “i know, baby. i love you too.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“what— you think just pullin’ my cock out’s gonna make me beg? get the fuck outta here,” he snaps, voice sharp even though his thighs twitch when your hand ghosts over his length. “i could get myself off faster than you’re—ah, fuck—”

your thumb brushes across his slit, spreading that slick down his shaft, and his words cut into a gasp. his hips buck once, betraying him, before he locks them down tight against the couch cushion. his eyes flash up at you like he’s daring you to mention it.

you only smile. sweet, steady. calm where he’s chaos.

“katsuki,” you murmur, thumb dragging slow circles over his flushed head, “you’re so wet for me. you’ve been dripping this whole time.”

“shut up,” he growls, but his voice cracks halfway, breaking on the shiver that runs down his spine when you squeeze his shaft just enough to make the blood pulse hot against your fingers. “don’t—don’t talk to me like i’m some fuckin’—”

“baby?” you finish for him, leaning down to kiss the sharp line of his jaw. “you are, though. look at you.”

his teeth clench like he wants to spit back another insult, but you catch his nipple between your fingers again, rolling it slow, and his whole body jerks. a raw noise bursts out of him—half-growl, half-moan—and he throws his head back against the couch.

“f-fuck, stop—”

“stop?” your hand drifts lazily down his cock, stroking him just enough to keep him trembling but never enough to give release. “you mean don’t stop.”

his chest heaves, sweat sliding down his collarbone. his cock twitches in your palm, leaking slick trails across your fingers, proof written all over his body that he doesn’t mean a single word of resistance anymore.

“you’re—fuck—you’re a pain in the ass,” he spits, but it’s breathless, ragged. his hips thrust weakly up into your fist, chasing friction he can’t control. “think you’re so good, huh? makin’ me wait—”

“mm,” you hum, pressing your thumb hard against his slit, and his words shatter into a groan. “i know i’m good. you’re the one who can’t keep your mouth shut long enough to admit you need me.”

he lets out a ragged laugh, wild and desperate. “like i’d—hahhh—ever fuckin’—admit—”

his words dissolve when you twist his nipple between two fingers, rolling it rough, while stroking him faster at the same time. his hips leave the couch, whole body bucking into your touch, like the bratty act is bleeding out of him drop by drop with every stroke.

“say it,” you whisper against his ear, soft and honey-sweet, a perfect contrast to the way you’re working him raw. “say you need me.”

his eyes squeeze shut, lips curling in a snarl, but another moan drags out of his chest, wrecked and needy. his cock kicks in your hand, precum smearing over your knuckles as you edge him higher.

“n-no—fuck you—”

“mm, you’re already fucking my hand, katsuki,” you murmur, kissing the sweat-damp side of his neck. “look at you. messy. leaking. so sweet when you’re like this.”

he bucks harder, panting like he’s losing ground fast, hands fisting the couch cushions because if he touches you he knows he’ll break.

“god, i hate you,” he gasps, voice wrecked, high and thin.

you smile against his throat, stroking him tight, squeezing just under his head until he’s trembling all over.

“no, baby. you love me like this.”

he cracks—right there, right then. a raw, helpless groan rips out of him, his head tipping back, throat bared, cock throbbing so hard in your hand it feels like he’s about to explode.

and still, you don’t let him come.

you slow your strokes, grip easing, letting him hover right at the edge while his chest heaves like he’s drowning. his eyes fly open, bloodshot and wild, and he actually pleads—

“don’t—don’t stop, please, fuck, i’ll—”

you tilt your head, all calm sweetness. “you’ll what?”

his mouth opens and closes, stubbornness fighting his own body, but his cock jerks helplessly, another spill of precum sliding down his length, betraying him more than words ever could.

“…need you,” he rasps finally, voice cracked and broken, nothing like the cocky bite he started with. “fuck, i need you.”

the words land hot between you, your smile soft as you finally stroke him faster, firmer, dragging him to the breaking point. he moans shamelessly now, hips thrusting up to meet every pass of your fist, all that bratty fire burned down into raw, aching need.

and when he comes, it’s messy, explosive, his whole body curling forward as thick ropes of cum spill over your hand, your wrist, his abs. he groans through it, half-snarling, half-whining, chest shuddering while you milk him for every drop.

when it’s over, he collapses back against the couch, panting hard, hair damp, eyes glassy with the edges of subspace.

you wipe your hand across his stomach, smearing his own mess over him, before leaning down to kiss his cheek.

“good boy,” you whisper. “see? you just needed me to take care of you.”

he groans again, weakly shoving at your shoulder, but his face burns crimson, and the way his chest rises soft and slow now tells you he’s gone pliant, boneless in your hands.

brat tamed.

⟡ made by @flxttershyz , please do not copy or repost without consent!!⟡

[yanderenightmare]

Yandere Seven Deadly Sins

♡ AN: from the Promptlist

♡ TW: a lot of different stuff today, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, stalking, gangbang, harsh language, sexual exploitation, bondage, zero holes safe, and more, read at your own risk

♡ FEM reader

Pride is an artist, and you, poor dear, are lucky enough to be his muse.

You’d caught his eye one day simply by coincidence while working your part-time job as a barista.

And though it had been a rather unorthodox request—between balancing school and work and constantly finding yourself both strapped for cash and strapped for time—you’d decided to quit and take him up on his offer—as what he was offering was about twice what you could make at the cafe anyway.

He’s not that much older than you, but he’s old money. And while you're stuck in community college, he goes to an elite art school—which he doesn’t even show up to, 'cause why would he? They can't afford to kick him out anyway, given his father’s donations make up half of their yearly budget.

And so he's free to self-study as much as he wants.

Yeah... he’s a little too used to getting what he wants—exactly how he wants it—without delay. So when you struggle to come to your sessions on time due to having to take the bus to the other side of town, he decides to solve it by buying you a car. And when he doesn’t feel like that’s sufficient enough, he buys you an apartment right above his own studio. And when you try to reject, he only has three concise words for you.

“Don’t be stupid.”

The way he says it leaves very little up for debate. In fact, it leaves you mute each and every time. 

It was nice in the beginning—you didn’t protest to anything other than his overpriced gifts. You were flattered and blushy and giddy and more than happy to sit pretty for him for hours at a time while he sketched and sculpted and painted and whatnot. It was essentially nothing in comparison to the luxuries he gave you in return.

But you think, at some point along the way, he must have forgotten that he only owns the artworks he makes of you—not you yourself.

“N-naked?” you stutter, looking at him wide-eyed where he stands in his usual apron—flecked with the proof of your countless sessions. Honestly, it was getting to be a little strange posing for him in a room stuffed with a myriad of sketches, paintings, and statues of yourself. Hadn’t he had enough?

“I can’t capture you correctly when you wear all these rags,” he says—clinically, though with a pinch of impatience just shy of vexation—eyeing you from head to toe, almost with a look of disgust while beholding your clothes, despite being the one who’d bought them. “They obscure everything. So take them off.”

You knew he’d probably had about a hundred models undress for him, and stand here—old, young, men, women—you knew it probably didn’t mean much to him. He probably regarded it the same way he does everything—without even batting an eye. However…

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do that…” You fiddle with your fingers, standing there, still dressed despite him standing ready at his easel, foot-tapping while waiting for you, already with a stick of charcoal between his fingers. 

“Why are you making a fuss? You think I haven’t seen a naked body before?” he jokes, but without humor—no, rather strictness as if you’re wasting very precious time. “This is standard practice—don’t make it anything than what it is.”

There he goes again with those very final words that make you feel all in all kind of silly.

You bite your lip and mull it over before ever-so-begrudgingly uttering a weak little, “Okay…”

You suppose he was right. This is a job, and it’s just nudity—just another shape in the eyes of an artist—it doesn’t mean anything—is what you tell yourself while you undress. Still, you can’t help but feel flush—heart pounding in your chest as you fold your clothes all neatly for some other nervous reason. 

“Resume the pose,” he says—almost like a drill sergeant. And you jump into place, timidly rushing over to the chaise where you lie down like before.

This does feel like it would be a better painting, you admit. More reminiscent of Renaissance art and such. Not that you know much about it, but thinking back to field trips through the museum, you seem to remember having seen plenty of portraits of naked ladies lying on pretty but uncomfortable sofas just like this.

He seems very invested, at least. A deep furl between his brows, nearly scowling at you while he works—though you’ve come to learn that it’s just his concentration face.

After a while, he sets his charcoal down and wipes his blackened hands on his apron.

You sit up, asking, “Are you done?” All but ready to leap from your seat to your clothes and finally cover yourself again.

“No, keep still,” he all but reprimands—voice intense as he stalks across the floor over to you with determination written plainly across his face.

You draw back in place as he rests his knee on the chaise and leans forward. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come and correct your pose, but you couldn’t help but flinch this time around, feeling just a bit too exposed.

His hands are warm and overworked, both dry and a bit clammy all at the same time. You didn’t mind much when you wore clothes, but it felt a bit too intimate now as he touched your bare skin. But you bear with it despite that.

Eyes closed, you repeat that same line from before—it doesn’t mean anything, this is standard practice, it doesn’t mean anything.

It works in calming your breath for a moment, but then he grabs your tit.

You gasp, jolting back while stuttering, “Wha–what are you doing?”

And yet, he keeps his steal gaze just as fixed and unfazed as before, sighing at you as if you were overreacting, before stating rather simply, “Getting a better understanding of your body.” He then reaches toward you again, showing no concern for how you shrink away. “It’s easier to replicate when I know it by hand.”

Again, you let his voice silence you, and again, you closed your eyes and let his hands wander—around your chest, up your neck, down your belly, and then—

“Wait! That can’t be necessary—” you blurt out, this time with your arms and hands shooting forth to distance him.

“Oh, trust me—it is.” Again, he pays you no mind, simply bearing over you with his entitled hands roaming whatever place he so wishes and chooses. Only clicking his tongue at you when you squirm, “Don’t fuss.”

You don’t exactly push him away, though you don’t exactly make his pursuit easier for him—lying there beneath his touches, wiggling and whimpering, though not really protesting either as he feels your slit.

Your fingers curl into his arms, gripping his messy shirt streaked with paint and coal—as his fingers run through your lips, teasing your entrance and your clit. He twists his hand around and presses his thumb down on the pearl after it perks for attention, then enters you with his pointer finger—drawing out wetness before promptly feeding you another.

You bite your lip as they curl and spread within you, testing you out while rubbing firm circles into your clit.

Gingerly, your hips return it, starting to move in tune with his ministrations. Thighs trembling, keeping your eyes squeezed tightly shut as you start to pant—small moans leaving your lips with every breath, feeling it build within you—a small flame at first, nursed until it fills and all but fights for room within you before finally bursting.

“That’s it—that’s the expression,” he purrs—voice much softer than usual—cupping your face with his other hand, holding you steady while taking in those dopey eyes sparkling with pleasure and those parted lips that never dare speak up—eyeing you like he's the proud owner of a prized possession. “Perfect.”

He hums, sounding pleased, then gets off you shortly after, sauntering back to his easel.

“You can get dressed now. I got what I needed,” he states, picking the stick of charcoal up again, ripping the last sketch off for a fresh sheet before starting anew as if nothing had happened.

And you, still lying there, are left just as mute as usual.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Touya, Hawks, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Megumi ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Oikawa, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae, Baro ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Muzan, Sanemi

Wrath is your ex-boyfriend who refuses to get it through his thick skull that the two of you are over.

Any time you talk to another guy, he beats him up—to a fucking pulp, no less. 

He’s always been that way, and still, it wasn’t always like this…

You started dating each other when you were young. He was rough around the edges, and you liked that about him—tattoos from his neck down to his ankles—the type your parents would have a heart attack if you ever brought home.

He was going to be a professional fighter, he’d say—mixed martial arts. He had all the rage and zero technique, but still, he’d land some of the best on their ass all through pure strength of will alone. 

He was near impossible to train, though—always too wired to be able to take any pointers. And that’s why he needed you. You were his reliever. He’d fuck you like it was his last day on earth, and suddenly he’d be able to do anything. Like an enhancement drug, everything would start moving in slow motion, and he could somehow see all the moves of his opponent before they ever made them.

You admit you liked hearing him preach about it. It made you feel important—made you feel as if half the win, or at least some of it, was yours. And when he started raking in the dough as the champion, winning multiple titles across several tournaments, you were more than happy to be his lucky charm and cheer him on from the sidelines.

But then, you had this awful and sudden feeling of being just that—a tool for his success and nothing else. Sure, he’d give you presents—pretty things he thought suited you well—but you hadn’t gone on a date since his career started, nor had you had a proper sit-down dinner together either. He’d stick to his diet regime, be out training at the gym all day, and you’d be home, going about your own business.

And while you were doing that, you’d think—about the nature of your relationship. And what you found is that all it really entails in the end is him demanding a fuck whenever he needed it—before a tournament, before training, before an interview. And then, after coming to that glum conclusion, you can’t help but feel like nothing more than another one of those items he keeps loose in his gym bag.

And those thoughts only got validated when you tried denying him sex for the first time…

You were just curious, really—curious to see what he’d do. If he’d beg, if he’d plead, if he’d say boo, don’t be that way while down on his hands and knees for you.

But of course... he can’t get anything else but angry.

“If you’re not gonna give me the one thing you're useful for, then what the fuck do I keep you around for?” is what he’d said—no, barked. “You think you’re special? If you’re not gonna put out, I might as well go out and find me someone who will.”

He’d fucked off to some other room with a huff and left you standing there. 

And you don’t know, amidst the shell shock and the ache of your heart coming undone... suddenly, you had no idea why you were there or with him or what you were supposed to do—and when you found no answer to any of those questions, it made no sense for you to stay. And so you went to your shared bedroom—or his bedroom, as a matter of fact, which you’d stayed in for the last months—quickly grabbed your things—your things specifically, and not all the other stuff he’d thrown at you—and stuffed it all haphazardly in your bag, then gone out to the entryway to put your shoes on.

That’s when he’d reared his head again with the gall of asking, “Where the fuck are you going?” 

He hadn’t had that same raised tone as before. No, this time it was lowered—frayed—with a touch of urgency and unease as if balancing on the edge of a knife—as if he knew he'd done something wrong and was reaping the consequences and yet still hadn't the balls to simply apologize and correct it.

And so, you hadn’t answered him.

“It’s the middle of the fucking night,” he’d stated then, coming closer, ready to grab your arm with that hint of alarm in his voice increased. “Hey, I asked you fucking a question—”

That’s when you’d twisted around and slapped him. You’d put all your might into it as well, though you doubt it compared to much of what he’d felt in the ring. 

And still, he’d looked at you as if he’d just lost all his titles. 

He hadn’t said anything else after that—just stood there with his mouth agape as you opened the door and slammed it shut behind you. In fact, you don't think he even dared do so much as take a breath.

You’d gone and crashed at a friend's and rethought your life. There was no way you could ever go back, after all—not after what he’d said. Treating you like a stay-at-home whore. Who the fuck does he think he is?

What an asshole—you'd tried convincing yourself as you cried yourself to sleep…

The days and weeks after were nothing if not fucked up and toxic, to say the least. You’d go out to have a fun time and try to forget about him, but he’d always show up out of the blue to ruin everything—being his usual douche self. 

Though… you can’t exactly claim to be any better than him—not after finding yourself in bed with his number-one up-and-coming rival.

Of course, it ends up all over the news—big headlines plastered on every gossip platform pushing your private affairs for all to see—a real media circus if there ever was one.

You end up back in his apartment. To talk, he’d said—a pretense you had a hard time believing in. He’s never been one to talk much. Honestly, you don’t know why you even bothered coming over when he asked. There might even be a chance he’ll kill you. This is how most homicides start, after all.

The two of you sit in silence for a couple of minutes. You look off to the side, waiting for him to speak because fuck knows you have nothing to say. 

Meanwhile, he just stares at you—his big, hulking body leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands braided before his face. It’s the type of posture he’ll have when sitting in the corner of the ring—he’s got that same look in his eyes, too, deadset on you.

It makes you a little nervous, actually—maybe he really does plan on killing you.

“Why’d you do it?” he asks suddenly.

You almost scoff—almost roll your eyes, but you end up simply returning his dead glare. “Is that really what you asked me here for?”

He doesn’t answer that question. He just keeps staring at you.

You huff out a sigh, “I don’t know, maybe I just wondered what it would be like to be fucked like a woman for once and not someone’s toy.” 

You don’t know why you decided to take it there when you both know why you’d done it. What other fucking reason would there be other than to get back at him? It’s a stupid question to begin with, and so you give it a stupid answer in return. And you won’t deny it feels fucking good—seeing him like this. Five o’clock shadow, eyebags, and uncut, disheveled hair. 

He looks like a wreck, and rightfully so. Fuck knows what a mess you’d been before you finally managed to drag yourself out of bed. Funny what the single simple thought of revenge can do for someone so lost.

He scrapes his thumb down his jawline, over his stubble—a deep sigh running through him as he leans back on the couch. Offering no other reaction as he says, “I can sit here and act threatened, but you and I both know he was shit compared to me.”

He throws his arms up against the headrest, chin tipped up. Thinking he can hide it, thinking you can’t see right through him—to how hard he’s fighting to upkeep the poker face. 

He’s forgetting who his opponent is.

“I know you, babe—I know your body. And there's no fucking way some shitstain you just met–”

“His dick was bigger,” you interrupt—face blank because two can play that silly game, and you do it better.

He’s shut up for a moment—you can see a vein pulse, but it’s quickly stifled, and he smirks instead, snickering despite his grit teeth, “Sorry, that must'a hurt given how much you cry with me.”

This time, you don’t refrain from scoffing and rolling your eyes, “That's all you have to say? Thought you were a fighter.”

“You want me to get jealous? Is that it?” he accuses then, starting to crack, throwing your scoff back at you, “Tch—should've fucked somebody important then.”

This time, you skip the eye-roll and flat-out laugh instead, “I'll keep that in mind. Next time, I'll call up your dad-”

That did it—got him out of his seat and everything. “Shut your mouth.” Standing big and hunched, all muscles and fury.

And you react in kind. Glad that you’re finally getting somewhere. “Make me.”

"You're fucking–" He clenched his fist in the air, scrunching his face in frustration, withholding a growl before releasing a heavy sigh instead.

Dropping his arms, shoulders slumping—hanging his head the same way whilst mumbling under his breath, “Fuck this… fuck this entire thing.” 

And just as quickly as he’d sprung to his feet, he flopped down on the couch again. 

“I don't wanna play games…” He looks up at you—now with the look of a starved and beaten dog. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

He reaches out slowly—big hands cradling your thighs, pulling you towards him gently, and you let him—put off by that strange new look in his eyes.

“You can fuck half the world, and I'd still only want you.”

It’s an odd confession. Unexpected coming from him. You’d anticipated more of a fight, not whatever this is. Looking at you with glossy eyes on the verge of tears. Suddenly, you feel kind of mean, struck with this sense of guilt for having reduced him to such a state.

“Don't take the high road. It doesn't suit you,” you declare, though without much bite.

And he just sighs, “Fuck that, we’re even now.” Pulling you even closer still—into his lap—he makes you straddle him. Forehead to forehead without kissing you yet. “So, are you gonna let me fuck you, or are you really gonna make me beg?”

And though you would kind of like to see what he’d look like on his knees, the sight of him like this was good enough proof that he’d learned his lesson despite it not being an apology.

Besides, he'd been all too right when he’d said the other guy couldn’t fuck you like him.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kyotani, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Shido ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ HxH – Uvogin

Sloth is a street urchin.

You volunteer at the homeless shelter and can’t help but feel extra sorry for him. He’s only around your age—so young yet with no future to speak of.

This winter, given it’s going to be an especially harsh one, all volunteers have been asked if they have any spare room they can be so kind as to give to those less fortunate. And though you’re not that well off yourself, you still have an extra room you’ve only been using as storage.

So, unable to look the other way, you decide to clean it out, get a bed, and host him.

You took precautions first, naturally—just to be safe. But, from what you could tell, he’s neither a drug addict nor has any criminal record to speak of. No, he’s just another abandoned kid who'd society had failed.

This is the least you can do to correct its wrongs.

And, of course, he falls in love with you for it. Not only do you give him a place of rest—but you make him warm food, give him fresh clothes, do his laundry, draw his bath, watch movies with him every night, and always ask him if he has everything he needs. You even cut his long, shaggy hair for him and give him luxuries such as face-lotion. 

You’re a saint, too good for a filthy sinner like him, but he’ll never let you know that... No, your pity feels too nice—taking such good care of him—he’s going to leach off of you and your honeycomb heart for the rest of his life if he can help it.

He doesn't look too bad after he cleans up, and after a few more weeks of eating well and getting enough rest—he stops lurching and starts standing up straight, looking lanky and lean with muscle—at which point you can’t deny he’s even a little hot. You know… in that scrappy sort of way.

You feel weird about it, of course—guilty even. He’s a homeless guy you’re housing—you’d be nothing if not downright evil if you took advantage of him. But after a few weeks of settling in, he starts feeling like more of a normal roommate and not a stranger. And with that familiarity, you both lose the distance and become more lax and loose around each other—wearing less, talking casually, not afraid to brush up against each other, and before you even know it, you find yourself folded in half beneath him on the living room couch.

You don’t know what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into—but his cock’s so big he’s pounding the sense right out of you with every thrust.

He’s not even going fast. No, rather slow, actually—taking his time as if savoring it. But that doesn't take away from the pleasure bubbling up inside of you where his strokes hit so heavy, resting deep within, so fulfilling that it all but replaces your better judgment with the sole need to squeeze him with all you've got.

“Mh, you’re pussy’s so nice and warm—I could stay inside you forever.”

You’re so wet it’s ridiculous—like never before—like you’re the one who’s been starved and neglected and not the other way around. Getting your breath all but knocked out of you, getting fucked so utterly full, he’s making you kick your feet and curl your toes in the air, bucking your hips back into him like you’re desperately begging for more.

He’s got your knees hooked over his arms, keeping you neatly pressed under him. “You’re so good to me—so, so sweet, you must be the sweetest girl in the whole entire world. My guardian angel.” 

All you’re able to do is babble and moan in return—misty- and cross-eyed with your dewy face cradled in his hands. 

You just hold onto his wrists while he speaks fondly against your lips, “You saved me when no one else even bothered looking. Let me return the favor—give this pretty pussy all the thanks it deserves.”

When he re-angles and hits you in a different spot, the switch in your lower belly is immediate—making your whole body seize up and shiver, breath shuddering in your throat, followed swiftly by a pulse migrating from your core all throughout your body, tasting oversweet on your tongue enough to make you drool. 

He locks lips with yours, slurping your spit up sloppily and keeping himself fully sleaved as you peak—feeling your wet, gummy walls tighten and flutter, rippling along his length like a rush of kisses. 

Then, right before it fully dies down, he picks up the pace again and rekindles it—because fuck knows he’s well-rested and over-due and the farthest thing from done with you just yet.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo, Yuji, Megumi, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Kuro, Lev, Miya twins, Suna, Tendou ♡ CSM – Denji, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Nagi ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Togame

Gluttony is a five-star chef. 

You start off as a waitress at his restaurant. And yet, he’s the one who developed an appetite—for you and your pleasing smile and that busy-bee swing you have in your hip as you hop around from table to table. 

He licks his lips at the sight of you more than he does the food he makes. He even had the uniforms altered in your image—made the skirts shorter and shirts tighter.

He's utterly shameless, but who can blame him? You’re such a little bite-sized treat—he just has to taste you.

And taste you, he most certainly does. 

For breakfast and for brunch and lunch and dinner and supper, as well as a midnight snack.

“Your pussy juice is my favorite,” he groans from between your legs.

Fat-muscled chef’s arms, tattooed with all types of silly patches, curled tightly around your thighs, keeping you close despite those times you try and push away when it gets to be a little too much—because fuck knows he doesn’t have the same reservations. Nose and tongue and chin deep in your slit, slurping you down while filling you up with his words, “I want to flavor every meal I make with you.”

You keep a hand over your face, kissing your knuckles, sometimes with a bite—whimpering pitifully, “Gross…”

Of course, you can’t help but cringe when he says things like that. He’s your boss, after all, not a porn actor. Still, you don’t say it with much conviction. It’s just that you get so embarrassed you don’t know what else to say.

He chuckles, still with his face buried. “Don’t be childish.” Words muffled as he doubles down on his efforts of sucking on your clit like a piece of candy.

“I’m not,” you whine. “You're just weird.”

He smacks off of you at that, a refreshing sigh leaving him rugged and raspy, a devilish look in his eyes as if he’s about to eat you for real. “I’m a world-renowned chef—are you implying I don’t know my flavors?”

Everything in your gut coils with anticipation, nearly rumbling with need, while he pulls your lower half up and even closer—face glossy with the way he’d gorged himself already—licking his teeth now as he refocuses on your clit alone.

Flattening his tongue on it while he speaks, sounding like some type of beast, “I’ve tasted everything the world has to offer. And I'm telling you, this pretty little thing between your legs is the best there is.”

You can’t stand looking up at him. Beyond embarrassed, you hide your face with both hands. Mumbling out a weak, “Pervert...”

Again, he snickers, shaking his head as if he’s ripping into flesh when he’s really just got his tongue out—straight motorboating your poor pussy.

When done, he drops you onto the bed again, grinning while replying to your insult, “Can’t argue with that,” before promptly kissing and licking up your belly—with fingers replacing his tongue, pumping you on his knuckles, getting you ready. 

He groans when his mouth reaches your chest, lips wrapped around a nipple, “If only these titties had milk. I could feast on you from every position.”

You don’t know if you should giggle or grumble—he’s such a baby—and a spoiled one at that. But really, his fingering is making it difficult to do anything but stammer and try and keep it together, “We talked about this—I’m not taking hormones just to breastfeed you, you weirdo.”

He whines then, “Please—it’s my only wish in the entire world—I need it.”

You struggle to argue, feeling like you’re under siege—an onslaught set out to make you breathless. “Well—” you pant, gritting your teeth and bearing it. “We can’t always get what we want.”

“Oh, I’ll see about that.” He takes it as a challenge, this time really locking his lips around your nipple and suckling—releasing just briefly to say, “I bet if I suck on these babies enough, they’ll give me what I want.”

He keeps his fingers working diligently while at it—used to multitasking—curling and spreading them out within you, pumping you so fast, you barely have the time to beg him to “Stop that—” before you’re already shaking and cumming for what must be the seventh time already.

He laughs breathily, kissing your teat goodbye as he lifts himself up again. Pulling his fingers out of you, he brings them to his lips and blithely sucks them off. 

“You know I can’t stop, dear. I’m so hungry—I’m ravenous.”

You watch him from over the tips of your fingers. So hot and mortified you think you’re soon to pass out. Breathing heavily behind your hands, muttering, “You’re a glutton—that’s what you are.”

Again, he just cheerfully snickers, bowing down to your halfway-hidden face with a smile. “I hardly see how it’s my fault I can’t get enough of you.” 

He spreads your legs again and finds his place between them.

“You’re the one who got me hooked—so you better take responsibility for it.”

♡ BNHA – Kirishima, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Todo ♡ HQ – Bokuto, Ukai ♡ BLLK – Baro, Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke ♡ DS – Doma ♡ HxH – Uvogin ♡ WB – Umemiya, Togame

Lust is your boss. He's the owner of the strip club where you work, your pimp when money’s tight, as well as the porndirector of all your lovely little films.

Yeah, you might as well have a tramp stamp of his name on your ass, the way he practically owns you…

He's around ten years older and has basically taught you all about sex from when you were only a fledgling in the industry. You live at his studio above the club since he keeps all your money in a bank account under his name, calling you his little sugarbaby and telling you you’ll get an allowance and that you can get more if and when you ask him nicely and tell him what it’s for. 

“Don’t be a brat, baby. You know how I hate it when you're a bad girl,” he says when you raise the topic of moving out, treating it as if you’re a child threatening to run away from home.

“I don’t belong to you. Give me what you owe me.”

Honestly, you have no idea where you got the courage. 

But is it courage? Or is it just plain stupidity? Because, though you’re increasingly more terrified as you quickly watch him lose his temper, it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. And so, if you knew this is what was going to happen—why the fuck would you put yourself through it?

Must be madness.

“I give you everything, don't I? Food, clothes, a home,” he chastises, bearing over you while you’re down on scuffed knees, holding your wrist in a bruising grip and your face just as fiercely—nearly tearing the skin off your cheeks with the bite of his nails.

“And still, you have the fucking nerve to act like a goddamn bitch.”

You hiccup on sobs, spluttering out a desperate “Please—I’m sorry–”

"You and your entire slut body belong to me, you understand that?"

"Yes-yes—please—I'm sorry! You're right! I belong to you! I'm sorry!"

That seems to calm him just a bit—at least enough to take the bite away from his voice, now cooing at you in an ugly mocking attempt at sweetness, “Yeah, you do every single little thing I ask. ‘Cause if you’re not gonna behave like a good girl, I have no other choice but to treat you like a bad one.”

He lets your audience be rowdier than usual that night, allowing them to slap and grab, then forces you to have an extra rough shoot afterward—with tighter bondage, more toys, bigger guys making use of you like a piece of meat, smacking and choking you as they find out how many cocks your holes can fit, every last one finishing on your face.

Then, when you’re all done and all used up for the day, he brings you upstairs—home, sweet home—where he treats you to some much-unwanted after-care...

You shiver and shake despite the hot water. Sitting in the bathtub, laying back with your spine against his chest, feeling thin like a sheet of paper, all crumbled up and torn—sniffling and sniveling as the after-shock of the day still ricochets through you like wind through a hollow husk.

“The shoot today was rough, huh?” he drawls, washing you with his own hands. Stroking your poor sore cunt despite how it makes you whimper. “Yeah... was it a little too rough for you, hm?” 

You don’t do anything in return—but your body language says enough on its own, and he allows it to be your answer.

Sighing heavily, he wraps you up with both arms and squeezes you tighter, chin resting atop your head.

“You know… if you’d just be my good girl, I’d give you a good girl to-do list. Let you stay here all day, do some house chores while I’m gone, make love when I get home, hm? Doesn’t that sound better?”

He traces a welted bruise on the inside of your thigh, one you got from the shoot—roughly the shape of a hand, and a dozen more others layered on top of it. It makes you suck in a hiss.

“But if you’re gonna be a bad girl, then this is what you get.” 

He settles into the grove of your neck, purring against your ear. “Are you gonna be my good girl from now on? Hm?”

You bite your lip, breath shuddering while nodding pitifully.

And still, he insists, “Say it so I can hear it.”

The water’s gone cold around you—just like everything else, as you say, “I’ll be a good girl.”

He seems pleased, at least. Nuzzling against your cheek with chin stubble and a smirk, asking, “Yeah? Whose?”

Your voice is small and pathetic, nearly a wince, “Yours.”

He groans then, “That’s right. My good girl.” Lifting his hand from the water, he takes hold of your chin, fingers pressing into those designated sore spots as he angles your face toward him and gives you a heartless kiss before growling against your lips, “And don’t you ever fucking dare forget it again.”

After he’s finished washing you up, he carries you out to bed. It's one you fear much more than the one down in the studio.

Because in this bed, just like every night in this hellhole… he starts teaching every last one of your holes who they belong to.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ BLLK – Reo, Shido, Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke ♡ DS – Doma, Muzan, Sanemi

Envy is your enemy. 

Or, well, no, he’s not your enemy, but you’re most certainly his enemy. 

You’re just not aware of it because of what a ditzy and clueless airhead you are. 

But fuck, he can’t stand you—you and your fake personality, acting all bubbly and sweet, cheering him on, always telling him to do his best—condescending little bitch acting like everyone’s friend—like he doesn’t see through you right to your rotten core. You don’t fool him—he knows you’re as bad as the rest of them, so just quit pretending like you’re better or something.

You’re under the false impression that the two of you are friends. You just think he has a strange sense of humor, but you laugh politely even when you don’t always get the joke.

Well, maybe it’s not so much politeness, but the fact that you have a big fat hopeless crush on him.

It infuriates him. He throws your niceties back in your face as insults, and you just laugh. How low do you think of him? Honestly? How tall is that high horse of yours that you have your head constantly in the clouds?

Poor you… you just think he’s so cool—always saying what he feels like, not a lame people-pleasing goodie-two-shoes such as yourself. You can’t help but follow him around like a lost puppy all day long. You’re always making sure you sit next to him during lectures—heart almost beating out of your chest, holding back from squealing when your prayers are answered, and the two of you are finally paired for a project together. 

It really feels like the universe is on your side, and so you just can’t stop yourself from going the full mile—making chocolates and preparing him a hand-written love letter. You know he’ll think you’re a little silly, that he’ll make fun of you for it—but you can’t expect to get anywhere without putting your heart on the line, can you? For a chance at love, the risk must be worth it!

Yeah, you’re such a hopeless romantic—you feel it as he punches his fist through your ribs when he rips out your poor heart and stomps all over it. 

“I fucking get it already! You’re little miss pretty and popular. Would you quit rubbing it in my face, or do I really have to spell it out for you? I. Don’t. Fucking. Like. You,” he seethes through grit teeth. “Go pick another one of the hundreds dying to be your partner and leave me the fuck alone!”

You shrink where you stand, shocked doe-eyes rapidly welling up like a flood, lips wobbling as you choke on your words, “Oh… okay… I’m sorry… I just… I–”

“You-you-you what?” he barks at your stuttering. “Spit it out already! What the fuck do you want?”

“I just-I-I just always thought you were amazing. So…”

His face contorts, scrunches up in a grimace different from anger, though not without it, as he spits out, “What the fuck are you on about now?”

But his voice is a little diminished now, with confusion usurping the place of his hate, suddenly feeling a little out of sorts because… what did you actually just say?

“I just, I really like you–” you repeat, hanging your head, only barely able to mumble through the tears blocking your throat. “But I guess I’ve just annoyed you all this time—I’m sorry...” 

Only now does he notice you’re trying to hand him something—a flat little box with a pink note attached. 

“This is for you, but I understand if you don’t want it.” Unable to look up, you just stretch your arms out until it gently bumps into him. 

Baffled, he accepts without thinking.

“I’m sorry—I’ll leave you alone from now on.” And then you run off, disappearing with a sob that all but shoots him through the chest.

And slowly bleeding out, he remains standing there, eyes glued to where you'd left—mouthing the word what…

What did you just say? 

Like? Him?

Did he mishear you, or did you just confess? 

No way—that can’t be it, right? 

But what the fuck is this heart-shaped letter, then?

"What the fuck did I just do?"

You look like you’ve been crying your eyes out all night the next day—your usual bubbly personality reduced to a ghost in a shell, walking the hallways like a zombie, slowly and without purpose, eyes on the ground—letting everyone bump into you.

You don't even so much as bat an eye when someone runs straight over you, fully knocking all your books and folders onto the floor. 

You just get on your knees and start recollecting them.

A newfound hate flares up within him at the sight. “Hey, you!" He stomps over. "Watch where the fuck you’re going next time, dipshit.” 

You look up at the sound of his voice—flinching before you notice it’s not directed at you.

No, rather, he’s got a boy up against the lockers, lifted by his collar onto the tip of his toes. Face only a few inches from his, glaring at him harsher than he’d glared at you yesterday.

“Now apologize to the girl before I punch your ugly face in.”

You stare at the altercation with large eyes, only able to blink as the boy who’d bumped into you starts spluttering on the verge of tears, “I–I’m sorry–I didn’t see you! Sorry!”

You don’t answer. Shocked and speechless, you remain on the floor in confusion, asking yourself why’s he doing this? Didn’t he cuss you out yesterday, or was it all a bad dream like you'd hoped?

He throws the boy on his way, then gets on his knees down alongside you—proceeding to help you gather your things.

You only watch on in wordless bewilderment until he starts muttering something under his breath.

“I’m sorry I made you cry yesterday.” He stacks all your things in a neat pile next to you while continuing his apology. “And for being an asshole. You didn’t deserve that.”

He keeps his eyes fixed to the floor where his hands busily roam around until there was nothing more to retrieve.

He then hesitantly looks up at you—eyes flittering—a little too ashamed to hold your gaze as he says, “Your chocolates were really good.”

That’s when your heart starts fluttering again—as if new life was just breathed in and revived it.

He can see it as well—how you light up like a rekindled candle.

“They were?” you gush, shuffling closer on your knees all excitedly—face brighter than the sun on cloudfree summer day.

It blinds him—nearly stunts him, only able to utter a meager, almost shy, “Yeah.”

He then slings his bag in front of him and pulls something out.

A lunchbox. 

“I made you these..." he swallows thickly. "As an apology…”

He’s utterly red—from the tips of his ears to his neck and entire face, even his hands.

“For me?”

“Yeah..." He reaches it over stiffly. “They’re not as good as yours, though...”

You eagerly accept despite his nervousness, popping the lid off where the two of you sit—right there in the middle of the hallway floor, with other students walking around you like water passing two rocks in a stream.

His blush grows ever more intense as you pick one of his crudely made chocolates up, not even examining it before throwing one into your mouth.

It was his first time making anything that required a recipe. And they most certainly did not come out well, but he figured the embarrassment was part of his atonement.

He didn’t actually expect you to try them.

But there you are—lying through your teeth, saying, “I think they’re great!”

He can only scoff out a soft laugh. “Of course you would.” 

Turns out, you really are just a nice person after all. You don’t have the heart to be mean at all, do you? Yeah, you don’t even have it in you to feel any of the ugly things he keeps inside. In fact, he bets you don’t even have the means of knowing such ugly things exist.

That must be what he’s envied about you all this time…

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Shinso ♡ JJK – virgin Sukuna, Megumi ♡ HQ – Tsukishima ♡ BLLK – Rin, Sae ♡ DS – Genya

Greed is your clingy childhood friend. 

He doesn’t want to share you with anyone and gets viscerally jealous each time you hang out with others. It’s as if he feels boils rising beneath his skin, simmering with a violent need to kill anyone and everyone you ever come into contact with—even if it’s just a passerby who accidentally brushes against you.

He can’t stand other people—how they think they can just come along and be your friend when he’s been your friend since you both were in diapers. What? Do they really expect him to share you with them? Just like that? No way. You’re his best friend. They should all go find themselves their own.

Actually, the term best friend doesn’t even really cut it… It’s a little too childish. You’ve both grown out of it. And besides, it never really fully encompassed what the two of you actually are to each other. You’re so much more than just friends, after all. Yeah, what you really are is soulmates. Yeah, that sounds more right. Soulmates.

And the bond between soulmates is like the bond between an addict and their favorite drug. You wouldn’t ask an addict to share his favorite drug, now would you? No. Not unless you’re prepared to either kill or be killed.

But he can’t say he blames them for wanting you, either. Of course, they’d want you—anyone would.

He pities them, actually. And you make it no better for the poor suckers, stringing them all along—acting as if there’s enough of you to go around. Well, there just isn’t. And even if there was, he shouldn't have to share you with anyone.

Yeah, the problem here is you. You don’t get it, do you? You don’t understand that you’re his. 

Well… seems like he’ll just have to teach you once and for all, now, doesn’t it?

“What’s… this?” you mumble groggily once you wake, sluggishly tugging your bound wrists—not yet aware of what they are. Your eyes blow wide once you do—voice turning sharply frantic, “What’s happening?”

“We’re having a play date like we used to.” He comes into view just as the panic sets in—and though his face has all the familiarity to be a sign of comfort, his words evoke no such feeling within you.

“Remember? How we used to play house?" he says. "Granted, we're a little older now… so I thought I’d change it up a bit.”

He stands before the bed you’re currently lying tied down on. But he doesn’t look like himself. No, there’s something very wrong about all of him. Seeming way too at ease for the situation.

“Instead of making mud pies…” he continues. “I'm gonna fuck you and give you a creampie.”

Your heart lurches up into your throat at his words, and you choke. Your clothes from the day have been removed, leaving you naked. You spot them lying on the floor in a heap while you spastically look around for clues as to “What the fuck’s going on? This isn’t funny–”

“Shut up,” he says—his demeanor still as nonchalant as he climbs on top of you and pushes something past your lips, nudging it deep down in your throat.

Feeling it as it scrapes your tongue, you can tell it’s your lace panties, and you gag—shaking your head, trying to dislodge both it and his fingers, but he holds you steady.

“I have things to say. So, be a good friend and listen.”

You start crying then—brows cinched as you look up at him in terror, full-tremoring now while struggling under his weight and the all-too-intimate way he starts touching you.

“I'm glad you’re still a virgin…” he suddenly says, running his hands down your breasts, catching your nipples between his fingers.

You twist in disgust, halfway convinced you’re having some godawful fucked up dream—that this just can’t be happening—but somehow, at the same time, something deep in your gut that’s been lying there for a while ignored by your kind heart doesn't find it completely without warning, having felt how strange he'd been acting as of late—always looking at you a certain way and saying certain concerning things—certain concerning things he’s saying right now, “I’d kill all those little toy friends of yours if you were ever so stupid to let them have it.”

He glares at you—looking every bit angry, and yet you can’t describe it exactly. Something about that look in his eyes makes him seem like a complete stranger to you. Then he cracks a smile, and it makes it all the worse. Bowing down until his forehead presses clean against yours, noses rubbing against each other.

“But I think you knew. Didn’t you? Knew how it wouldn’t be right. Knew it was mine to take.”

He shuffles backward until he’s separating your thighs instead of straddling your waist. And you croak with an especially full-chested sob as his touches travel further down along with him—with savage goosebumps running rampant across your body once he rubs his thumb crassly over your slit.

“You see?” his breath shudders in his throat—thick with something mortifying that’s bound to ruin you forever. “It’s so happy to see me.”

You whine and scramble, trying to force your thighs shut—but he has the upper hand—keeping you spread with his body while two of his fingers slip through your lips and bully themselves inside.

He pumps them in and out with zero regard to how you recoil—only sneering at the way you worm in disgust, “At least your pussy understands where its loyalties lie.”

It’s not long before his ministrations draw wetness, and he pulls them out—inspecting them in the dim light he’s left on. Rubbing the digits together before putting them in his mouth.

You close your eyes with a whimper while listening to the sickening sounds of him sucking them clean.

He puts both hands around your neck next. He doesn't squeeze hard, but your breath stops nonetheless. Eyes stinging with both spent and still-welling tears.

“I’m upset with you,” he states, brushing his lips over your parted ones, still stuffed and silenced with your own underwear. “But I’ll forgive you if you apologize and swear to me that you meant it when you said we’d be friends forever.”

That look in his eyes—you still can’t explain it. Desperate, desolate, deranged, and enraged—something downright sick.

“But since you can’t talk right now, you’ll have to prove it some other way...”

One of the hands disappears, and you hear the following sounds of a zipper being undone, then the rustling of his pants being shoved down.

“Cum on my cock, and I’ll know.”

The room tastes of blood and something rotten as he frees his cock and graces your clit.

“Actions speak louder than words anyway, after all, don’t they? So cum on my cock, and I’ll cum in your pussy, so we can seal our friendship again—just like the time we married each other on the playground.” 

He enters you, and you think you might just die in the mix of horror and grief.

And yet you remain perfectly alive—even as he rips through you and splits both you and your heart apart.

“You can think of this as the honeymoon,” he whispers. “Always and forever, happily ever after, never apart.”

♡ BNHA – Deku ♡ JJK – Gojo, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Tendou ♡ BLLK – Bachira ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Nirei

♡ HEAVENLY VIRTUES ♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[dotalicious]

pt.1: here

cw/tw: 18+, i’m going to test just how bad you want 2 boyfriends that are boyfriends w/each other (not necessarily reader orientated relationship), college!au, a bit of katsuki leaning pov, hurt/comfort (i’m pretty sure), angst (i’m pretty sure), katsuki jerks off twice, pinv, anal (mlm), switch!katsuki, (lowkey power bottom katsuki but that’s just because izuku thinks he’s cute and let’s him do whatever), sub!fem!(a little bratty)reader, softdom!izuku, dacryphilia, reader has a pussy and boobs a/n: ~5.7k words for bisexual men ain't no way… anyways, i’m glad everyone liked pt. 1! i hope pt. 2 is just as good >_< i’m worried it’s not the direction people were expecting but who is holding the pen?! let me know if i missed any warnings

bang bang bang!

“jesus fuck— ” katuski groans to himself, the fisting of his cock interrupted by his roommate's knocking at his bedroom door. hastily, he pulls up his sweats, tossing his phone onto his bed as he gets up from it. the image of you, naked and ruined on izuku's bedsheets, glows on the screen, illuminating the dark room.

“what?” he grits out, knuckles white from his grip on the doorknob, the annoyance obvious in his glare.

“smells sweet in there,” eijirou comments dryly on the burnt caramel scent.

“you got something to fucking say or what?”

“there’s a party at denki’s frat tonight.”

“and i care because…?”

“‘cause you need pussy, bro.”

katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose at that. “i get it.”

“i haven’t seen it come around in a while.”

“she’s busy,” your best friend says defensively, fully aware of who he’s referring to, the words fooling barely even himself. “why are you in my damn business for?”

“it’s called caring about the well-being of your friends,” ejiriou explains with his signature charm. “you’ve just seemed… tense this week, that’s all. i’m thinking that getting some might change that.”

more or less, he was right.

yet, the blond scoffs. “bullshit. sounds like you just need a dd.”

“maybe,” ejirou shrugs, not denying the accusation. “but seriously— all you do is work out, school, your internship — there’s more to life than that, man.”

“and the ‘more,’ is pussy?”

“what else?”

katuski grunts. “i’ll think about it.”

“after you finish cranking your shit?”

“fucker— you want me to come or what?”

“oh you’ll be coming, alright.”

with the clench of his jaw, katsuki promptly slams the door on eijirou, whose cackles go unappreciated. he settles back on his bed, picking up his phone as he does so. thanks to his wonderful roommate, he was soft now, and he wasn’t getting back into the mood any time soon, even as he looked over the picture of you that izuku had sent him.

in the first place, he wasn’t really one to masteurbate. it was just that, one wandering thought led to another and before he knew it, he found himself with his hand down his pants and the photo pulled up. in his defense, it was a pretty good one. in it, your body was glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, your hair was messy, makeup smeared, all with a creampie spilling out you— it was a sight that he was familiar with. yet, you were in a room that wasn’t his. instead, you were in izuku’s apartment bedroom, a place katsuki knew better than he’d ever like to admit. being left to only imagine how things had unfolded in there made katsuki’s mind spiral into a mix of jealousy and desire. it didn’t help that you’d been avoiding him these past few days.

you flaked on sunday. knowing you, you probably got embarrassed over the idea of a hook up. he recalls a rant you had where you described the silent drive to a man’s house for sex as one of the most dreadful things ever. furthermore, it wouldn’t have just been any man, but two, with one of them being midoriya izuku, who you’ve hated for years. but maybe it was more than that.

maybe you were pissed off at katsuki. you hadn’t been answering his calls. your texts back to him were the same three recycled excuses: “on patrol” “studying :(” “tired” — but it’s not like he didn’t get it. if your best friend fucked your shared rival and didn’t tell you, you’d be pissed to say the least. well, you did do that but he did it first.

after a contemplative shower, scarred knuckles rasp against the doorframe of eijiriou’s bedroom, a sound the redhead immediately perked up at.

“we going or what?” katsuki asks, expectantly. eijiriou lets out a whoop, his hands gripping onto katsuki’s shoulders in camaraderie as they make their way out of their house.

throughout the drive to the frat house, katsuki was unusually stiff behind the wheel. eijirou, hanta, and mina, the latter two who were picked up along the way, chatted amongst themselves, creating background noise for his thoughts. it wasn't until mina mentioned your name that he actually tuned into the conversation.

“she’s going?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“yeah, with momo and some other girls. they’re gonna meet us at the door so you guys don’t have to pay full price. you didn’t know?” asks mina.

hanta, with that lazy smile of his, snickers. “katsuki and his girl haven’t been talking.”

“she’s not ‘my girl,” katsuki deflects, gruff and sharp. “she’s been busy.”

“too busy to text you that’s she coming out tonight? man, these girls ain’t shit,” hanta laughs, already preparing for the smack against his arm from mina.

katsuki attempted to act unbothered by hanta's teasing, yet one could easily tell by his grip on the steering wheel that he was peeved, to say the least. in an effort to console his friend, eijirou patted katsuki’s shoulder, only for it to be promptly shrugged off.

by the time the four of them had finally pulled up to the party, katsuki more or less had mentally prepared himself to see you. hands in his pockets, he trailed a few steps behind mina, eijirou, and hanta as they made their way to denki's frat house. eventually, they caught up with you and momo amongst the group of girls she had organized in order to take advantage of the frat’s gender ratio discount.

with a brush of his arm against your shoulder, katsuki caught your attention. “hey,” he softly spoke, as he always did with you.

“hi.”

“didn’t think you like coming to these things.”

you shrugged, a little sheepishly, your gaze avoiding his. “momo begged me.”

“hm,” was all he replied, the simplicity of it making you bite the inside of your cheek. as you reached for your wallet to pay the $5 entry fee, he quickly waved you off, already pulling out his own money.

“i got it,” he said, eyes briefly meeting yours.

once inside, the people the two of you came with separately, began to disperse. you tried to slip away with momo, but his hand shot out to yours, gentle in its grasp.

“hey, wait— can we talk?”

the question hung in the air. “now?” you asked back, a hint of avoidance in your voice that he didn't sit well with him.

“yes, now. you’ve been avoiding me all week.” unlike you, who tended to shy away from confrontation, katsuki had no trouble with facing it head-on. you were like puzzle pieces in that way, sometimes making up for what the other lacked.

upon seeing your (hesitant) nod, katsuki swiftly dragged you through the crowd of partygoers, making his way to the patio in the backyard. the two of you settled on an outdoor sofa, but not without keeping a rather awkward distance — one that was much too far apart for two people who had seen the other naked multiple times throughout their life; from shared childhood baths to more intimate moments as adults, there was a comfortability your relationship demanded, yet it was nowhere to be seen tonight.

and despite his initial urgency to speak to you, once the moment was here, it was actually pretty quiet. at least for a while. your eyes drifted towards the shoes you picked out for tonight, finding them the most interesting thing ever as you waited for him to break the silence.

“are you mad?” he finally asks, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it before, yet the sound of it slices through the air.

mad? is that the right word for it? mad about what, exactly? mad that katsuki has liked izuku all this time? being mad about that would mean you’d have to face your own feelings for him, wouldn’t it? or were you mad that izuku went to katsuki first? that seemed a bit closer to the truth— you’ve always hated being second choice. so, maybe that was it: you were mad about being left out. but then, what did either of these men owe you? you and katsuki have always been close, sure, but it’s not like you were ever together. and with izuku, you hadn’t even spoken to him for years, not after everything that you did to him.

you sigh, eyes distant, and lost in thought. “i don’t know what i am.”

another moment of silence passes. you speak up this time, breaking it with a question that tumbles out of you.

“when were you gonna tell me?”

“never,” katsuki answers honestly, head turning to the side away from you.

“seriously?”

“would you have?” he shoots back, your following lack of a response speaking for itself.

while his honesty should make it hard to be angry, for some reason, it cuts you deep instead. he really wouldn't have told you? he was fine keeping a secret like that? from you? didn't... whatever it was between you two mean anything? didn't you mean anything? you push yourself up from your seat, the weight in the air pressing down too heavily to remain sitting. a bitterness settles in your jaw as you realize you can’t face any possible truths waiting for you tonight.

“where are you going?” he asks, trying to understand the look on your face.

“i don’t know.” you lie, simply making an excuse. “i heard todoroki senpai was going to be here. i was thinking of talking to him.”

“senpai?” he repeats, confused as he assumes you’re talking about shoto for a second. then, he realizes you’re talking about touya, who you had a little crush on for years. “what? no, hey, we’re talking here.”

“we can talk another time,” you say dismissively.

“but we’re talking right now— hey!” he calls after you, exasperated as you march across the backyard towards the door.

“what’s there to talk about?” you scoff, throwing up your hands. although you try to feign indifference, your hurt wouldn’t go unmissed by him. "you said you weren’t ever gonna tell me — because it doesn't matter — so, that’s that. you fucked him, i fucked him. we're good.”

katsuki says nothing for a moment, taken aback by your words. as he watches you walk away, he make sure to blurt out that, “the only todoroki you should be talking to is that split-dye motherfucker, by the way!”

when you don’t respond to him, his leg bounces impatiently before he lets out a groan of frustration and follows you back inside.

as you weave through the crowd, to any onlookers, the sight of katsuki close behind made it seem like the two of you were having a lover’s quarrel, an irony that was not lost upon you. you bump into people without meaning to, murmuring apologies, while katsuki keeps pressing the subject.

“how do you even expect me to bring something up like that?”

“kacchan, just quit it, it’s okay— ”

“no, seriously,” he cuts you off, “why exactly do i owe you that information?”

“why do you owe me?” you ask, almost caught off guard by how fast your own head whips around to glare up at him. “you have some— ! ugh…!” the words die on your tongue as your heart can’t yet bring yourself to address the nature of your relationship. you turn back and keep walking, now in the kitchen, intending to get a drink.

“no, say it— you’ve been ignoring me all week so it must be fucking important to you — why does it matter who i fuck when you go around doing whatever?”

“it matters because it was him,” you spit out like venom.

with your head turned around again to look back at katsuki, you weren't paying attention to where you’re going— and your face slams into the, admittedly, broad muscular back of a man.

“oh my gosh, i'm so sorry—” you begin, the splash of his spilled cold drink startling you both.

“haha, it's okay—"

“ugh, katsuki, see what you made me do?”

“me? you don't know how to use your own fucking legs anymore?”

on autopilot, you grab a handful of paper towels from the counter, moving quickly to stop the spill from soaking into both your clothes and the stranger’s. as you dab away at his shirt, the sound of his initial good-natured laugh during the collision slowly registers in your mind, and before you even look up, you already know who you bumped into. for izuku, the realization comes at the mention of katsuki’s name — which also gave a good idea of who’d not be too far behind. katsuki, of course, had been too focused on you to notice at first, but he reaches the same conclusion soon enough.

upon seeing the scene of you and katsuki bickering, izuku lets out a small chuckle. “funny seeing you two here…”

“oh, jesus fucking christ,” katsuki mutters, already over it, taking soggy paper towels from your hands to help toss them out.

“he’s not in a good mood, is he?” izuku asks, laughing some more.

“he’s never in a good mood,” you scoff, taking a jab at the blond through alluding to public misconceptions.

misconceptions from his youth — mind you — that only serve to piss the hell out of him till this very day. still, he can’t help but bite. “yeah?" he questions your audacity, “who’s fault is that?”

you roll your eyes. denki, overhearing the commotion, and ever the responsible fraternity president, quickly guides the three of you into the spare bedroom that acted as storage (and definitely was not for frat hookups…). inside, there was a drawer filled with frat memorabilia — shirts, shorts, sweatpants, and even socks — all in many different sizes. when you found a shirt your size, you attempt to go change, but not without telling katsuki to close the door “if he was going to follow you around,” effectively trapping you all in the room with each other. he plops himself down on the bed, fully intending to continue your prior conversation.

“can you turn around?” you boss him further, your hands thumbing the hem of your shirt.

“nothing i haven’t seen before,” he rolls his eyes, but obliges, raising his hands to cover his vision out of respect.

“well, i don’t want you to see,” you huff, pulling your damp top over your head.

unappreciated laughter slips from the corner of the room. “guess you do pull an attitude with him…” izuku muses quietly, still rummaging for his shirt size.

you glare at him over your shoulder. “can you shut... up... ” your words trailing off as your eyes catch the faded scratch marks running up and down his back— your handiwork. heat rushes to your face, and though he can't see your reaction, upon hearing the sudden silence, katsuki laughs under his breath, already guessing what you’ve seen.

“damn. he really got you whipped," katsuki comments.

“oh," you scowl, "like he didn’t have you first. took you, like what, like a minute to respond to his text?”

the bitterness in your tone does not go unnoticed by him, but as the texted photo flashes through his mind, katsuki stops his retort, going quiet as a blush crept onto his face. “he doesn’t,” he mutters.

izuku simply raises an eyebrow at that, yet he chooses not to say anything. you however, catch his expression out of the corner of your eye, quick to bring him into the argument. “midoriya, what do you think?” after finally finding a shirt that he liked and would fit well, izuku offers you a shrug before putting it on. “could've fooled me,” he says.

maybe it was just the week he had, but izuku’s words rub katsuki the wrong way. he shoots up to his feet, palms threatening to crackle with heat as frustration and embarrassment flared up inside him. “don't try to make it sound like i'm obsessed with you, you asshole.”

you swiftly try to stand in between them, feeling the obligation to stop things from escalating. all it really ends up doing is getting you caged between the two men.

“well, i didn't say that,” izuku counters, tone calm yet snarky, “i'm just saying... you sort of kept me to yourself for while, while keeping her” — he motions downwards to you — “away from me.”

if it was izuku’s intention to make you jealous, he was doing a good job— his words were prying open the wounds you’d been carefully trying to ignore all week. “i was protecting her from you,” katsuki snaps, keeping eye level with the other man.

“protecting her? she’s a grown woman; you were just scared that she'd like me more than you,” izuku replies, his gaze steady.

“you are so full of shit—”

"guys," you attempt to chime in.

"do you know how she was in my bed? how desperate she was for me to touch her? be inside her?" izuku asks, leaning just slightly forward, his words deliberate.

katsuki's jaw tenses, fingers twitching like the gathering nitroglycerin in his palms were ready to spark at any moment. “you shut your god damn mout—”

“guys!” you shout, much louder this time, your exhaustion from this lifetime of tangled feelings and emotions finally spilling out. katsuki is first to soften at the sight of your expression, instinctively moving to console you, while izuku stands there hesitantly, feeling like an outsider to you and katsuki's dynamic once more.

before you can even stop them, the tears spill down your cheeks. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry— i’m just so sick of… all of this! i hate this feeling in my chest that i get when i think about you guys without me, or, or when i think about myself only being with kacchan— but then i’m thinking about izu too, and i treat,” — sniffle — “treated you so bad and…”

the words unravel, dissolving into hiccups. shame, jealousy, embarrassment, guilt, and regret all crash down at once, heavy and choking in its grip around your throat. katsuki’s eyes meets izuku’s over your trembling form; a silent exchange passes between them before the former nods towards the bed and they move to sit on the edge with you to help calm you down.

a silence settles over the room. katsuki's rough, calloused hand slides gently through your hair, an unspoken attempt to soothe you. the two of them wait, gathering their thoughts, while giving you the space to breathe and recollect yourself.

after a while has passed, izuku speaks. he exhales, long and weary, carefully considering his words. “i spent a lot of time resenting you guys," he admits, voice low, eyes cast at his fidgeting hands, “it hurt a lot. seeing you two with each other…. being treated like shit for no reason. i wanted to hurt you guys like the way i was hurt. hurting. but… um, ah...”

he pauses, the air trembling with what he can't quite say. “that's not really what i wanted...i...”

as his words falter, your gaze lifts to izuku’s face. the silence hums with the words he’s been too afraid to speak aloud. i just wanted you both. you feel it, though, his unspoken confession, pulsing in the air between all three of you. the realization leaves you dizzy, breath caught somewhere in your throat.

“me too,” you whisper.

you and izuku both turn towards katsuki, waiting — hoping — for him to say the same.

“what?” he asks, blinking, caught off guard by your expectant eyes. “i’m… not good with words.”

if his honesty wasn’t so palpable, it would’ve seemed like an excuse. it was true though— katsuki was always one to show with actions, his presence, his hands. you take a small breath, deciding to bridge the silence. “do you… feel the same…?”

he looks at you, his gaze lingering on your tear-streaked cheeks, before turning away, voice dropping to a rough but quiet murmur. “…yeah.”

the tension that once pressed against your chest eases, and the silence that follows feels different— brimming not with uncertainty, but with something gentler.

“what do we do now?” you ask, wondering about your three’s relationship.

“…why don’t we go out for boba tomorrow?” izuku suggests after a pause, a half-smile tugging at his lips.

“are you paying?”

katsuki's question gets him a look. “that’s what you care about?”

“you’re the number one collegiate hero,” katsuki grumbles. “you telling me you don’t have money?”

you smack the back of your hand against katsuki’s chest. “you’re number two— you should have your own money!”

the three of you break into laughter, the sound light and easy, washing away the heaviness that had lingered in the room. for the first time in a long while, things just felt... right.

“we should get out of here,” izuku says at last, standing and stretching.

with a cough, katsuki replies, “give me a minute. i’ll be out.”

as you and izuku start heading towards the door, you pause in your movements, turning back to katsuki with curiosity. izuku, seemingly quicker to put the pieces together, lets out a low and knowing laugh.

confused, you glance at katsuki and notice him trying to hide the obvious tent forming in his jeans. “wh… how?” you ask, eyes squinting in disbelief.

“you were crying,” he mutters bluntly, face becoming pink with embarrassment.

“…what?”

izuku rests his hand lightly on the small of your back, leaning in close as he whispers loudly, all to tease katsuki. “he likes seeing pretty girls cry.”

“fuck off,” katsuki scoffs. “are you guys gonna leave or what?”

“we can’t stay to watch?”

he shifts in his seat, already not liking izuku’s scheming. “no.”

“why not?” izuku tilts his head, a sly smile spreading across his face. “we’ve already seen it before.”

“i don’t need a fucking peanut gallery while i’m doing my shit.”

“i’d like to think of us as more of a cheer section. plus she wants to.” izuku's hand subtly motions toward the clench of your thighs. katsuki’s eyes follow without hesitation.

“what? n-no i— ” you start, face flushing, but your protest is cut off as izuku continues speaking.

“you also didn’t even say sorry for how you treated us all these years,” he reminds katsuki with a pout. “don’t you think you could at least show it?”

a quiet, scoffing exhale escapes katsuki, before he fixes his gaze on you, speaking directly. “do you want that?”

the words get stuck in your throat, your head spinning at the suggestion. after a moment of hesitation, you eventually nod.

“tch. fine. just sit over there,” he gestures to the floor in front of him, “and don’t talk. or touch.”

izuku snickers, whispering to you as the two of you sit on the carpeted floor. “see? bossy...”

“the fuck did i say about talking?”

izuku simply hums in response. the two of you watch as katsuki fumbles with his pants, before he eventually takes out his dick. it was long and pretty, with a slight downward curve due to its considerable weight, and a tuft of blond hair framing its base, all with a red angry tip adorning the top of his shaft.

katsuki extends his hand towards you, palm up. “spit,” he instructs you, his voice almost like a sigh. you comply, letting a glob of saliva fall into his waiting palm. with that, he wraps his now slick fingers around his length, beginning to stroke himself.

your breath hitches as you watch each slow pump of katsuki’s hand. in your focus, you nearly jump when you feel izuku’s warm palm come to rest on your thigh, slowly creeping up your skirt. his lips ghost over the shell of your ear as you keep watching katsuki’s movements.

“he’s pretty, huh?” izuku murmurs softly, tracing circles into your skin with his fingers. “yeah,” you manage to croak out. a shiver runs up your spine as you feel izuku’s teeth graze against your earlobe, smiling at your response. “y’know, you’re pretty too, when you have that look on your face...”

“the hell you saying to her?” katsuki asks, his curiosity piqued as he can’t quite catch what izuku was whispering to you. his breathing had become a bit more noticeable — unsteady — as he found a rhythm. izuku’s gaze lazily drifts over to katsuki’s flushed and sweat-dappled form, offering only a nonchalant shrug that would serve to get the other man more worked up. “you said don’t talk to you. you didn’t say we couldn’t talk to each other.”

“you’re doing a lot more than just talking,” katsuki scoffs.

“you didn’t say we couldn’t do that either. she seems like she wants to do a lot more than just talking,” izuku instigates, knowing exactly what he’s doing, his other hand now resting on your hip.

katsuki takes the bait, sucking in his teeth at izuku’s provocation. his eyes shift to you, mumbling your name to get your attention. “lift up your shirt,” he tells you, trying to act like it was his own idea.

your breath was fluttery as your thumbs hook into the hem of your shirt, flipping it up to reveal your lacy bra underneath.

“fuck,” katsuki groans at the sight, continuing to move his hand up and down his shaft. “were you really planning on talking to that todoroki scumbag?”

“no,” you lie, shaking your head. it doesn’t fool katsuki at all, able to see right through you. his movements slow, frustration clouding his mind. “bullshit. man— get on this damn bed,” he commands.

you found yourself trembling as you rose from the floor, moving to sit on the bed beside katsuki. izuku stood as well, getting up with you, and sitting to left of you— therefore positioning you between the two of them.

“take off your clothes— damn, do i have to spell everything out for you guys?” katsuki asks, exasperated and impatient. you fumble with your clothes, hearing a sound of amusement leave izuku’s lips, as he does the same with his own.

once you were all stripped of your clothes, katsuki drank in the sight of the two of you, eyes roaming hungrily over every curve and contour. he swallowed hard, thinking of how to proceed.

“need help?” izuku speaks up, noticing the other man’s hesitation.

“no, fuck— do i look like a virgin?” katsuki retorts, annoyed. he turns his focus to you, pulling you into his lap, his bare chest against your back.

a laugh escapes izuku. “all i’m saying is that, for the past five minutes, she’s been looking like she wants a kiss and you haven’t even delivered.”

you shiver as katsuki’s hand trails down your stomach, before dipping into the heat between your thighs. “you kiss her then. can kiss her all the damn much you want,” he scoffs, deeming the sight of your pussy fluttering around his teasing fingers as more important.

izuku places a finger under your chin, which directs your attention to his face, distracting you from the plunge of katsuki’s fingers into your entrance. “i just didn’t want to make you mad,” izuku explains to him, tone infuriatingly teasing, not yet talking to you.

“only way you’re gonna make me mad is if you keep doing more talking and less fucking.”

“is that right?”

“yeah. you can do whatever the fuck you want as long as you shut up.”

the smile on izuku's face seems almost carved into it at this point. at last, his gaze locks onto you as his hands come up to cradle your face, and he presses his plush lips against yours. between gentle kisses, he snickers again, whispering against your lips. “you were right— he is mean.”

“kacchan doesn’t kiss,” you explain on his behalf, eyes beginning to gloss over as the kisses become more open-mouthed.

“yeah— he only likes doing that when he’s about to cum, huh?”

“tch."

it's not until your lips begin to bruise that izuku decides to pull away, giving you a chance to breathe. “i notice that you’re a lot nicer though, now that he’s here,” he comments, before trailing kisses down your neck.

“she’s a bitch to me too,” katsuki cuts in, “if that’s what you’re talking about. she’s only playing nice cause she’s getting dick.”

your brow furrow at katuski's words, deciding to be mouthy. “n-not getting much of it…”

“yeah? i was being nice and stretching you out. didn’t know you were an impatient whore," katsuki grumbles, before looking at izuku to boss him around. “go lay down.”

with a soft chuckle, izuku does as katsuki commands, dick flopping against izuku’s abs as he lounged there in wait. katsuki slips his fingers out from you, before leaning off the bed to fish out a condom from his discarded pants on the floor. he throws the wrapper on to izuku's chest, expecting the other man to promptly put it on. after all, katsuki didn’t like cleaning cum out of his own ass.

with raised eyebrow (that is unappreciated by katsuki), izuku asks, “you cleaned?”

katsuki doesn’t repond to him right away, occupied with motioning for you to move to the side. “yeah.”

once the latex is rolled down izuku's length, you watch as katsuki sinks himself onto izuku, a low groan ripped from his throat as he takes izuku to the hilt.

“sh-shit!— ” izuku bucks involuntarily, biting his lower lip as he is caught off guard by the sudden tight heat engulfing him. “—you did more than just clean…”

katsuki ignores him, turning his head towards you, panting as he wordlessly directs you to position yourself atop izuku. as you straddle the man’s broad chest, izuku’s rough hands instinctively grip your hips to steady you. you then look over your shoulder, watching as katsuki shifts to press himself against your entrance, letting out a gasp — oh — as you feel that familiar stretch within your core.

“jesus ch-christ,” katsuki grunts through clenched teeth, giving himself a moment to adjust to the dual pleasure of being stretched out all the while feeling the velvetiness of your walls. slowly, he begins to rock, taking it upon himself to do the movement for the three of you. with every thrust from katsuki into you, you can feel your clit rub against izuku’s abs, which tears moan after moan from you.

dark green eyes meet yours as izuku has to tilt his head upwards to look at you, a breathless smile playing across his lips as he drinks in the sight of your flushed face contorted in ecstasy.“damn, that good?” he asks, before taking one of your hanging breasts into his mouth, lapping and sucking at the flesh.

you can’t help but let out an embarrassing sounding squeal at the sensation, one that makes both men chuckle. izuku’s eyes flick up to your face, still expecting an answer to his question. “it’s good…” you struggle to respond. at that, izuku manages to snake his hand around the globes of your ass, in between the space where you and katuski’s bodies meet, in order for his index finger to prod at your asshole. instinctively your pussy clenches, forcing out a hiss from katsuki into your ear. “you ever put anything in here?” izuku asks, tentatively tracing the rim of your tight ring of muscle.

you shake your head, face flushing at the idea, to which he clicks his tongue, almost disappointed by that information. “that’s too bad,” he mumbles. “think you would like the feeling of both of us at the same time, but we’ll just save that for another day.”

to your surprise, izuku’s hands then guide your hips to push back against katsuki, taking the blond even deeper, and the new angle creates a chain of pleasure: you gasp as katsuki bullies that spongy spot inside you, your walls fluttering and squeezing around him, which makes him grind harder against izuku below, who then bucks sharply upwards, the cycle then repeating. each movement triggers a response that intensifies the pleasure for all three of you, the sounds in the room eventually becoming a cacophony of hedonism.

somehow through your haze, you can hear katsuki whimper against the nape of your neck, muttering, “f-fuck— shit! gonna, fuck… i’m close, baby…” on cue, you turn your head to kiss him, his mouth on yours like he was planning on devouring you whole. it’s sloppy, teeth clashing as he desperately sucks on your tongue— you don’t register izuku’s groan underneath you as he cums at the sight of you two. katsuki, on the other hand, laughs breathlessly against your lips, feeling a sudden warmth inside his walls. he picks up the pace, knowing that izuku will be too sensitive to carry on for much longer. his hand reaches down to your clit, rubbing furious circles, and providing you with the much needed stimulation to finally cum, your release triggering his own.

you slide katsuki out of you and off of izuku, collapsing beside the latter, your thighs twitching from your climax. kastuki mirrors your actions, getting off izuku, thus revealing the bulging used condom sheathing izuku's dick. kastuki does the other man a favor, sliding off the filled rubber, and knotting it securely, before he tosses it onto izuku's heaving chest. “gross,” katsuki mumbles, as he goes to lay face down in between your breasts. izuku simply lets the balloon stay there, too tired to clean up at the moment. the three of you cling onto each other in a cuddle, sweaty skin sticking to sweaty skin, listening to the party music die down.

but then, the sound of katsuki’s phone ringing cuts through the moment, to which he picks it up with a gruff, “what?”

“katsukiii…” eijirou’s voice slurs on the other end of the phone. “dude… should i get cross faded with this vampire looking chick...?”

in a flurry, you watch as katuski almost trips over himself to find his clothes from the floor and put them back on. “shit, fuck, i told kirishima i’d dd for him— ” once fully clothed, before leaving, he lingers at the door, taking in the sight of the two of you lying tangled on the bed and a softness blooms in his chest as he realizes that he loves you guys. he doesn’t say it out loud. not right now. not yet. instead, he offers an awkward, “bye.”

you and izuku simply roll your eyes at him, knowing how he is. “gross,’ he says,” izuku quotes katsuki’s words as he picks up the filled condom from his chest with a pinch of his fingers and places it on the nearby nightstand. “it's 'gross,’ and he’s swallowed my cum before.” you laugh softly against izuku’s chest at that, a glowy light feeling spreading throughout your body. his hand settles itself on your hip, rubbing it gently as his gaze searches yours. “do you need a ride back to your place tonight?”

“a ride would be nice,” you reply, leaning up to give him a peck on the lips.

he returns it with a smile. “perfect. i can even give you a nice ride when we get there.”

tag you're it! list: @thatonegirl412 @msbyswife a/n: yea i think i will do a small little hc/explanation of how i characterize these guys, both in these fics and in my Mind Palace. also i realize reader doesn’t talk too much during the smut scene and that’s because. i based it off how i’d react #selfindulgent #ishutupduringsex (but also, she just cried and she’s emotionally tired entering the sex)

[capricornluna-deactivated201810]

this blog hates donald trump

[pearlmarley]

Look how many people hate him. I’m pretty damn happy about that 😁😁😁😁😁😁

[aggressivetapdancing]

I’ve never reblogged something so fast

[parappa-raps]

This blog hates, donald trump!

[probablyaskeleton]

Charlie Kirk was in support of twelve year olds watching public executions, said that if his hypothetical ten year old daughter was raped, he would force her to carry the baby, said empathy was "a made up new-age term that does a lot of damage", and said that gun deaths were the cost of the second amendment.

Men like Charlie Kirk are the reason a third of my state's obstetricians left. Men like Charlie Kirk are why maternal deaths have risen 33% in Texas.

Men like Charlie Kirk killed Josseli Barnica and Neveah Crain, and thousands of others I don't know the names of.

Just because you can't see the blood on their hands doesn't mean it's not there.

[overclockedopossum]

Damn, swifties don't fuck around

[animentality]

you can call me an asshole, but... a pro gun nut telling someone he's debating to "prove me wrong" about gun rights and immediately getting shot in the neck, bleeding out, and dying...

uh.

god has a wicked sense of humor.

[animentality]

I'm sorry, the charlie kirk situation just keeps getting funnier.

- gun nut insists 6 year olds getting shot in elementary school are a necessary sacrifice so that we can all have the 2nd amendment *gets shot at a school

- gun nut literally advocated for public executions to make kids stronger *gets shot in public in front of a bunch of students

- gun nut was an open racist, who constantly tried to incite race wars *got shot by a white guy in the whitest state in america

- gun nut insists empathy is fake *no empathy for him online, except from the same people who gleefully mock the deaths of trans people and Democrat politicians and anyone they don't like on a daily basis

- GUN. NUT. *gets shot and killed instantly by a gun.

[jolenegifs]

MEGAN for KATSEYE, Gap 'Better in Denim'

[yourdecayedfaith]

In my dream, she got me pregnant three times, leaving me alone to pay child support for our children, and I went to her house, making a ruckus, breaking things, she pulled me by the arm, took me to a corner and got me pregnant a fourth time

[centralization0]

oh mighty audio lord, the domme people have been pleading for ✨ overstimulated vocal bang chan ✨

omg yall stream burnin tires

[infectiouspiss]

kids deserve so much more respect and it turns out that saying that is a great way to locate the horrible people in any community <3

[infectiouspiss]

you'll say something as simple as "no child deserves to be hit" and people will crawl out of the woodwork to explain why they should be allowed to beat a 6 year old for spilling some water

[infectiouspiss]

you'll say "i think it's weird that adults literally have control over when children are allowed to use the bathroom" and up pops a teacher to say that when they're not shouting at the kids they teach, they're trying to stop them from hiding in the bathrooms

you'll say "i think children shouldn't be forced to eat food they hate" and here comes someone who feeds their kids plain rice and boiled chicken (while eating a nicely seasoned stirfry) claiming that it's okay actually and kids shouldn't be allowed to taste things

you'll say "i think kids should have bodily autonomy" and in comes someone who pierced their babies ears before it was even 24 hours old, frothing at the mouth because their kid wanted a haircut and thats somehow an insult

[infectiouspiss]

children are an oppressed class and everyone should be looking back at their own childhoods and making sure they don't ever make a child feel the same way they felt.