Hiiii baby! I’m loving the new works&theme especially cabo and meanie! I was wondering if you could do a birthday fic with Nfl!Ony since it’s my birthday today! - 🧸
OFF SEASON
𐙚!!── ony and his fiancée!
⤷ ❝ {a/n: ofcccc my love & i hope you have the happiest birthday today! nfl! ony is a legendary pull so why not bring him back cause ur birthday wish is my command! 😩} ¡! ❞
⤷ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈 / 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
"cheers!"
you and the girls scream as you down the fifth, sixth, or seventh shot tonight? you were keeping count until you believe around your third one. the numbers blurred together, mixing with the bass vibrating through the floor and the neon pink lights reflecting off everyone's faces.
the shot glasses hit the table with a collective clatter and your cousin was already reaching for the bottle for the next round.
"girl, slow down," your sister laughed while grabbing her arm. "we got all night."
"it's her birthday!" your cousin gestured wildly at you while almost knocking over the bottle. "we can do what we want!"
"damn right we can," you slurred while holding up your empty glass like a trophy.
the section ony had rented was huge, it was the entire upper level of the hottest spot in the city; a place that was equal parts restaurant and club, with velvet booths and marble tables. string lights and gold lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting everything in a honeyed glow. the dj was tucked in the corner, spinning a mix of afrobeats and female rap that made your hips move whether you wanted them to or not.
and the food….god, the food.
before the shots started, you'd eaten like a literal queen; oysters on a bed of ice, truffle pasta that cost more than your first car, a charcuterie board the size of your torso, and mini sliders that you'd demolished in three bites. ony had pre ordered everything and the waiters kept bringing out plates you didn't even remember asking for.
but that was hours ago, now it was just bottles on the table, ice melting in buckets, and the faint smell of hookah smoke curling toward the ceiling.
you leaned back against the velvet couch, your light pink mini dress shifting with you as the gold chain across your bare back is cool against your skin. your curls were wild now from hours of dancing and the humidity had them expanding into a cloud around your face. gold cuffs still glinted at your ears and your ring caught the neon lights every time you moved your hand, which was often, because you couldn't stop looking at it.
"let me see it again," your friend demanded while crawling across the couch on her knees.
you held out your hand like a queen presenting her favorite gem. she grabbed your wrist, pulling your ring finger toward the light.
"lawd," she breathed. "it look different every time i see it."
"that's because the lighting keep changing," your sister pointed out.
"girl…don't ruin the magic."
weeks before your birthday, ony had proposed to you at the stadium during the halftime of one of his games. the way he had dropped to one knee in front of fifty thousand people and made you cry so hard you forgot how to speak.
you still watched the video sometimes. late at night, when he was asleep beside you, his arm thrown over your waist, and his breath warm on your neck. you'd pull up the clips on your phone to see the ones that had gone viral, the ones your cousins had sent, even the ones from angles you didn't know existed.
and you'd watch yourself say yes over and over again because it still didn't feel real. but the rock on your finger? that felt real and heavy.
"earth to birthday girl." your friend yells as she waves a hand in front of your face. "you left us again."
"sorry." you blinked while shaking your head. "just thinking."
"about that man, huh?" your cousin said while grinning.
"always about him."
"disgusting. i love it."
"okay, okay," your friend said while clapping her hands to get everyone's attention. "we need to talk about the comments recentlyyyy."
you groaned while throwing your head back against the couch. "do we have to?"
"yes!" your cousin yells while pulling out her phone, already scrolling. "people are obsessed with you. look–" she turned the screen toward you.
it was a post from some sports blog. a picture of you and ony at a game last week— you in his jersey number, him with his arm around your waist, and both of you laughing at something off camera. the caption read: "onyankopon's fiancée continues to steal hearts. who is she?"
"who is she?" your sister read aloud while scoffing. "she's right there, with a name."
"they don't care about your name," your cousin says, echoing her own words from earlier. "they care about the ring."
you held up your hand again while watching the diamond catch the pink neon lights. "can you blame them?"
"no," all three of them said in unison.
after your little proposal debrief, the shots kept coming. someone ordered a round of something blue that tasted like candy and burned like hell. your cousin eventually pulled you up off the couch because your song was playing and suddenly you were shaking ass.
the vip section wasn't huge but it was big enough. your bare feet (you'd kicked your heels off somewhere around shot four) moved across the cool floor, arms raised, curls bouncing, and the gold chain on your back catching the light with every bounce.
your cousin joined you, then your friend, finally your sister was there too, and the four of you were a tangle of limbs and laughter, dancing on each other until you were dizzy.
"this is the best birthday ever!" your cousin shouted over the music.
eventually, you collapsed back onto the couch, chest heaving and dress riding up just a little. you didn't bother pulling it down cause everyone here was family.
"i need water," you announced.
"you need more shots," your friend countered.
"i need both."
your sister flagged down a waiter who looked like he'd been waiting for an excuse to come over and ordered a round of waters and another bottle of something expensive.
"put it on the fiancée’s tab," she added and the waiter nodded like he already knew because of course he knew. ony had probably tipped him a month's rent to make sure you were taken care of.
"speaking of ony," your sister said while sliding closer to you on the couch, "when is he getting here?"
you glanced at your phone that read 1:47 am. he'd texted you an hour ago, “you good?", and you'd replied with a blurry photo of you and your girls making kissy faces at the camera.
come through
bring your friends.
👀
"soon," you said while grinning. "i told him to bring the guys."
your friends eyebrows shot up. "i thought this was girls night?"
"it was but i miss my man." you shrugged, unashamed. "and i needed an excuse to see him without making y'all feel like third wheels."
"and you still made us the third wheels?" your cousin asked while laughing.
"no, i made them the third wheels. now y'all can focus on jean and them."
"you're so calculating," your friend said but she was already reaching for her compact mirror.
"i'm considerate. there's a difference boo."
a couple minutes later your phone buzzed and you snatched it up so fast your cousin laughed.
outside. coming up.
finally.
you miss me?
maybe.
you drunk?
maybe.
send a pic.
you held up your phone and angled it downward so your body was in the frame and snapped a quick photo— you sitting pretty on the velvet seats, dress hitched up on your thighs, curls wild, and ring catching the light. your smile was drunk and happy as you tried your best to get a steady picture.
hurry up.
damn. on my way.
you tossed your phone on the couch, grabbed the nearest shot glass and downed it.
"he's coming," you announced.
the table erupted.
"finally."
“where's my lip gloss?"
"connie better be with him. im getting us out the trenches tonight."
"you're so weird."
"and you're so single. let me live."
you laughed while watching your girls scramble to reapply gloss, fluff their hair, and fix their dresses. they pretended not to care but you saw the way your sister checked her reflection in a spoon and the way your friend suddenly cared about the arrangement of bottles on the table.
you just sat back, heart racing at the thought of your man coming and you couldn't wait to feel his arms around you.
a hour later, the elevator dinged as the doors slid open and there he was.
ony stepped out first and his eyes found you immediately, his eyes scanning the room before landing on your face. behind him came eren, jean, connie, and some teammates you recognized but couldn't name in your drunken state.
the energy in the room shifted as ony crossed to you in six long strides, ignoring everyone else, and pulling you off the couch into his arms.
"hey, mama," he murmured against your hair.
"you took forever," you mumbled as you melted into his chest.
"had to drag these fools out the studio. eren was locked in."
"eren can wait."
"he said the same thing about you."
you rolled your eyes as you pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. his eyes dragged over your face at your wild curls, your smudged lip gloss, and the drunken slant of your smile.
"you look good," he said.
"i look drunk."
"ain’t no difference."
he kissed you while connie whistled and someone yelled "get a room" and you know that was definitely jean but you didn't care.
you had your man. you had your girls. you had the whole city at your feet and a ring on your finger during a birthday night you'd never forget.
and when ony pulled back, breathless and smiling, he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.
"happy birthday, mama," he said softly.
"thank you for coming," you replied.
"ain't nowhere else i'd rather be."
you weren't sure exactly when you'd ended up in ony's lap. one minute you were standing and leaning against the couch while your cousin poured another round. the next, ony had grabbed your waist, pulled you down onto his thighs, and wrapped an arm around your stomach to keep you from sliding off.
"you 'bout to fall," he murmured in your ear, his breath warm against your neck.
"i am not," you slurred, even as your body sagged against his chest.
"mmhm."
his hand splayed across your bare back and you shivered, pressing closer. the vip section spun lazily around you, pink and gold lights blurring at the edges. your girls were scattered across the couches now, deep in conversation with the guys.
and you? you were exactly where you wanted to be.
"another shot!" your friend appeared in front of you, holding out a glass. "for the birthday girl!" you reached for it but your hand wobbled and ony plucked it out of the air before you could grab it.
"nah," he said, tossing it back himself. "she done."
"ony–" you started to protest but he was already setting the glass on the table.
"you can barely sit up straight, mama. you ain't takin' no more shots."
"i'm fine–"
"you're drunk." he kissed your temple, soft and firm. "and you're gonna thank me tomorrow."
you wanted to argue but your body betrayed you as you melted further into his chest. his arms tightened around you and you sighed, your head falling back against his shoulder.
"fine," you mumbled. "but you gotta take the rest of 'em for me."
"already planned on it."
and he did.
every time one of your cousins came over with a shot, ony took it. every time someone shouted "birthday girl!" and raised a glass, ony drank it. he didn't even flinch, just tossed them back one after another, his chest rumbling with low laughter every time you whined about it.
"you're gonna be so drunk," you said, watching him down another.
"someone gotta be." he set the glass down while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "can't have you out here actin' up."
"i don't act up."
"you literally tried to climb on the table ten minutes ago."
"i was dancing."
"you were struggling."
you pouted but he just kissed the pout off your lips and you forgot what you were mad about.
somewhere around 2:30, food appeared.
this was drunk food. wings, loaded fries, and mozzarella sticks that stretched for miles when you bit into them. ony must have ordered it at some point because he was the only one coherent enough to use a phone.
"eat," he said while pressing a fry to your lips.
you took a bite, chewing slowly, your eyes half closed.
"'s good," you mumbled.
"eat another one."
"you eat another one."
he shook his head but he was smiling and he fed you three more fries before you turned your face away.
" 'm full."
"you ate like five fries."
" 'm full."
he sighed, setting the plate aside, and pulled you closer. "you impossible."
"you love it."
"unfortunately."
the night started winding down around 3.
your girls were flagging as your sister was arguing with jean about something neither of them would remember tomorrow and your cousin taking mirror selfies with connie's phone because hers had died.
you were barely awake as your face pressed into ony's neck, your breath warm against his skin.
"i'm ready to go," you whispered.
he turned his head as his lips brushed against your forehead. "yeah?"
"mmhm." you nuzzled closer, your nose grazing his jaw. "carry me?"
he laughed low, his chest vibrating under you. "you want me to carry you out?"
"please." you kissed his neck lazily, your lips dragging against his skin. "and grab my heels, they my favorite."
"which ones are those?"
"the ones i was wearin'. under the table."
he looked down and your bare feet were dangling over his thigh, your gold heels kicked somewhere beneath the velvet couch.
"those?"
"those." you kissed his neck again, slower this time. "please, baby."
he exhaled as he muttered, "you tryna kill me,"
"no." you kissed his jaw. "just tryna go home."
he stood up with you wrapped around him like a koala. your legs hooked around his waist, your arms looped around his neck, and your face buried in the crook of his shoulder. he bent down one handed and scooped your heels off the floor, dangling them from his fingers.
"got 'em," he said.
"you're the best," you mumbled into his neck.
"i know."
your girls called out goodbyes as he carried you toward the elevator and shouting "text me when you get home!" you lifted one hand in a lazy wave, your ring catching the light one last time.
the elevator doors closed, muffling the music, and suddenly it was just the two of you.
"you had fun?" he asked, shifting you higher on his hip.
"the most fun." you kissed his neck again, right below his ear, where his cologne was strongest. "thank you for this."
"didn't do nothin'."
"you rented out a whole club."
"that's just money." the elevator dinged as the doors opened to the parking garage. "you happy. that's what matters."
the cool night air hit you the second he stepped outside. ony’s driver had the blacked out suv waiting at the curb. he opened the door for you as you still held onto him, helping you get in because your legs were a unsteady from all those shots. the second the door shut behind him, the world outside disappeared.
it was just the two of you in the dim glow of the interior lights.
“come here, baby.” his voice had dropped that octave that always made you wet. he pulled you across the seat until you were straddling his lap, your dress bunching up around your thighs. his big hands slid up the backs of your legs, squeezing your ass possessively.
“fuck… you really mine now, huh?” he kissed your neck, then your jaw, then your mouth and he was tasting the candy blue shots still on your tongue. “my fiancée. my wife to be. walking around with that ring on your finger while you twerk to city girls. you know what that does to me?”
you whimpered as one of his hands slipped between your thighs, pushing your lace thong to the side. two thick fingers dragging through your already soaked folds.
“shit, you wet as hell,” he groaned, circling your clit with the pads of his fingers before pushing both digits inside you in one smooth stroke. “this pussy been waiting for me all night?”
your head fell back, a broken moan slipping out as he started pumping his fingers, curling them just right against that spot that made your toes curl. the wet sounds filled the backseat, obscene and loud.
“yes–ony… fuck–”
“that’s right. say my name, baby. my pretty baby.” he sucked on your neck, adding a third finger and stretching you open while his thumb worked your clit. “you’re gonna be my wife. carrying my last name. walking around with my ring and my baby in you one day. and you still out here acting like the baddest in the club. you know how proud that shit makes me?”
your hips rolled down onto his hand, chasing the pleasure as it built fast and hot. the driver was separated by the partition, but you didn’t even care if he could hear you moaning like a slut for your man.
ony pulled his fingers out suddenly, making you whine at the loss. he smirked, bringing them to his mouth to taste you while he used his other hand to free himself from his pants. his dick was hard, thick, and leaking for you.
“turn around for me. hands on the seat.”
you obeyed, facing the front, knees on the leather as he pushed your dress up over your ass. he didn’t even pull your thong all the way off, just yanked it to the side again before lining himself up and sinking into you in one long thrust.
“fuuuck, baby,” he groaned, gripping your hips tight. “so tight and wet. this my pussy, right?”
“yes- yours,” you gasped, pushing back on him.
he started fucking you deep, one hand sliding up your back to grab the gold chain like a leash while the other reached around to rub your clit. the car rocked with every thrust, the windows already fogging up.
“look at you,” he praised, voice strained with pleasure. “my fiancée taking this dick so good in the backseat like a nasty little slut. after all them shots and dancing… still creaming all over me. that’s why i’m marrying you. you perfect for me.”
your orgasm hit you hard as your vision blurred. your thighs shaking and moaning his name loud enough that your throat went raw. ony fucked you through it, then pulled out and flipped you onto your back, spreading your legs wide before sliding back in.
he leaned down, forehead against yours, eyes locked on you as he stroked deep and slow.
“i love you,” he breathed between thrusts. “my beautiful baby. my wife. gonna give you everything. this dick. this ring. my last name. everything.”
you came again with his name on your lips, nails digging into his back. ony followed right after, burying himself deep and groaning as he filled you up, hips stuttering against yours.
he stayed inside you for a long moment, kissing you soft and lazy, thumb stroking the diamond on your finger again.
“best birthday ever?” he asked, smiling against your mouth.
you laughed breathlessly, still pulsing around him. “best birthday ever.”
18+. minors dni. rue bennett definitely has the sort of strap game that has you face down sobbing into the bed— especially if you were mouthing off to her before? she’s mean enough to make you work for it, watches you bounce yourself back onto her dick. she leans down, chest pressed against your back only to murmur “yeah, see? there you go. good girl, show me you fuckin’ want it.” she lets out a cocky, airy laugh when you whine out daddy. “feels good, huh, baby? you like that shit?” you can only respond with a whiny sob when her arm finds its way around your neck.
“whiny little mess— so fucking mean before, but now i’m daddy. too fuckin’ easy, baby.” she always starts to ramble when she’s fucking you, talks filth into your ear relentlessly. it does nothing but make you clench around her strap. “shouldn’t even be giving it t’you right now, fuckin’ brat.” you cry out when she crooks her hips in a way that lets her get impossibly deeper in you, your hands grabbing at the arm around your neck. “i’m sorry, daddy, ‘m sorry— gonna be better, i promise,” you babble. it’s bullshit— you and her both know it. it’s why she loves this, though. getting to watch you curse her out and jab your little fingers at her chest… all while knowing she gets to fuck the attitude out of you once you’re done bitching at her.
summary. two generous men, finding peace in giving their pretty girlfriend whatever she wants, anytime and where.
content ✶ advisory. explicit content. throuple relationship. mini blurb. mentions of daddy.
reigns ✶ notes. thinking about making this a series ??
dizzy. that’s how you felt. your vision blurred with dark spots, the scent of their cologne mingling with the haze of weed.
" you still mad at us baby—hm? " nicholas moaned in between your trembling thighs, arms wrapped right around them to keep you from going anywhere as he flicked his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves while your hips are stuttering, grinding into his mouth.
drew moaned at the sight, your back pressed against his tone stomach as his hand grasped your chin, tilting your face up ward. your wide, tear-filled brown eyes meeting his blue ones. " look so pretty like this babydoll. " he whispered bucking his hips into your backside unintentionally.
"ouu f-fuck waitt daddy-" feeling a rush of desire coursing through your veins, your voice becomes husky with arousal, while your body flushed with heat as the tension builds in the pit of your stomach, the fat of your thighs filled with small red hickeys as drew rubbed his free hand down the right one.
" cmon pretty girl, you can take it. " nicholas mumbled sucking on your clit, releasing it with a loud pop; your eyes meeting his as he fucked his tongue into your gushy hole. the vibaration from his moans rippled through you, nearly pushing you over the edge.
you let out a loud whine, eyes rolling back as you arched your body, desperately trying to pull away from him. the sharp slap on your thigh making you freeze in place. " be a good girl f’ us mama, I know you can. " drew moaned slightly, drawn to the slight pout on your puffy lips and the way his tip leaked pre-cum as it pressed against you, his abs tightening from the sensation.
hips buckling with drew fingers slowly curling deep within your walls, "m'cumming oh—" your voice trembling, mascara running down your face as your eyes roll back in your head, your legs shuddered in nicholas's grasp. as they both continued their assault on you, neither of them letting up; even when u tried to close your quivering legs, only to feel a sharp sting and the coldness from the rings on your clit seconds later.
you couldn’t ignore the fact that your husband!izuku lowkey has a breeding kink. you don’t think he fully realizes he has one but you’ve definitely picked up on it in the past few months
especially when he never fails to mention something related to that almost all the time.
“just imagine our kids, baby”
“you’d be the prettiest mommy.”
“can’t wait to see your belly all round”
he’d even started occasionally calling you mommy, saying that one day he might manifest into reality
no matter what time of day, he always managed to slip these images of you with a cute little baby bump in your head. you would usually laugh it off until he started requesting to not use protection some nights too “simply get the full affect” and that he swears he’d “pull it out in time”
and if that wasn’t enough to prove your point, the very few times you guys went unprotected, he’s asked to finish inside of you, which you’ve sternly shot down each time cus now he was going too far. you truly thought he was going crazy but he was unfortunately dead serious.
but now, as he has you in the meanest missionary position, hands squeezing tightly around your thighs as he slams into you messy and needy, your protest weakens
“so pretty.” he praises, kissing your lips before dropping his head to the crook of your neck, listening to how his every stroke punched a moan from you. “pleasee let me today baby. please.”
his dick twitched at the idea of being able to cum inside of you all hot and warm and potentially getting you pregnant.
“want to so bad. wanna fill you up and make you all big and.. and mghnn—fuck i-i’m gonna cum”
he couldn’t even imagine how perfect you’d look waddling around the house carrying his baby (or babies). he could cum from just the idea alone.
“i-izuu..” you managed to get out through your broken moans. but that’s not what he wanted to hear.
“please mommy” his voice cracked slightly, his pace becoming erratic as he felt his climax approaching quickly. “you know i’ll be good to you. whatever you want, baby—whatever you need, i’ll take care of it”
the problem wasn't that you didn't believe him. the problem was the way your stomach fluttered at his words. the way your ankles wrapped around him tighter. the way your body betrayed you by pulling him deeper like it was giving him permission.
he’d never full on begged you like this and you honestly didn’t know what to d think or do.
he made it sound so convincing. so perfect like you’d never have to worry about anything. like he’d make the entire thing worth it.
who knows… maaaybeee one wouldn’t hurt?
"tell me yes," he whined against your throat, hips stuttering as he fought to hold back. his fingers dug into your thighs hard enough to leave crescent-shaped bruises later. little reminders of how badly he wanted this. "t-tell me, please say yes."
your nails scraped down his back as he hit that spot inside you. the one that turned your vision white.
"o-okay! ” you gasped, your eyes rolling back as the knot in your stomach tightened. you didn’t know why you said that but you also didn’t feel bad for saying it. maybe all his mommy manifesting was getting to your head
it didn’t matter because the sound he made was almost wounded. relief, desperation. something raw and it sent you over the edge you were already half way over.
“you mean that?” he panted, face coming up to look at yours with half lidded eyes, searching for any uncertainty “m’ so fuckin close, angel. tell me you’re sure. s-say it pleaseplease say it ”
you nodded weakly “want it zuku, please…” you managed to get out as your orgasm approached strongly. izuku wasted no time burying himself to the hilt with a string of curses, hips jerking as he spilled deep inside you.
you sobbed out as you reached your own peak, legs trembling like jelly. well they were jelly now and probably would be for the next few months.
he came up to rest his forhead on yours, still breathing heavy. his lips twitched into a delirious, blissed-out grin before he placed a kiss on your lips.
“i hope that worked.”
oh yeah he was crazy
kokotlks — uploading after my long ass (but much needed) hiatus is so awkward lol. i am still getting to my reqsts but very slowly and im honestly just posting drafts so my accnt doesnt completely die. but after life decided to play in my ass i just haven’t had energy for reqsts or fixing up something new soooo enjoy my scraps until i gain the strength to write again lol. x
and also guys this is only fiction… for the love of god please USE PROTECTION!!!
𑁍an:you guessed it… another rewrite. super short fic but one of my favorites ^.^
"Jesus, Toji—turn down the damn tv before you go deaf!”
You were walking out of the bathroom, entering the shared bathroom when you were ear-fucked by whatever the fuck your boyfriend was watching on television. His naked back propped up against the headboard, sitting up straight watching what seemed to be a UFC fight. He had his swollen arms crossed over his broad chest squinting his eyes because he didn't want to put on his 'old man' glasses; he said it makes him look stupid.
"I'm tryin' to get the full experience.” He grumbled. His voice was laced with exhaustion; he should’ve waited another hour before he took his routine melatonin.
"Boy—get the full experience in the front room if it's gonna be this loud. I'm about to go to sleep.”
He sighed loudly—over dramatically even, as he reached for the remote. You climbed into bed wearing Toji’s oversized night shirt, boy shorts, and your bonnet tied thrice because it’ll slide off and explore the house if you don't.
"Can you refill my water bottle?" You grab your Stanley, quickly chugging the remaining liquid before handing the empty tumbler to him. He took it reluctantly as he once again sighed loudly—over dramatically even.
"Toji, turn down the tv. Toji, refill my cup.” He mocked in a high pitched voice. “What would you do without Toji?" He asked standing by the door, his hand hugging his hip while the other one swung the cup side to side by the handle.
He awaited your answer with a grin. “I would be very delighted with your absence. ‘S that what you want to hear?”
His smirk quickly inverted, thin dark eyebrows furring in disbelief. “You better hope I fill this bottle with water..”
“Are you threatenin’ me, Fishyguro?”
“Absofuckinlutely.”
"Ooohmagoo-!" Your squeaky voice was cut short by the rough pushing of your head against the bed.
"Shut that shit up."
His hand grabbed a handful of your bouncing ass before giving it an award winning slap. He chuckled at your muffled cursing against the comforter—slapping it again and again and again to pull more from you. His foot was then propped up on the bed, using the force he had on your hair and hip to bring you back to him.
"There we fuckin' go. Juuust like that, baby.”
"Ooooo fuuuuck!"
Each time your ass clapped against his hard stomach, a quick moan left your pretty lips. Your hands found comfort on his thick thighs—nails digging into his flesh. He gave a hiss at the discomfort that brought him to go faster.
"You're gonna make me cuuuuum!"
He felt your body raise up as you lifted on the tips of your toes. He abandoned the grip on your hip bringing both hands to tangle in your hair, rocking you back and forth on his dick like an unstable boat.
"Mhmm. Cum on that dick baby, make it messy. C'mon." Broken whining left your swollen lips as your pussy contracted. “Haah! Toj’!” Eyes crossed as you came around him.
"Toojii fu- fuuck!"
"I knowww, baby. Keep cummin’."
Your hands attempted to push his rock hard stomach to slow down but he didn't stop— he just kept thrusting. Your liquid laminated his lower body as he fucked you through your release, chasing his. His breathing becomes ragged from the constant squeezing of your pussy.
"Fuuuck m'gonna fuckin—ugggh!"
His cum coated his boxers and his low deep groaning vibrated the bed underneath him. His hips rutted rhythmically, his stomach muscles jerking with every movement. His breathing was quivering as he rode his orgasm fast asleep.
He jolted awake in a cold sweat. His breathing was heavy—his dark gray eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. Looking down, he found a very prominent dark spot covering his boxers. His hands rubbed his face—a groan of annoyance filling the air, "Fuckin' hell."
His heavy body shifted off the bed, making his way to the bathroom for a brief shower. The warm water bounced off his sore muscles as he stood reminiscing about his dream. Everything was so vivid and he felt everything—it seemed so realistic. It hadn't happened to him since he was a teenager so the feeling wasn't that foreign, but goddamn.
He made it back to the room, finding you still deep in slumber. Your bonnet was starting to make its grand escape as it was already on the floor, curly coils covering your soft sleeping face. He placed the bonnet next to your Stanley but not before taking a couple gulps of ice cold water.
𓊆ྀི warnings .ᐟ + word count— 6.4K word count. poly relationship, boyfriend toji x suguru!, southern coded toji x suguru!, bratty!reader, bubblyfem!reader, black!femreader, southern coded!fem reader, mean toji x mean suguru, slightly sweet suguru?, threesome, vaginal penetration, angry sex, rough sex, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, squirting, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, face slapping, cowgirl, doggy, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, a lil degrading, condomless sex, kissing, cream pie, spanking, minors aren’t welcome! 𓊇ྀི
メモ。— in honor of jjk coming back, i was missin’ my boyfriends real bad. enjoy.
YOU WERE THE EPITOME OF TROUBLE. Even in the worst scenario—like now—the scent of cigarettes wafting from inches away didn’t bother you, your black pleasers swinging back and forth inches above the metal floor, cold and trailing with the history of footsteps before yours.
The booking cell was cold. The metal bench beneath you leeched warmth from your skin as you sat, shifting slightly in discomfort—the cuffs around your wrists had left angry red marks, the metal biting in just a little too tight before they finally unlatched them. You flexed your fingers, blowing a curl out of your face—your full lips pursed in annoyance as you recalled the flash of the mugshot camera, the way they’d made you hold up that stupid placard with your name and booking number like some kind of trophy.
Your tall, black heels dangled lazily, the sharp tips barely grazing the grimy floor. The leather straps hugging your calves felt tighter than usual—probably from swelling after the scuffle—but you weren’t about to let discomfort show, your silver anklet shuffling as you continued swinging your legs.
Your outfit wasn’t any better for the occasion. A tight black leather jacket clinging to every curve, barely containing the weight of your heavy tits—it was made for attention, not jail cells. The cropped cut showed off your curvy midriff, the dim lighting catching the faint sheen of sweat along your dark brown skin. Below, leather shorts hugged your wide hips and ass, riding up just enough to give a show to the wrong eyes.
Your full heart-shaped lips puffed out a frustrated breath, sending a few loose midnight curls fluttering away from your face as you slumped forward on the hard metal bench. The dark brown freckles dusting your nose and cheeks stood out even in the harsh fluorescent lights, making you look softer than you felt.
Another sigh slipped past your lips.
Annoyed. Bored.
This wasn’t your first time in bookings—probably wouldn’t be your last—but damn if it wasn’t inconvenient.
The cell was suffocating. No clock on the wall, no windows, just the relentless hum of fluorescent lights bleaching everything into a dull, static gray. Your patience was thinning faster than the last shred of goodwill you had left tonight.
You pushed off the bench, hips swaying as you sauntered toward the bars, your back arching naturally—habitual, effortless. The cop stationed near the door barely glanced your way, his bored expression barely flickering as you tilted your head, letting your dark curls cascade over one shoulder.
"’Got a cigarette?"
The cop didn’t even look up from his clipboard.
“‘Not with the way you acted tonight."
Your lips twitched.
A flash of memory—your own fists, sharp acrylics catching skin, the way you’d moved like something feral when that bitch had tried to grab your hair. You weren’t proud. But you weren’t sorry either.
“…I learned my lesson,” you hummed smoothly, your tone syrup thick with innocence.
Silence.
The cop kept writing.
Your brow arched, nails tapping against the cold metal bar.
“Hello?"
Nothing.
A muscle in your jaw ticked.
“Don’t worry about it then, motherfuc—"
The door at the end of the hall swung open, cutting you off. Another cop stepped in, keys jangling.
“You’re being released."
You blinked—and that’s when the smallest grin spread, already knowing who it was before you even peeked your head out.
And there they were.
Toji.
Midnight black hair styled within a wolf cut, towering frame blocking half the hallway light, tattoos crawling up his neck like shadows. His deep gray eyes pinned you in place—cold, unreadable, pissed. That scar across his lips only made his expression sharper. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just looked at you like he was debating whether to drag you out or leave you here to rot.
And then, Suguru.
Long, dark hair tied half-up, eyebrow piercing glinting under the harsh lights. His hazel eyes flickered over you—checking for bruises, probably. His broad chest rose with a heavy sigh, arms crossed over his shirt. Exasperated? Sure. But probably more relieved to see you than the man standing next to him.
“Guess it’s my lucky day, huh?”
The cop didn’t dignify that with words—just a hardened glare, jaw clenched tight. You blew him a kiss anyway, the brown gloss on your lips glinting under the harsh station lights.
Then—instinct. You knew better than to approach Toji first.
You launched yourself at Suguru with a playful squeak, legs wrapping around his waist as he caught you effortlessly—one hand gripping your ass through the tight leather shorts, the other securing the small of your back. His deep chuckle vibrated against your chest as you buried your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of leather and cigarettes.
“Troublemaker," he murmured, voice thick as he squeezed your thigh—“What are you doin’ here, huh?"
You pulled back just enough to flash him those wide, doe eyes—all innocence, no guilt.
”Just had a little fun."
His hazel gaze darkened, lips hovering so close to yours you could taste the mint on his breath—but then, you felt it.
That heat.
Your lashes fluttered toward Toji who hadn’t moved an inch—just stood there like a storm barely contained, veins in his forearms popping with every breath. So you did what you did best.
Slender eyes rounding, lips parting in that perfect smile—the one that always made him cave.
“Hi, Daddy.”
His scar twitched.
“‘They hurt you?"
The question was low, lethal—like he was already calculating which of these cops he’d break first. You shook your head fast.
Toji didn’t wait for another word. Just turned on his heel, the heavy clack of his boots echoing as he stalked toward the exit.
“Let’s go."
Of course this is how it always went—Suguru with his soft hands and easy forgiveness, Toji with his ironclad discipline and zero tolerance for your antics. And right now, pressed into the buttery leather backseat of Toji’s sleek black Corvette, you knew exactly where to seek refuge.
Suguru slid into the passenger seat, long dark hair spilling over the headrest as he tipped his head back, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. The sharp scent of tobacco mixed with his cologne made him effortlessly attractive, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took another drag, tattoos peeking from beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Meanwhile, Toji gripped the steering wheel like he wanted to snap it in half, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he peeled out of the parking lot with a growl of the engine.
Silence.
Then—
“Omae wa itsumo anta ni amaeru kara, sonna koto shiteru no sa."
You let her be cute with you. That’s why she thinks this shit is funny.
You didn’t need a translator to know he was talking about you.
Suguru flicked ash out the window, unfazed.
“Futari de okotte mo shikata nai darou? Dame na ko da."
Both of us bein’ mad at her isn’t gonna’ fix anything.
You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.
“You know I can’t understand what you’re saying."
Toji’s grey eyes flashed in the rearview mirror—dark, dangerous.
“I don’t wanna hear all that whinin’ right now," he snapped, voice dropping to a rough timbre that curled your toes—“I’m close to reachin’ in that backseat and tearin’ your ass up."
You rolled your eyes dramatically, turning to stare out the window—but not fast enough to miss the way his brow arched in the reflection, that unspoken try me written all over his face.
Suguru just chuckled, taking another drag.
The tension in the car was thick enough to choke on, the only sound being the low hum of the engine and Suguru exhaling smoke out the cracked window. You couldn’t take it anymore—your stomach growled loudly, betraying you before you could even open your mouth.
“I’m hungry."
Toji’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.
“‘You thought about that when you were makin’ dumbass decisions?"
Your lips twisted in defiance—“I didn’t even get to say what happened!"
His jaw clenched, “‘Had to talk a cop outta’ pressin’ charges after you swung on him. You think I’m a fuckin’ idiot?"
You bit the inside of your cheek, refusing to cave—instead, you leaned forward, pressing yourself against the passenger seat, your chest pressing into Suguru’s shoulder as you peered up at him through your lashes.
“‘Guru…” Your voice dripped in a needy way, wanting his rescue.
Suguru released a breath. He tilted his head just enough to meet your gaze, hazel eyes softening despite himself.
“‘'We get you somethin’, and you tell us what happened—yeah?"
You nodded quickly, already victorious.
Toji muttered something under his breath, but the car slowed, pulling into the neon-lit parking lot of a 24-hour diner.
“Move fast," he cut the engine, “Before I change my goddamn mind."
The second your Pleasers hit the pavement outside the diner, a little giggle escaped you—relief flooding your veins as you tugged on Suguru’s arm while he was only halfway out of the car. You caught the tail end of whatever he muttered to Toji in Japanese, his deep voice laced with something between exasperation and amusement before he shut the door and let you pull him toward the diner’s flickering neon sign.
Even softened for you, Suguru was intimidating.
Standing beside him in line, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at his profile—the sharp line of his jaw, the eyebrow piercing glinting under the fluorescent lights. His build was pure power—broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his black long sleeve, thick arms corded with muscle, tattoos peeking from beneath his sleeves. His natural scowl had the couple in front of you shifting uncomfortably, but you just leaned into his side, playing with the hem of his shirt.
Then—
He leaned down, catching your lips in a rough kiss that stole your breath, his free hand gripping your waist possessively. You giggled against his mouth, squirming when he murmured, “Behave,” against your lips before pulling away.
Your curls tumbled over your shoulders as you leaned against the counter, your ass poking out deliberately while you ordered in that sweet, innocent voice you reserved for moments like this. The cashier’s eyes flickered down—lingering a second too long on the swell of your heavy tits beneath the tight leather jacket—before Suguru’s hand suddenly hooked into the waistband of your shorts and yanked you back against him.
You barely had time to pout before he was tossing a wad of cash onto the counter, his gaze locked onto the cashier with a silent sneer that had the man scrambling to hand back his change with shaky hands.
The greasy paper bag crinkled in your lap as you tore into your burger like a starving little creature, cheeks puffing out adorably with each oversized bite. Suguru watched you, shaking his head slightly as he passed his cigarette to Toji—who sat with one boot propped outside the open car door, smoke curling from his lips as he stared straight ahead, silent as a tomb.
Usually, Toji’s anger was loud—sharp Japanese curses spat, deep voice raised just enough to make you squirm. But tonight? Nothing. Just the occasional drag of his cigarette, grey eyes cold and distant even as you swallowed your food with a tiny sigh and finally launched into your explanation.
“Okay—so," you started, wiping a bit of ketchup from the corner of your lip, “It wasn’t even my fault—some drunk bitch kept stepping on my damn shoes, and when I told her to watch it, she tried to swing on me."
Toji’s eyebrow twitched in the rearview.
You kept going, waving a fry for emphasis.
“And then her dude tried to jump in—so I grabbed a bottle. That’s when the cop tried to grab me like I started it—so yeah, I might’ve... y’know. Elbowed him.”
Suguru snorted, rubbing his temples like he was fighting off a headache.
“Goddamn, baby."
Toji took a slow drag from the cigarette, his grey eyes cutting through the rearview like a blade.
"Lie again."
You huffed, tossing your half-eaten burger back into the bag—"Okay, fine—I hit him. But only because he tried to grab me first!"
“‘You think that was smart?"
You folded your arms across your chest.
“It wasn’t my intention to be smart, Fushiguro. Otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten arrested."
A muscle in Toji’s temple jumped.
“Watch your fuckin’ tone.”
“I wasn’t trying to get in trouble," you then muttered, dropping your gaze.
Suguru sighed, running a hand through his dark hair—“Why didn’t you call me, huh? Or Fushiguro?"
You shot him a look.
“‘And have him mad at me because he had to fight someone at the bar?"
That’s when Toji’s voice snapped like a whip—
“'You think I wouldn’t protect you?"
The air in the car went still, his eyes burning into yours through the mirror.
“I’d kill for you. Don’t fuckin’ play like I wouldn’t."
You curled your fingers into your palms, suddenly feeling small.
"...I know."
Toji’s nostrils flared. Then, without another word, he flicked his cigarette out the window and started the car.
And just like that—the conversation was over.
You couldn’t help but imagine Toji standing in that precinct, stone-faced and seething, having to negotiate—apologize—for your reckless hands. He wasn’t the type to bow his head for anything. Not for money, not for pride, and definitely not for some cop who probably pissed him off just by breathing wrong.
But he did it for you.
Suguru’s patience was softer, easier—even he wasn’t letting you off the hook. The way his thumb brushed your knuckles wasn’t just comfort—it was a silent, you fucked up.
The car rolled to a stop outside their sleek, modern condo—all sharp black architecture, floor-to-ceiling windows, and dark furniture accented with deep reds that reminded you of blood and wine. Toji stepped out first, boots heavy against the pavement as he stalked toward the entrance without looking back.
"I need a shower," he muttered, voice gruff—more to himself than anyone else.
You scrambled out after him, almost tripping over your own feet in your hurry.
“Let me come clean you," you offered, half-teasing, half-desperate for the forgiveness you knew wasn’t coming easy.
“Nah."
Your lips nearly formed a pout before you caught yourself.
And just like that, the night's consequences finally settled in.
The shower steam curled around you and Suguru in thick, fragrant clouds—vanilla and sandalwood from his body wash mixing with the citrus of yours. Your giggles were honey sweet, bouncing off the marble tiles as he cupped water in his large hands to rinse the suds from your shoulders. His touch was methodical as he worked the soap into your skin, his fingers tracing the dip of your waist, the curve of your hips.
Your lashes fluttered when you caught his reflection in the fogged up glass—his torso a canvas of ink, muscles flexing as he reached for the shampoo. His dark hair was slicked back, water sluicing down the sharp planes of his face, that eyebrow piercing glinting even in the low light. Handsome. So fucking pretty it made your chest ache.
You toweled off together, tugging on one of Toji’s oversized black long sleeves—the fabric swallowing you whole but still clinging to the swell of your hips, the shadow of your bare thighs peeking beneath. Your curls were a wild, damp halo around your face, freckles darker against your freshly scrubbed skin.
Now, kneeling on the massive silk bed—black as midnight, cool against your knees—you watched Suguru lean against the headboard, shirtless, smoke curling from his lips. His hair was pulled into a loose bun, a few damp strands escaping to frame his face. The TV flickered silently, some late-night infomercial playing as he mindlessly flipped channels.
"You hate me too?" you whispered, voice too small for your own liking.
Suguru’s eyes didn’t leave the screen.
“You know goddamn well I don’t hate you," he said, exhaling smoke—“Don’t start all that dramatic shit."
The words should’ve comforted you. Instead, they made you curl inward, arms wrapping around yourself.
“Where’s Toji?"
“Probably in the office or library part of the house," he muttered, his free hand idly tracing circles on your bare thigh where the shirt rode up—“Tryna’ get his mind right."
You frowned, worrying your lip between your teeth as your fingers fidgeted.
“…He’s never this mad at me," you admitted softly, a little crease forming between your brows.
Suguru’s thumb paused its lazy pattern on your skin, and you felt the shift in his energy—the way his chest rose with a deeper inhale before he spoke again.
“He should be. Anythin’ could’ve happened to you gettin’ arrested by yourself.”
His voice was low, a rough edge to it that sent a shiver down your spine—“You know he’d fuck up an entire city behind you."
A little giggle bubbled up in your chest at the image—Toji, massive frame clad in black, storming through the streets like some avenging god—and before you could stop yourself, you were pressing smushing kisses into the column of Suguru’s throat, your lips warm against his tattooed skin.
He grunted but didn’t push you away—just let you nuzzle there, your curls tickling his jaw as you inhaled the familiar scent of him—cigarettes, expensive cologne, and something inherently Suguru.
“You smell good," you mumbled against his pulse, your earlier guilt momentarily forgotten in the comfort of his presence.
“Yeah, yeah," he drawled, but you could hear the affection beneath the gruffness—“Quit’ tryna’ seduce me, woman.”
Your fingertips glide along the intricate ink of the serpent coiled around Suguru’s abdomen, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. You hesitate for just a second before your fingers hook into the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging gently—your voice soft, laced with soft remorse.
“Just wanna show how sorry I am," you murmur, eyes flickering up to meet Suguru’s dark gaze—“…I know you’re mad at me too."
Then—
A presence at the doorway.
You freeze, your gaze snapping toward the shadowed figure leaning against the frame. Toji stands there, massive shoulders filling the entrance, grey eyes locked onto you like a predator tracking prey. Shirtless, tattoos sprawling across every inch of his sculpted torso, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips—he’s a vision of raw, barely contained power.
Your lip finds its way between your teeth as you slowly crawl toward the edge of the bed, hips swaying just slightly with each shift of your knees.
"’Missed you,” you breathe, voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m knowin’," he rumbles, deep voice vibrating through the room. Then, after a beat—
“What’d you say earlier? ‘Bout how you wanted to show how sorry you were?"
Your eyes search his face for any sign of softening—but Toji’s expression remains steel.
You reach for him, fingers trembling as they brush the fabric of his sweats—but before you can get any further, his hand snaps up, gripping your chin with bruising force.
“So go show him how fuckin’ sorry you are," he growls, “I didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout you touchin’ me."
His grip loosens just enough to shove you back toward Suguru—who watches the exchange with dark eyes, cigarette dangling lazily between his fingers.
The sting of rejection burns hot behind your ribs, your bottom lip trembling before you can stop it—fat, glistening tears welling in your lashes as you drag your gaze back to Suguru.
He sees it. Of course he does.
Those hazel eyes of his—sharp, knowing—trace the wobble of your pout, the way your fingers hesitate before curling into the fabric of his sweatpants again. But Suguru’s never been one to bend for tears—not when he knows they’re your weapon of choice, not when he’s spent years learning the difference between your real cries and the ones you wield like a blade.
“Nuh-uh," he tsks, grasping at your jaw—“You know I don’t do all that poutin’. Swallow my shit like you fuckin’ mean it."
Your breath hitches—but you don’t argue.
Instead, your fingers hook into his waistband, tugging impatiently until his cock springs free—thick, already swollen at the tip, a bead of pre-cum glistening against flushed skin.
You whimper but you don’t hesitate, dragging your tongue over the head, lapping up the bitter salt of him before sinking down, down, down—
His groan is sharp above you, fingers tangling in your curls as your throat flutters around him, greedy and desperate. It’s a struggle—his size stretching your lips, your jaw aching—but you take it, tears spilling over as you hollow your cheeks, swallowing around him like you’re starving.
“There you fuckin’ go," he rasps out.
Your mouth works over Suguru’s cock with a needy desperation, lips stretched obscenely around his girth as saliva drips down your chin in messy, glistening strands. His deep pink lips curl into a sneer above you, that silver eyebrow piercing catching the dim light as he watches you through half-lidded eyes—hazel darkening with every filthy, wet sound your mouth makes around him.
Your whimpers spill out unbidden, high and muffled around the thick weight on your tongue, your hips rocking involuntarily against the air, the fabric of Toji’s stolen shirt riding up to expose the plush, pink folds of your cunt—already slick, already aching.
Then—
A stinging spank against your ass sends your entire body jolting forward, a choked mewl leaving you as your hands instinctively fly to grip Suguru’s thighs for balance.
But Suguru tsks again, fingers tightening in your hair as he yanks you back just enough to glare down at you.
“Did I say you could use your hands?” His voice is a dark, mocking purr—“Put ‘em back.”
Before you can even think to obey, Toji’s rough palms are already catching your wrists, wrenching them behind your back with effortless strength.
“It’s never a fuckin’ option,” he growls—“Never a choice. That’s your problem now, don’t fuckin’ listen.”
The angle is awkward, your knees weak and head spinning with the lack of air, and you can barely focus on anything but the way your jaw aches—your tongue running frantically over the side of Suguru’s length like an apology. Without the use of your hands, you can't properly steady yourself—Suguru's thick cock fully slips from your lips with an obscene wet sound as you frantically drag your tongue along the veined underside, desperate to keep contact. A bead of pre-cum smears across your cheek as you struggle, drawing a low, arrogant chuckle from Suguru's lips.
“Mmm, ‘you ain't too fuckin' sorry," he rumbles, voice dripping with amusement as his fingers tighten in your hair.
Behind you, Toji's breath ghosts over the arch of your back—dark, mocking.
“‘She never was."
Your head twists toward him, lips parted around a breathy mewl—“I am," you whimper, voice breaking.
“Why's my cock so fuckin' hard then?" Suguru challenges, thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip—“Should've milked me by now."
“…’S too big, baby," you tremble, lashes fluttering—but Suguru sees right through it.
And that's when Toji growls, "There she goes. All that fuckin' whinin'. ‘Go ‘head, give her a reason to keep that shit up."
Suguru's grip shifts, his other hand coming down to palm roughly at your clit through the soaked fabric of Toji's shirt still clinging to your hips.
“‘Come sink down on my shit," he orders, voice dropping to something lethal—“Hurry the fuck up."
Your limbs tremble as you drag yourself onto Suguru’s lap, every movement shaky and uncoordinated—the tears aren’t an act anymore, fat and hot as they spill down your cheeks.
“‘Want Toji,” you whimper, voice thick with pouty desperation, your fingers clutching at Suguru’s shoulders like you’re torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer, “Suguru...please.”
“Sink down on it,” he growls, voice rough with restraint—“Shut all that shit up.”
And then—
His tip drags against your folds, blunt and unrelenting, spreading you open in one brutal glide until you’re forced to take him, your body yielding with a wet, filthy sound as he bottoms out inside you. Your pussy pffts around the stretch, the obscene noise drowned out by your own guttural whimper—half-pain, half-relief—as your walls flutter violently around him, gushing slick that drips down his thighs.
You already know the drill, unfortunately.
Your feet plant against the bed, thighs trembling as you bounce yourself on his cock, each desperate little grind forcing another broken noise from your lips. Your pout deepens, your mouth hanging open as your eyes roll back—helpless, overwhelmed, ruined—while Suguru watches you with dark amusement, his hands resting heavy on your hips, letting you do all the work.
“Look at that,” Toji growls, “All that cryin’, and she’s still fuckin’ drippin’ for it.”
Suguru grunts in agreement, his thumb swiping through the mess between your legs before bringing it to your lips—“Taste that shit,” he orders, smearing your own slick across your tongue, “That’s how sorry you really are.”
And you—
You can’t do anything but take it.
"She’s creamin’ already," he then growls, voice rough with amusement—"Can’t even fuckin’ handle me."
Behind you, Toji’s hand cracks down on your ass again—stinging—his fingers tangling in the nape of your neck to keep your head bowed, preventing you from twisting to look at him.
“Eyes forward," he orders, his voice a rough rumble against your spine—“‘Ain’t no lookin’ back at me."
Your pussy spurts around Suguru’s cock with every desperate bounce—obscene, wet—and the sensation wrings a broken squeak from your lips—“Fuuuckkkk, ‘m sorry, baby—"
Suguru arches a brow beneath you, hips stilling completely.
“Who’re you apologizin’ to?"
You whimper, bouncing harder—frantic now—as you sob out, “Y—you!"
A slow, knowing grin curls Suguru’s lips as he finally—finally—thrusts up, grinding his cock deep inside you in a brutal, deliberate roll.
“Me, huh?”
You’re trembling, eyes rolling back as another gush of cream spills out around him—his grunt of approval vibrating through your core before you choke out a silent, breathless squeak—
“…Y—you, baby."
The sound of your own ass clapping against Suguru’s thighs echoes in your ears—loud, obscene, embarrassing—as you struggle to keep rhythm, thighs burning from exertion. Your pout deepens, lips swollen and parted around pathetic little whimpers, your eyes glazed over with a mix of pleasure and desperation. Suguru watches you with dark amusement, his grip bruising on your hips as he lets you fuck yourself stupid.
“You doin’ all this for me?" he murmurs, voice dripping with mocking sweetness—“Bouncin’ stupid on my cock ‘cause you’re sorry?”
You whine, nodding frantically, your words dissolving into a stuttering mess, “Ye—ye-y—yes—"
Suguru clicks his tongue, tilting his head as he watches you struggle.
“Nah," he decides, voice dropping lower—“You ain’t worried ‘bout me. You’re puttin’ on a show for him.”
Behind you, Toji exhales a slow, rough breath—hot against your shoulder as he rasps, “She ain’t gettin’ me. ‘Might as well finish you off."
Your tears return in an instant—thick, hot, real—spilling down your cheeks as you silently bounce on Suguru’s cock, your movements losing coordination as the weight of your punishment sinks in. His grip shifts suddenly—one hand sliding up to cradle your throat, his thumb brushing gently over your trembling lips—soothing you even as his hips snap up, fucking into you with brutal precision.
“Love you so much, ‘Guru…”
It slips out, weak and trembling, muffled against his skin—and just like always, Suguru softens.
His grip on your hips gentles just slightly, his rhythm losing some of its brutality as he curses under his breath and tugs you down into a searing kiss. Your whimpers melt into his mouth, your tongue lapping against his in desperate, sweet little strokes—like you’re trying to apologize with every flick, every needy press of your lips.
“‘She’s always gettin’ her way with you,” Toji growls—“Come suck me off ‘fore I change my mind.”
Your body trembles—from exhaustion, from overstimulation—but the moment Suguru releases you, you’re scrambling toward Toji, your hands shaking as you reach for him.
You missed him.
Missed the sharp cut of his glare, the way his jaw ticks when he’s pissed, the way his dominance settles over you like a heavy blanket—unshakable, inescapable.
You tug his sweats down with clumsy fingers, your breath catching as his cock springs free—large, long, dangerous—thick and heavy in your palms.
Toji watches you through hooded eyes, “‘’Better do a good fuckin’ job, too. I’m watchin’.”
And you try.
God, you try.
Where you were needy with Suguru, you’re desperate with Toji—your lips stretching obscenely around his girth, your hands working in tandem to stroke what you can’t take. You’re messy—saliva dripping down your chin, your nose pressing into his pelvis as you choke around him—but you don’t stop.
“That’s all you got?” he rasps—“‘Thought you was sorry, huh?”
His hand cracks against your cheek—stinging—drawing a deep, shuddering whimper from your throat as your eyes water.
Toji’s gaze flicks over your head to Suguru, his voice dropping to a growl—
“‘Come eat her. Need her loose enough to sink every fuckin’ inch of me in so I can pound her shit out.”
Suguru’s broad palms spread your thighs wider from behind, his tongue dragging a slow, torturous stripe over your swollen clit. The pleasure is blinding, your back arching, your moan vibrating around Toji’s cock—and suddenly, your attempts to suck him off grow even messier, your rhythm faltering as Suguru’s mouth works you open with ruthless precision.
“Focus,” Toji orders, gripping your hair tighter—“‘Ain’t done with you yet.”
His jaw tightens when you force yourself deeper, taking him down your throat until your nose presses flush against his pelvis, until your vision blurs with tears, until your gag reflex burns—before you drag yourself off with a wet, gasping choke.
“‘Ass up,” he roughly orders—“‘That’s how you wanna feel me?”
You nod—pouty, eager—turning away from him, pressing your face into the sheets as you arch your back, presenting yourself to him. Your thighs tremble, your cunt dripping, already clenching around nothing as you hear the soft click of Suguru leaning back against the bedframe, his hand lazily stroking himself as he watches.
And then—
Toji enters you.
The stretch is brutal—splitting you open in a way that borders on too much, his cock carving into your tight heat with punishing precision. Your breath catches, your fingers twisting into the sheets as you mewl—high and broken—arching your back even further as you try to sink down onto him.
“‘You want the whole thing already, huh?” His voice is a dark rasp—“‘Fuck me.”
You throw yourself back onto him, but your strength is gone, your thighs shaking too violently to do more than bounce weakly against only the tip of him. Your lip catches between your teeth, a strangled whimper slipping free as you feel it—the stretch, the ache, the way your body struggles to accommodate him.
Suguru’s voice is low in front of you as his fingers trail up your spine, “‘Needin’ help, baby?”
Your cheek presses deeper into the sheets as you nod, curls spilling wildly around your face—Suguru’s palm lands heavy between your shoulder blades, fingers splaying possessively before he pushes, forcing you down onto Toji’s cock in one merciless thrust. The stretch punches a low, throaty moan from you, guttural and filthy, as your walls flutter violently around him.
“Fuhhhhck—!”
The sound rips from you, ragged and broken, as Toji lets out a growl.
“You feel that?” His voice is a rough purr, thumbs circling the dip of your waist—“I’m in your shit, huh?”
You whimper, nodding desperately, your voice climbing into a squeal—
“So f—fucking deep, Daddy…”
Toji’s glare turns lethal.
“Say ‘I’m sorry, Daddy.’”
You don’t hesitate—your voice spills out dumb, loud and stupidly obedient—
“’M sorrryyy—!”
The moment the word leaves your lips, he moves—snapping his hips up in brutal, unforgiving strokes, driving into you with a rhythm that steals your breath. His voice stays level, controlled—“Sorry for what?”
“Makin’ s—stuff harder for you…!” You hiccup, twisting the sheets in your fists—”D—Don’t be mad at me…!”
Your entire body shudders beneath Toji’s relentless pace—his cock pistoning into you with such raw, possessive fury that your thighs tremble, your back arching deeper into the sheets as you sob uncontrollably. Suguru watches from the bedframe, his fist working harsh, deliberate strokes over his own length, his dark eyes glinting with something between amusement and hunger.
“Lil’ problem,” he huffs, voice thick with desire—“Even now.”
Toji leans over you, his thrusts grow heavier, each snap of his hips punctuated by a deep, guttural grunt. His voice drops to a rough, almost broken rasp—
“You know what I would’ve done if somethin’ happened to you, huh?”
You whimper, your cries muffled against the mattress, your fingers clutching uselessly at the sheets.
He doesn’t wait for an answer.
“I’d fuckin’ kill for you.”
Suguru’s chuckle is dark, his grip tightening around his cock as he echoes—
“We’d fuckin’ kill for you.”
You’re gone.
A trembling, tearful mess beneath Toji—tears streaming down your cheeks, your pussy clenching around him in desperate, rhythmic pulses as if begging for more—yet your tears say otherwise.
“Stop cryin’, baby—“ he murmurs, “Just open m’ pussy up for me. Keep feedin’ my dick.”
Your back arches impossibly further, letting him take everything he wants. Your cries soften into breathless, shuddering moans as you melt around him, your body yielding completely—
“…M’ g—gonna cum!”
Toji doesn’t pause.
With a rough grunt, his hands lock around your waist, tugging you back and forth onto his cock with effortless strength—treating you like nothing more than a toy, something to be used, something that weighs nothing to him.
"’Better do more than that," he rasps, “Give me a fuckin’ show ‘fore I fuck you ‘til you break."
Your orgasm hits you like a truck.
A high pitched squeak tears from your throat as you squirt violently around him—so hard you actually push him out, gushing slick all over his thighs and the sheets beneath you. Your face presses embarrassingly into the mattress, shoulders trembling as Suguru’s fingers dig into your curls possessively, his groan rough with approval.
“That’s my fuckin’ girl.”
Suguru’s thumb rubs slow circles into your skin, murmuring—“Good fuckin’ job, baby."
All you can do is whimper—now exhausted, fucked-out, ruined. Exactly how they wanted you.
Toji’s rough fingers grip your chin, tilting your face toward him as he murmurs in low, husky Japanese—
“Anata ni awa sete kudasai.”
Let me see you.
He studies your face—your freckled cheeks flushed deep, your wide, glossy eyes blinking up at him, lips parted in tired satisfaction. His thumb swipes across your bottom lip, pressing down slightly before he shoves your face away with a gruff grunt.
“Yeah, she’s fuckin’ sorry.”
You whimper, collapsing onto your elbows as you watch them both—and god, they’re breathtaking.
Suguru’s tattooed frame gleams under the dim light as he lazily lights a cigarette between his lips before passing it to Toji. Their skin is still slick with sweat, their powerful bodies marked with ink and scars—yours, in every way that matters.
You shift onto your knees, your aching thighs trembling as your gaze flicks between them.
Your voice was soft, “…Did I do good?”
Suguru exhales a slow stream of smoke, his dark eyes raking over you before he murmurs—
“Amazin’, baby.”
Toji clicks his tongue, muttering in Japanese—
“Mata hajimatta yo, kanojo o chōshi ni nora seru yōna koto o itte.”
There you go again, hypin’ her head up.
You don’t understand the words—but you know his tone. It makes your eyes well up all over again, tears spilling as you sniffle and wipe at them pathetically—
“‘’M really sorry, Fushiguro…”
Toji watches you—his expression unreadable for a long moment before something softens in his gaze, despite the frustration still lingering there.
He grunts—
“C’mere.”
You crawl toward him on shaky limbs, your tear streaked face pressing into the hard plane of his chest as you quickly swipe at your damp cheeks with the back of your hand. Your sniffles quiet, but your breathing is still uneven—little hiccups of emotion trapped in your throat.
“Stop cryin’.”
“….You’ve never been mad at me like this before,” you whisper, voice trembling, “And I don’t know how to fix it.”
Suguru’s touch ghosts over your thigh from where he lounges beside you, his fingers rubbing slow, soothing circles into your skin—gentle, reassuring.
“I love you so goddamn much. You know that?”
You blink rapidly, fresh tears clinging to your lashes as you nod frantically, your breath hitching.
But Toji shakes his head, lips twisting into a scowl—
“Nah, gotta hear you say it.”
Your lower lip quivers, ”You… you love me…”
And then—
He kisses you.
Not soft. Not sweet.
But hard, possessive—smushing rough, impatient kisses along your jaw, your cheeks, the corner of your mouth—everywhere but your lips, as if punishing you just a little longer.
A faint giggle bubbles up from your chest, escaping through your sniffles—
And that’s when you see it.
The faintest twitch at the corner of Toji’s lips.
His rough palms cradle your face as his dark eyes lock onto yours, “Don’t put me in a situation like that again."
His thumbs swipe under your lashes, wiping away lingering tears.
“I’d lose my goddamn mind if anythin’ happened to you.”
You knew how much you meant to him, and you couldn’t argue with that.
“I love you, Toji.”
And then—
He kisses you again.
Really kisses you.
His lips move over yours like he’s memorizing the shape of them, like he needs to taste your promise. His hands slide into your hair, cradling the back of your head as he deepens the kiss, pouring every ounce of frustration, fear and love into it until your toes curl against the sheets.
When he pulls back, you giggle once more—soft, breathless, so full of love.
“So…’can we be a big happy family again?"
Toji doesn’t even look at Suguru, grunting as he flips the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness.
“Shut the fuck up. We’re all goin’ to bed."
You don’t hesitate—curling instantly into Toji’s side, your leg hooking over his hip, your face nuzzling into the crook of his neck like you’ve done a thousand times before. His arm locks around your waist, dragging you tighter against him with a possessive grunt.
The room settles into silence—warm, safe, finally feeling like home. Until Suguru sighs dramatically, flipping onto his side toward you both—
“No goodnight kiss for me?"
A pause.
“Goddamn, I’m really the third wheel."
And in perfect unison—muffled, half-asleep, you both mutter—
୨୧ from arguing with toji to being bent over the kitchen counter
you don’t even remember how it started.
something about the dishes. or the fact that he left the door unlocked again. or maybe it was the way he rolled his eyes when you reminded him for the third time that you had a long day ahead tomorrow. it wasn’t even that serious—until it was. until voices were raised and words were thrown like knives, sharp and careless. until you were both standing in the middle of the kitchen, chests rising and falling, stubborn silence wedged between you like a wall neither of you knew how to climb.
“you always do this,” you snapped, arms crossed tight over your chest. “you act like nothing matters.”
“that’s because you make a big fuckin’ deal outta everything,” he bit back, jaw clenched. “can’t even breathe without you complainin’ about it.”
that one hurt. it landed, hard and unfair. and he knew it the second your face changed.
you turned to walk away. not because he won. not because he was right. but because if you stayed, you’d cry. and you hated crying in front of him.
but then—his hand caught your wrist.
you didn’t look at him. didn’t say a word.
“baby, i didn’t mean that,” he said, voice low. rough. “you know i didn’t.”
you swallowed hard. blinked fast.
“let go.”
but he didn’t. not yet.
“baby,” he murmured. and suddenly the anger cracked into something else—softer. sorrier. something that tugged at the part of you that always, always gave in.
when you finally turned to look at him, there was a tension in the air that wasn’t quite fury anymore. just heat. static. that dangerous pull that always snapped too tight when emotions ran high.
his gaze dropped to your mouth. and then it was over.
he pulled you in fast—hands gripping your waist, mouth crashing into yours like he needed to say sorry without words. teeth and tongue and breathless, angry kisses. you shoved at his chest, but not to push him away. just to grab at him harder. to feel him.
he muttered your name between kisses like a prayer, like a plea, like he hated how that look on your face made him feel—small. helpless. like the kind of man who didn’t deserve you.
“i‘m sorry,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours. “fuck, baby, i didn’t mean it. you know i didn’t.”
your fingers twisted in the collar of his shirt, jaw clenched tight, trying not to cry. but he was already lifting you and setting you down on the cold edge of the kitchen counter, like he was trying to restart the moment, reshape it into something that didn’t ache.
“i’m an asshole,” he rasped, nosing along your cheek. “i know that. i fuck up. but i’d never—never wanna hurt you.”
his voice cracked. just barely. but it made your chest pull tight.
“let me make it right,” he whispered.
and then he was kissing down your throat, trailing heat along the places that made you weak, pulling your thighs around his hips like he needed you to keep him there. his hands slid up your shirt—slow, reverent now. like you were breakable and he hated that he ever treated you like anything less.
he kissed between your breasts, soft and slow, like penance. and then lower, until he was tugging your shorts down your legs, murmuring, “you’re everything to me, baby. i don’t say it enough, but you are.”
your breath caught when he kissed the inside of your thigh.
“just wanna take care of you,” he said, dragging his mouth up your skin. “show you how sorry i am.”
and then he was eating you out like it was the only thing that mattered. like worship. like he meant it when he said he was sorry. big hands holding your hips down when they jerked, tongue lapping at you with deep, messy strokes that made your head tip back, made your spine arch, made the anger dissolve into something hotter, wetter, needier.
you came with your hands in his hair, gasping his name like a question and an answer and a prayer all at once.
but he didn’t stop there.
he stood up, eyes dark, voice low. “can i fuck you here?” he asked, like it wasn’t already obvious.
you nodded, dazed. “please.”
and he didn’t wait. just dragged his sweats down, lined himself up, and slid in slow—so slow it made you whimper, eyes fluttering shut. he hissed through his teeth, gripping your thighs.
“tight fuckin’ pussy,” he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder. “always takes me so good.”
he moved like he was trying to memorize it. every squeeze. every gasp. every time your nails dug into his shoulders. he didn’t talk much after that—just soft curses and kisses, fucking into you like he meant every thrust to say what he couldn’t.
i’m sorry. i love you. i’m not going anywhere.
he buried his face in your neck, breath stuttering every time you clenched around him. every drag of his cock made the countertop creak beneath you, made your heels press tighter into the backs of his thighs. and he was so deep—so deep you swore he was carved to fit inside you, like there wasn’t a single space left untouched. no part of you unloved.
your arms wrapped around him, not because you were pulling him closer—he was already as close as he could be—but because you needed to hold something real. needed to hold him.
“fuck,” he whispered, voice thick. “you feel too good. i missed this—missed you.”
he kissed the underside of your jaw, then your cheek, then your lips, slow and messy and needy. you could taste yourself on his tongue. could feel the way he trembled just slightly, like he was holding something back.
his hand slid between your bodies, fingers brushing your clit in tight, wet little circles that made your back arch off the counter.
“you close again?” he asked, and you nodded, whimpering.
“gimme it,” he murmured. “cum on me again. c’mon, baby. i need it. need to feel it.”
you cried out when it hit—your whole body curling into him, thighs twitching around his hips, and he let out a sound that didn’t sound human. his hand fisted your shirt, like he was anchoring himself to you, like if he let go, he’d fall apart completely.
“shit—fuck—gonna cum—” he rasped, voice breaking. “can i? inside, baby—need to feel you around me, warm and full, please—”
you didn’t even think before whispering yes.
and he groaned. hips jerking forward as he spilled into you with a broken, desperate cry. it sounded like something he’d been holding in for days. for weeks.
he didn’t move right away. just slumped against you, breath hot and shaky against your collarbone, arms locked tight around your waist like he couldn’t let go even if he wanted to.
and maybe he didn’t want to.
“i mean it,” he said softly, after a long moment. “i’m sorry. i was a dick. i shouldn’t have said that shit. you didn’t deserve it.”
you ran your fingers through his hair, still trying to catch your breath. “i know,” you whispered.
he pulled back just enough to look at you. really look at you. eyes softer than they’d been all night.
“i love you,” he said, voice low. raw. “and i’m gonna keep saying it until you believe it. even when i fuck up. even when you’re mad at me. especially when you’re mad at me.”
your throat went tight.
and when he kissed you again—slower this time, more gentle than anything he’d done that night—it felt like the kind of sorry that mattered.
WORK APPROPRIATE “yes they’re my coworkers. yes they’re my harem.” ☘︎ shinsou x denki x sero x reader ⸻ language, suggestive, lots of flirting, friend group of torture and lust who kiss and touch each other
thank you for reading! ❤︎ consider reblogging, leaving a comment, or shooting me an ask if you enjoyed :3
in which. “i want two bf’s and i want my bf’s to be bf’s” : you walk in on your boyfriends, well … being boyfriends. wrngs. poly!bkdk , handj*b (izuku recv) , language, top!katsuki , bottom!izuku , slight voyereuism , blahblahblah
“i’m back!” you chirped, throwing your keys onto the counter and taking off your shoes. to your surprise, you heard nothing in return. nothing except your room tv on faintly in the distance.
thinking that they probably fell asleep, you made your way to your room.
“mnggh—k-kachaan.”
you stopped in your tracks, assuming you were hearing things. your body grew with chills almost instantly at the sound of your boyfriends voice.
you were no novice to the sound of izuku’s moans, but you were sure you heard wrong.
but still, you stood there waiting for the sound again … just incase
“ohmygod” it came out like one word, broken, breathless and desperate. that was definitely izuku’s voice.
you inched closer to the door. eyes adjusting to the blurry figures you made out through the slit in the door
your mouth dropped open like a hungry dog at the sight in front of you. katsuki and izuku both shirtless and hair wet, sticking to their faces. izuku sat in between katsuki’s legs , back against his chest, face flushed and head thrown back.
you followed katsuki’s hand that stretched over izuku’s abs and into his jogging pants.
“t—to much kacchan, I can’t t-take it”
he squirmed and moaned and whined as katsuki stroked his sensitive tip, fingers glossy from the previous orgasms izuku had spilling all over and down his hands
“then whyre you still cummin’, huh?” izuku could only whimper in response, but it wasn’t enough for katsuki.
katsuki’s other hand suddenly fisted in his green curls, yanking izuku's head back to expose his already marked neck . “huh, you fuckin nerd?” he egged, a smirk playing on his lips while his thumb swipped mercilessly over izuku aching tip.
izuku’s back arched, a cracked moan escaping him lips simply from katsuki’s word and you felt your own legs clenching together
“be…because—mmmgn-”
his teeth grazed izuku’s ear as his stroking hand sped up, squelching obscenely now. “cus’ what.”
izuku’s hips jutted up into katsuki’s wet hand, lips red and puffy from him biting down too hard. he was panting like a dog, his eyes rolling back from overstimulation and the approach of his third orgasm
“tell me” katsuki growled, fingers tightening in Izuku's hair, just on the edge of it being painful. his other hand worked izuku with brutal efficiency, thumb pressing against his slit on every upward stroke. izuku’s thighs trembled, toes curling into the sheets.
his breath hitched, words dissolving into a loud, throaty moan as katsuki twisted his wrist on the next stroke.
your own pulse hammered in your throat, fingers gripping the doorframe as izuku’s voice cracked
“fuuckk—kacchan please..”
“beggin’ ain't a answer” katsuki taunted, slowing his hand just enough to make Izuku whine, hips chasing the friction.
“because!” izuku gave in, thrusting into katsuki hand like a touch starved virgin, the knot in his stomach subsiding slowing “b-because it feels good when you t-touch me like this”
katsuki’s smirk was sharp and victorious. his grip tightened. "yeah?” katsuki hummed although it kinda sounded like a strained moaned “show me. one last time, handsome.”
then he dipped his head, biting down on izuku’s collarbone, tongue swirling around his skin as his hand sped up. wet, filthy sounds filling the room.
“yesyesyes—mmgghfuck i’m cumming—oh god” izuku moaned with a sob, cum splurting and spilling over katsuki’s fingers, and his stomach again.
katsuki didn’t let up, milking him through his entire orgasm. he placed kisses to his temple and forehead until izuku went boneless legs trembling.
shit, your own legs were trembling. the creak of the door opening had them both snapping their eyes towards you, izuku’s face immediately going red.
“oh my god..” you chuckled breathlessly, mouth agape. it wasn’t anything funny and actually you were painfully horny and wet now.
katsuki’s grin was all teeth. he had noticed you long ago but decided to let you creep, the feeling of you there watching only adding to his fuel.
you would think him not being the most built out of all his friends would mean he has the least stamina… but boy are you wrong. kaminari can go round after round, even after he’s already came. he doesn’t feel the need to stop until there’s tears in his eyes— although sometimes, that might just turn him on even more.
and don’t be fooled, he’s the sweetest boyfriend you’ve ever had. so the only time he makes you cry? when you’re under him.
"k-kami~..! *hiccup* c-can’t take it~..!" you cry, the sound of your weeping cunt and his hips rhythmically slamming against your ass filling the room.
"said you missed me.. right baby? shitt, so fuckin’ wet.. said you missed my dick, right?"
you had to go a whole week without seeing him due to you both agreeing (more so, you insisting and him whining about it until giving in) to focus on school until the weekend since you both had exams coming up. so as soon as he got you alone, your poor self stood no chance.
"p-pleasee~..! ‘s t-too muchh~..!"
"aww, don’t cry, baby.. i got you.."
he only fucks you harder, his hand gripping your plush asscheek as try to run away. your hand comes back to weakly grab onto something— or at least plead for mercy, and his hand finds yours in a second. you don’t even know which orgasm you’re about to be on at this point… maybe your 5th?
"hold my hand.. hold my hand. yeah, stay still.. takee that shit baby, mhmm.."
all the whining and crying goes out the window when he brings you to another blissful orgasm, his dick bullying your gspot in the best way possible.
"’m cumming babyy~.. oo fuckk~!"
"fuckk that’s a good girl.. gonna make me nut in that pussy.."
Stepping into Eren’s room always felt like a sensory overload: Metallica, KISS and whatever other posters of bands on his walls, some mixtape of his playing loud as hell and the smell of Marlboro smoke hanging thick in the dark room.
“Ugh–open the fucking window or something” you dramatically coughed, swatting the air with your hand and praying the smoke wouldn’t stick to your new pink jaded London set.
Eren yanked out his earphones and set his drum sticks aside, a devilish grin spreading across his face, his lip ring glinted when he smirked, the one on his eyebrow twitching just slightly.“Msorry pretty princess, didn’t know you were coming” he reached forward and grabbed your thighs, pulling you in closer.
You scuffed “Didn’t see you in class today…”
“Aww, missed me, pretty girl?” His eyes practically sparkled as he tugged at your thighs, forcing you to straddle him.
“Shut up, loser” you face palmed him, falling backward onto the bed. Eren ended up on his back, sprawled across the mattress, and you landed chest to chest on top of him. He grinned up at you, clearly enjoying the closeness, his thumbs rubbing lazy circles against your thighs like he wasn’t in any rush to move.
This was only the third time you and Eren had been alone together. You never even acknowledged him in public hell, you’d laughed about him with your friends before, in his face. The tattoos, the chipped black nail polish, the eyeliner, the rings, the spiked pants, he was everything you swore you’d never touch.
But he liked that. Liked how you pretended you didn’t see him in the halls, then ended up here, melting against him like this. Because when it was just you and him, all that “too good for him” attitude didn’t mean much.
“You so pretty, baby” Eren smiled, wrapping his cybersigil-style tattooed arms around you, thrusting his hips forward “fuck, just looking at you got me hard” he grinned, watching you hold back your whimpers. Eren gently wrapped his hands around your neck, pulling you down to kiss you. You moaned as his tongue slipped past your lips, twirling with yours as his hips kept thrusting upwards, his clothed hard on rubbing up against your clit.
“Mmfuck…” you couldn’t help but audibly moan when he started going faster, grabbing your ass, cold silver rings sending shivers up your spine “Haaa-Ren!” You cried out, rocking your hips back and forth.
“Feels good, baby?” He chuckles, watching the girl who used to make fun of him with her girlfriends aka his crush since forever , griding her pussy on his cock trying to reach her high “Hm, pretty girl gon get her new cute clothes dirty” the boy teased, a breathy moan escaping when you purposely rocked your hips harder
“Ughh–I told you to keep quiet” you covered his mouth with your freshly manicured hands. You could feel that annoying smirk agains the palm of your hand. You stared down at the boy as you rode him, moving your hips faster and faster, enjoying the needy look in Eren’s eyes as he tried to desperately slow you down but it was too late. You watched his eyes roll back, feeling the growing wet spot of his cum agains your clit “Ew..so embarrassing” you got off him and grabbed your little vintage Dior bag.
Eren sat up, still a little dazed, his grin lazy and crooked “Gonna see you at my concert tonight?” he asked, tilting his head, lip ring catching the light.
You paused at the door, adjusting your bag without looking at him.“Maybe,” you said, voice flat but eyes giving you away for half a second.
He watched you walk out, still smiling to himself, the room smelling like smoke and your perfume long after you were gone. Fuck, he was absolutely and ridiculously obsessed with you.
content: dominican!connie, college au, smut with no lick of plot honestly, explicit language, lewd descriptions, teasing, dirty talk, nipple play, tip warming? inspired by this ask & visual.
connie loved nights like this. and you did too.
no work due, no parties clouding your mind, and most importantly no friends to hide your yearning looks and touches from.
the two of you were hidden in your own little cocoon, lo’s misleading your friends into thinking y’all were in two separate places. not quite ready to spill the tea.
all cozy in connie’s off campus apartment his warm body laid atop of yours, resting easily between your plush thighs. the slow deep breathes he took tickled your skin as his head rested just above you navel. connie touched you absentmindedly, fingers massaging into your hip, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles and hooking them with his. your brown skin smooth against that butter yellow nightie set you wore. fingers twirling and splitting his buzzed cut curls, while the two of you melt into the plush bed.
rain pelted on the nearby window as the john wick movies the two of you swore you’d binge casually played on the screen. strong hands pulling you closer as if the two of you couldn’t be any closer.
the fatal crashes of cars and gunshots blurred into background noise as connie took a deep whiff of your skin, that vanilla bourbon perfume oil clouding his senses. placing one lingering peck along your stomach as his strong hands grip at your thighs. hands roughly massaging into your flesh before draping them over his arms and hooking them higher, nearly folding your body in half as that familiar pressure sat along your pelvis.
you knew exactly where this was headed, lips curled into a smile, a teasing hum in your voice once you finally spoke. “conn—”
connie’s voice vibrates against your skin, “hmm?” leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your shoulder, where the straps of your tank had slipped.
a giggle slips past as his lips continue to wander. “thought we were having movie night..” breathing out a low, wanting sigh.
“we are princesa..” a low hum bounced off his chest, murmuring softly against your skin. lifting his head just enough for his low golden brown eyes to meet yours. “i know exactly what i wanna watch.”
open faced grill on display beside his pretty white teeth, as he bit down into his bottom lip. the two of you watching how hard he grew from just resting against you. leading to the familiar buzz in your clit and a heat that creeps up your spine, nipples perking up beneath the smooth fabric of your cami tank.
that buzz growing stronger once the two of you locked eyes, his shirtless body towering over yours with his sharp v-line on display just above his sweats.
then his lips meets yours for a soft kiss, the slightest press of his lips against yours. then another, against your jaw. lingering against your warm skin. trailing down to your neck, sucking softly at that sweet spot behind you ear while his fingers grazed at the hem of your tank. hooking a finger around the frill and tugging it down, the cool air grazing your skin in waves.
holding your heavy breast in his hand while his thumb circles your peaked nipple. “so fuckin’ pretty”
connie’s pink lips wrapping around your hardened brow nipple, sucking slow and deep as it tightened in his mouth. thighs clamping around his waist as a soft whine fell from your lips. groaning against your skin, sending shocks of pleasure from your breast straight down to your slicked clit.
nipping gently at the sensitive bud before sucking hard, soothing that pleasurable sting that made you chest cave while his other hand stayed busy, working at your breast. squeezing and flicking at the squishy bud, switching between the two like a man starved. finally gathering both of your heavy titties in his big hands, before he stops to give them both a soft kiss. doing it again and again until he’s messily suckling your aching nipples. soothing them wet with spit when he finally released them with one last pop.
connie reeled back, spreading your thighs wide. revealing your pulsing clit peeking through your damp thong, slit flooded with slick from every suck and tug of you nipples.
his wet lips spread into a grin, “there she go.. this my favorite part.”
lips sealing around yours once more, tilting his head to fit perfectly with yours. noses brushing against eachothers as the two of you try to swallow each other whole. tracing his tongue along your lips before letting him slip in with ease. sliding against your tongue smoothly before sucking it into his own mouth.
your fingers tangling into his messy curls, sending shocks of pleasure down his spine. grinding down against you slowly. groaning at the feeling of your plush lips against his dick.
then connie breaks the kiss, his eyes still low and red from the woods he faced earlier tonight. looking down at where your hips connected. his own briefs growing damp from gliding over your covered pussy. eyes flickering back to your pretty face, lips all red and swollen with your lip combo smeared all over his face. pinned beneath his muscular body as your nails clutched at his curls. he rolled his hips just right, tip kissing your pulsing clit.
lips hovering above yours as he rubs against you so agonizingly slow, fingers curled so tight around his base as his dick jumps above your clit.
“s-shit con—” swallowing the soft gasp that escaped you.
watching how your plush pussy practically ate your thong. disappearing between those brown two toned lips.
his mind spirales, snipping at that shrivel of restraint left in him. but tonight he wanted to take his time with you, make you feel every piece of him that he wanted to give.
dipping into that sticky mess and hooking his fingers around the slicked fabric of your thong, those pink gummy walls peeking through as he dragging them to the side. elastic snapping as it stretched out against your plush ass.
the quiet pops of the fabric were the last thing you heard before the ringing in your ear began.
thighs spread so far they burned.
his fat mushroomed tip slowly sunk into your pussy. nails grazing at his scalp, with a pout as your pussy stretched around his fat tip.
and my god was your pussy so fucking hot and gushy.
“wet ass pussy..”
slick dribbling down his dick as he began to fill that emptiness inside you. never sinking deeper more a few inches into that clamping hole of yours, moaning in unison at the pressure of him slowly filling you up. “feels s’good papí .”
but connie doesn’t respond, he just hungrily claims your lips. swallowing every moan as he messily sucks at your tongue, before releasing your lips with a pop. the wet schlick of your pussy growing louder with every shallow roll of his hips, your grip on his curls stinging deliciously against you his scalp. earning a deep moan.
“mhm, keep opening that pussy f’me, doing such a good job mamí.”
golden irises locked on that pretty pussy trying to suck him in with every shallow stroke he gives. each one pulling out more of that gushy slick.
“you such a good girl..”
fingers gripping at the fat of your hips as he holds you steady. finally sinking deep, rolling his hip until that fat tip kissed your cervix then slowly pulling out to watch those pink gushy walls grip at his dick so tight.
and the two of you were so fucking loud, moaning and whining against each others mouth, your thighs trembling in his big hands as he kept you spread wide.
it was all to much.. the way his cool chain grazed against your hot skin, the deep moans pooling from his throat, and the disgusting sounds of your creamy pussy making a mess between your thighs.
moans trembling from your lips in long pathetic cries “mmmphshitt, i love you so fuckin’ much papí..”
and how could you not with what he was doing to you. how couldn’t he tell with how tight you were gripping onto his dick with every sloppy thrust. heavy dick dragging slow and deep along your creamy walls, clinging to every vein, curve and pulse of his dick. pussy relaying every message your dick hazed mind couldn’t. “i know you do..”
“look what i’m doing to you.”
“i love you too princesa,” fingers cupping your jaw to get a good look at your face. all fucked out and pretty, tears clinging to your wet lashes. squeezing at your jaw whenever your starts pussy spurting out quick splashes while that thick dick keeps digging you out.
friday nights always started the same. you clocked in, tied your apron around your waist, and caught your reflection in the little steel panel on the cooler.
hair slicked into a bun with your ribbon knotted tight at the base. lip gloss smooth. lashes curled just enough. i mean, you didn’t spend all that time getting ready for nothing.
the printer near the line spat out a slip and you snatched it up before the other servers.
“two pasta bowls, one medium burger, add bacon,” you called out, sliding the ticket onto the rail.
“got it,” connie answered, already moving. his eyes flicked up for half a second, enough to make you raise a brow.
“what?” you asked, resting your hand on your hip.
“nothing,” he said, smirking to himself. “just… bun today? thought you was gonna do the ponytail again.”
you tilted your head, half amused. “you really keeping track of my hairstyles?”
“nah,” he said, turning back to the pan, “just notice things.”
you hummed like you weren’t impressed, but inside you felt that little spark.
walking past again with drinks on your tray, you slowed near the line. “since you notice everything, what color gloss?”
without looking up, he said, “same one as last week. kinda pink.”
you blinked, surprised he was right. “okay… stalker.”
he just chuckled, sliding patties onto the grill. “chef. get it right.”
the kitchen was loud with orders firing and pans clattering but somehow, in those tiny moments, it felt like it narrowed down to just you two. nothing bold, nothing over the top. just subtle little things, like him glancing at your face when you weren’t looking, or you lingering a second too long when you dropped tickets off.
it was the start of another shift, but already you could feel the rhythm pulling you in.
the rush hit fast. tables filling, servers weaving, the printer spitting out orders nonstop. you were on autopilot, smiling at guests, balancing trays, remembering who asked for no onions and extra ranch.
still, every time you came back to the line, it was like your eyes found connie first.
“four wings, one medium steak, side caesar,” you said, clipping the ticket. you leaned in just slightly. “don’t overcook my steak, chef.”
“when do i ever?” he shot back, one brow lifting.
you gave him a look. “last thursday.”
he laughed under his breath, shaking the pan. “okay, you got me.”
later, you ducked into the back to sip water, and when you returned, there was a small plate pushed to the edge of the line. not an order but your lunch. neat little pile of veggies, chicken cut into strips, and sauce drizzled across the top.
“this for me?” you asked, already knowing.
“who else?” he said, eyes still on the grill.
you smiled, sliding it off the line. “you cut my food like i’m a kid.”
“nah. i just make it easy for you,” he answered, smirk tugging at his mouth.
you carried plates out, checked on tables, kept the flow. but in between, you couldn’t help dropping little comments when you passed him.
“chef, that better be my fries.”
“chef, don’t burn yourself.”
“chef, don’t forget table seven’s sauce.”
each time, he’d answer without missing a beat.
“i got you mami.”
“stop worrying about me.”
“you always checking up on me?”
the other servers noticed. one of them rolled her eyes when you laughed at something he said, another whispered a joke when they saw the heart shaped drizzle on your plate. but no one said much. maybe they could feel it too, that quiet rhythm you and connie had built, tucked in the middle of all the chaos.
he worked the line, you ran the floor, and somehow, even in the loudest part of the shift, it always came back to the same thing: those small and steady moments only the two of you seemed to share.
the rush finally broke. the printer was quiet for once, the kitchen air less heavy with steam. a couple tables lingered out front but nothing wild. you exhaled as you stacked cups at the service station, humming a little under your breath.
from the corner of your eye, you caught connie wiping down his station. he had that focused look still but slower now, like he was finally letting himself breathe.
you carried a few chairs to the side, flipped them up onto the tables. when you turned, he was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, just watching.
“what?” you asked, smiling a little.
he shrugged. “bun’s still holding up.”
“it’s called strong edge control,” you teased. “you wouldn’t know nothing about that.”
he laughed, shaking his head. “nah, but i been watching it all night. you ain’t sweat it out once.”
you made a face at him but couldn’t help the laugh that slipped. “you really too observant for your own good.”
“just for you,” he said, quiet but clear.
you busied yourself with stacking more chairs so you didn’t have to answer that directly. but the words lingered.
a couple coworkers passed through, grabbing trays, half listening to the back and forth. one of them shot you a look that half teasing and half knowing but kept it moving.
you went back to wiping down menus at the host stand, pretending like your chest wasn’t warm from such a simple comment.
closing shifts always dragged, but with him there stealing little glances, the drag didn’t feel so bad.
the last table left, lights were dimmed, and the manager finally locked up. everyone spilled out into the cool night air, laughing about tips or complaining about sore feet. you stretched your shoulders, tugging at the knot in your apron, already thinking about sliding into bed.
connie came out a minute later, but not in his chef coat anymore. he’d swapped it for a black t-shirt and gray sweats, a pair of sneakers he probably kept in his car for after shift. seeing him like that threw you a little. no apron, no hat, no line noise. just… him.
he caught your look and grinned. “what? never seen me outside the kitchen before?”
you laughed softly, shaking your head. “nah, it’s just… weird. you look regular.”
“regular’s crazy,” he said, walking past you toward the lot. “this the real me.”
most of your coworkers split off quick, some heading to cars, others walking to the bus stop. soon it was just you and connie, the glow of the parking lot lights stretching across the asphalt.
he leaned against his car, digging in his pocket for keys. “you tryna head straight home?”
“yeah,” you said, then added with a shrug, “unless i get sidetracked.”
his mouth curved. “good. ‘cause i was gonna ask if you wanted to smoke.”
you blinked. “out here?”
“yeah. i got a pack rolled. just chill for a bit before you head out.” he unlocked the car and nodded toward the passenger side. “come on. i’ll even play good music for you.”
you hesitated only a second before walking over, tugging your ribbon tighter like it mattered. sliding into his car felt different, like stepping into his space instead of brushing past him on the line. the seats smelled faintly like cologne and a little weed.
when he climbed in, he glanced at you again, more relaxed than he ever looked behind the grill.
“you good?” he asked with his lighter in hand.
“yeah,” you said while smiling a little. “just… first time seeing you like this.”
he lit up, took a slow drag, and passed it over. “better get used to it.”
you settled into the passenger seat, letting the comment sit in the back of your mind. the car felt warmer than outside, tinted windows cutting out most of the streetlights. the dash glowed faint blue from the stereo.
“what you wanna listen to?” connie asked, scrolling through his phone.
“something chill,” you said as you leaned back. “you pick. i’m curious what a chef listens to when he’s not yelling ‘order up.’”
he snorted. “first of all, i don’t yell. i project.”
the opening chords of some slow r&b track slid through the speakers. it was smooth, bass heavy, and the kind of music you’d usually play getting ready to go out. you raised a brow. “oh, you got taste.”
“of course i do,” he said, sparking the blunt and taking the first drag. smoke curled around his face before he passed it to you.
you inhaled, slow and careful, the familiar burn warming your chest. exhaling, you glanced over at him. out of the chef coat, his tattoos peeked under the sleeve of his t shirt, his chain catching the light when he shifted. he looked… softer. not softer like weak, but softer like less guarded.
“you always this laid back when you’re not on the line?” you asked, handing the blunt back.
“nah. usually more laid back.” he grinned, taking another pull. “you just ain’t seen it yet.”
“hm. so this you without the apron stress?”
“this me regular,” he said, blowing smoke toward the cracked window. “kinda nice, huh?”
you hummed, letting the music fill the quiet. a couple minutes passed, both of you trading the blunt back and forth, the edges of the shift wearing off with every drag.
“you really be paying attention though,” you said finally, head turned toward him.
“to what?”
“my hair. my lip gloss. little stuff. you got a sharp eye.”
he chuckled, tapping ash into the tray. “yeah, well. easy to notice when i’m looking at you all night.”
the words sat between you heavier than the smoke. not bold, not cocky. just honest.
you laughed softly, shaking your head, but your chest felt warm. “you slick.”
“not slick,” he said, voice low, almost casual. “just real.”
the blunt burned down, music still moving slow through the car. you felt yourself sink deeper into the seat, shoulders loose, ribbon still holding your bun tight. you weren’t rushing to leave and he wasn’t either.
connie tapped the ash, eyes cutting over to you. “you high?”
you smiled lazy, “a lil. why?”
he smirked, licking his lips. “’cause you look fine as hell right now.”
you laughed but the sound caught when his hand brushed over your thigh. not slick nor sneaky but just resting there like he was testing how far he could go. you looked at him with smoke still curling in the air.
“you bold,” you murmured.
“nah. just been waiting,” he said with a low voice.
his hand squeezed, warm against your leg under the black work slacks and you didn’t move it away. instead, you leaned closer, breath mixing with smoke when you kissed him. soft at first, then hungrier, lips smearing gloss on his mouth.
he groaned, cupping your face, and next thing you knew you were climbing over the console into his lap. the blunt got stubbed out somewhere and the music still played as you straddled him.
“damn,” he muttered against your mouth as his hands gripped your ass. “you taste sweet as fuck.”
“that’s my gloss,” you teased, rolling your hips slow over his sweats.
“nah. that’s you.”
you felt him hard through the thin fabric, and the weed made everything sharper. the heat between you and the way his chain brushed your chest when he pulled you closer. he helped you tug your pants off, and his fingers slipped under your panties, rubbing slow circles that had your breath hitching.
“fuck… connie—”
“shh,” he whispered, grinning when your thighs shook. “don’t start whining yet. i got you.”
you fumbled with the hem of his t-shirt, dragging it up, wanting his skin on yours. he lifted his arms and let you pull it over his head. tattoos flexed in the dim light, his chest warm against your hands.
when his fingers finally pushed inside you, you gasped, forehead dropping to his shoulder.
“wet as hell already,” he muttered while kissing your neck. “you wanted this bad, huh?”
you didn’t even bother denying it. your body answered for you, clenching around his fingers as he curled them just right.
it didn’t take long before he was tugging his sweats down, freeing himself, thick and heavy against your thigh. your breath hitched.
“you gon fit?” you asked teasingly but serious.
he smirked while guiding you down on him. “guess we find out.”
the stretch had you gasping and your hands braced on his shoulders. he filled you deep, the high making every inch feel overwhelmingly good. you rode him slow at first, trying to catch your breath but he gripped your hips and set the pace, fucking up into you so the car rocked with every thrust.
“shit—connie,” you whined, nails digging into his skin.
“say that again mami,” he groaned, snapping his hips harder. “say my name when you cum on me.”
your moans fogged the windows, mixing with the bass of the music. the world narrowed to just the backseat, just his hands on your body, his voice in your ear. messy, hot, like you’d been waiting forever for it.
and when you finally came, clenching around him, head thrown back, he followed right after, cumming inside, and holding you in place as if he couldn’t let you go.
the car went quiet again except for the music and the sound of both your heavy breathing. your ribbon had come loose, lip gloss smeared, and lashes a little wet but he just grinned as he brushed his thumb over your jaw.
you slid off his lap slow with shaky legs as he tugged his sweats back up, then reached for the pack of napkins stuffed in the console.
“c’mere,” he muttered, gentle now. he wiped you down careful, nothing rushed, making sure you were good before tossing the napkins aside. you leaned back against the seat, catching your breath, and he passed you a cold bottle of water he pulled from the back.
“hydration, chef’s orders,” he teased.
you laughed weakly, taking a long sip. “you really never stop being a chef, huh?”
“gotta take care of my favorite waitress,” he said, grinning.
when he looked at you again, his eyes softened. he reached up, brushing his thumb across your cheek, then stared at the ribbon and edges barely hanging onto your head.
“thought you said strong edge control and ribbon look like it tapped out on me.”
you swatted at him while laughing. “shut up. you the one that made it come loose.”
“yeah… i’ll take the blame for that.”
the music still hummed low in the background, the windows fogged, the world outside feeling far away. he leaned back, arm stretched behind your seat, casual like he hadn’t just wrecked you in the backseat.
“so,” he said after a beat, looking at you with that same lazy grin, “you still think i only look good in the kitchen?”
the next shift felt different before it even started. you tied your apron like always, smoothed your hair into a bun with a fresh ribbon, gloss shining, and lashes fluttering. but the second you stepped onto the floor, you could feel it. last night was still lingering.
connie was already on the line, moving like he always did but when you clipped the first ticket to the rail his eyes flicked up. it was quick, just a look, then back down like nothing. still, it made your stomach flip.
“three chicken sandwiches, one well done burger,” you said, then leaned your elbow on the counter for just a second longer than necessary.
he raised a brow. “you gon’ be standing there all day or you actually working?”
you smirked, whispering low so no one else could catch it. “depends. what’s for dessert?”
his smirk hit quick before he covered it by flipping a pan. “ain’t no dessert on the menu mami,” he said, voice even.
“not on the menu,” you repeated, straight faced, then walked off with your tray.
the other servers were too busy to notice but connie’s head tilted just slightly as he watched you leave, like he was the only one who understood what you really meant.
which he was and it wasn’t loud or obvious. just that quiet promise hanging in the air: later.
you dropped off plates at the line, while brushing loose hairs back from your face, ribbon already threatening to slip loose. connie caught it, eyes flicking there before he went back to chopping, lips twitching like he wanted to say something.
“yo, can i get that pasta up?” one of the other servers called, sliding in between you two.
“relax, it’s comin’,” connie muttered but his eyes were on you as he plated it, drizzling sauce just neat enough. when he slid it over, he didn’t say anything—just tapped the rim twice like it was only for you.
you raised a brow at him. “that for me or the table?”
“you know the answer,” he said quick before turning back to the stove.
later, when you came by with empty plates stacked on your arm, you leaned close enough for your lipgloss to catch the light. “don’t think i didn’t see you showing off with that sauce earlier.”
he gave you one of those side eyes, smirk tugging at the corner. “girl, i don’t gotta show off. you already know what i do.”
the rush picked up, so the flirting shifted quieter to little looks and subtle brushes of your hand when you grabbed trays he was sliding across. once, when you squeezed past him at the sink, his hand barely grazed your hip like it was an accident. it wasn’t.
by the time the rush slowed, both of you were sweaty, tired, and still caught in that undercurrent. you leaned against the counter, wiping sweat from your forehead, bun leaning messy, and ribbon hanging by a thread.
“you really gon let your hair fight for its life like that all shift?” he asked, voice low enough for just you.
“depends. you volunteering to fix it for me?” you shot back.
his smirk deepened, like he’d already filed that one away.
the rest of the staff cleaned up as the energy dropped. someone joked about heading to the bar after and a couple of the servers waved goodbye. soon enough, it was just you and connie again, the hum of the walk in cooler and clink of silverware the only sounds left.
you stacked menus, he scrubbed down the line, and every now and then your eyes met in the dim light, the same thing circling back.
last night. the blunt. the backseat.
you tied your apron up tighter, teasing without even saying anything. he clocked it.
“you still thinkin’ about dessert?” he asked finally, voice casual but weight sitting under it.
you didn’t look up from wiping down the host stand. “depends who’s serving.”
he laughed under his breath, shook his head, and you knew it was only a matter of time before “later” became right now.
closing was basically done. chairs flipped on tables, floors mopped, only the hum of the cooler and the faint drip of the coffee machine left. you untied your apron slow, folding it over your arm, when connie leaned on the counter, wiping his hands on a rag.
“yo,” he called soft. you looked up. “c’mere for a second.”
you raised a brow but walked over, sneakers squeaking on the tile. “what, you need help stacking pans again?”
“nah.” he nodded toward the back. “walk with me.”
the cooler door creaked as he pulled it open, the cold air rushing out against your warm skin. you gave him a look. “really? in here?”
“ain’t nobody around,” he shrugged, stepping inside first. “besides, you said dessert.”
you laughed low, shaking your head, but followed him in. the chill had you rubbing your arms until he pulled you close, big hands warming your waist. the dim light above buzzed faintly, casting everything in a bluish glow.
“so this the kinda service i get for stayin’ late with you?” you teased, lips curving.
he bent down just enough so his words brushed against your glossed mouth. “nah, this the kinda service only you get.”
you were the one to kiss him first this time, lips cold from the air but heat sparking quick between you. his hands slid down, gripping just enough to let you know he wasn’t here to play.
the kiss turned messy fast, your back pressing into the metal shelving. you gasped when something dug into your hip—just a carton of produce but it made him laugh against your mouth.
“gotta make do,” he murmured, tugging at the bow of your ribbon till it slipped loose. “better.” your lipgloss smeared on his mouth, your lashes brushing his cheek when you pulled him deeper. the cold air had your skin goosebumped, but his touch burned, fingers sliding under your shirt slow, tracing along your stomach.
“you always gon sweet talk me with food before you fuck me?” you asked, voice breathless but teasing.
he smirked, kissing down your jaw. “only you.”
his hands slid lower, hooking under your thighs till you were lifted onto the cold metal shelf. the chill shocked through your legs but the heat of him pressed in quick, kissing you like he hadn’t been waiting all damn shift for it.
your skirt rode up easy, ribbon loose, lipgloss smeared across his mouth. his fingers traced the hem of your panties before tugging them aside, the cold air hitting you right before his thumb dragged slow over your slit. you shivered but it wasn’t from the temperature.
“always so fuckin’ wet for me,” he muttered, low and rough against your mouth.
“shut up and fuck me, connie,” you whispered back, voice breaking a little.
he grinned, teeth flashing, and undid his belt quick. you could hear the faint metal clink echo in the cooler, then the sound of him spitting in his palm before stroking himself once.
when he pushed in, the breath left your lungs. cold air around you, but inside it was all stretch and burn and heat. you grabbed onto the edge of the shelf, nails tapping against the steel, his hands tight on your waist as he sank in deeper.
“fuck,” he groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “you feel too good.”
the rhythm picked up messy, shelves rattling just enough that you both stifled a laugh between moans. your legs wrapped tight around his waist, sneakers slipping a little against the metal.
he fucked you like he owned every sound spilling out of you, grip bruising your hips, the kind of stroke that had your head falling back, lashes fluttering.
“you always gon tease me with that ribbon and then act surprised when i take it?” he panted, tugging lightly at your loose hair.
you gasped, voice shaky. “was hopin’ you would.”
he cursed low, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, the cold of the cooler making every slap of skin sound louder, dirtier. your gloss was gone by then, smeared all over him, your lipgloss stained laugh cutting through the hum of the fan when he angled just right.
“connie—” his name hit sharp off your tongue when you came, body curling in around him, legs shaking tight.
he gritted his teeth, buried deep, and followed you there, warmth spilling into you even as your breath puffed in cold clouds around his shoulder.
for a second it was just the sound of both your breathing, ragged and heavy, shelf trembling under you. then he pulled back, tucking himself in quick, tugging your skirt down like nothing happened.
but his thumb smoothed over the corner of your mouth, wiping the last of your gloss, and his smirk came back slow.
“dessert hit like it was supposed to.”
the cooler door hissed shut behind you and the blast of warmer kitchen air hit your skin like a blanket. your legs still felt shaky, your ribbon hanging half untied, hair a mess around your shoulders.
connie glanced at you, lips still swollen, then grabbed a water bottle off the counter and cracked it open. he held it out.
“sip. you soundin’ like you left your lungs in there.”
you rolled your eyes but took it, the cold water easing your throat. when you handed it back, his thumb brushed your gloss-stained lip, wiping off a smudge you missed.
“messy,” he teased, voice soft but cutting straight through.
“whose fault is that?” you shot back, adjusting your skirt.
he just laughed under his breath, reaching out to catch the loose ribbon that was slipping further from your bun. with one hand he tried to retie it but the knot was crooked, hanging off to the side.
“you not even tryna help me,” he said, shaking his head.
“you don’t got the skills,” you grinned, tucking the ribbon into your apron pocket instead.
the last bit of the cleanup was silent except for little jokes, your bodies brushing when you passed, his hand grazing your back when he moved past you with a tray. it wasn’t the same silence as before though—now it was heavier, filled with what just happened, what it meant.
by the time you were both locking up, he gave you that same half smirk, keys jangling in his hand.
“so… you gon be askin’ for dessert every shift now?”
you shrugged, lips curving. “depends if the chef’s special is worth it.”
he shook his head, pulling his hoodie over his head. “girl, you gon be the death of me.”
you had just moved in with izuku midoriya. it was a small, two bedroom apartment that was the cheapest you could find as a college student. he had already been living there before you moved in, which made the move a little awkward. he was an awkward guy at heart, you could tell, but you could also tell that he meant well. he was always nice to you no matter what, and not that fake nice guy act. genuine kindness.
you’d never even think that he’d have a pervy side to him, let alone a very sexual one at all. he seemed very vanilla to you, oh how you were so wrong.
izuku had taken a liking to you… it’s not his fault! you were just so hot– and lived with him. he saw parts of you that other people didn’t get to, saw you comfortable and not trying to impress anybody. the one problem was, you had a boyfriend. he always wondered why you didn’t just move in with him, he even asked. you told him you two just weren’t at that stage yet.. that gave him a little glimmer of hope.
he wasn’t a homewrecker. he didn’t wanna be! he would never wanna get in the way of a relationship, let alone ruin it. but what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you, right?
his plan was to just be very… discreet about his perverted ways. i mean, he’d already kept it a secret his whole life! what’s a little while longer? the thing is, izuku was horrible at keeping secrets. or at least being sneaky about stuff.
you totally knew that he had a huge crush on you. you didn’t hate it, he’s hot. but you didn’t wanna cheat on your boyfriend and ruin his trust in you! he already trusted you enough to move in with a guy, to betray him like that would just make him insecure forever. probably make him way too possessive and controlling to his next girlfriends– and you didn’t wanna do that to another woman! a twisted form of girl code.
you swore to yourself you would never do anything with izuku midoriya. for your boyfriends, and the female populations sake. you were doing the whole world a favor, really. but you didn’t stop him. or even confront him. never move out. maybe you even encouraged it a little bit– what could you say? you liked the attention! who doesn’t? izuku was many girls dream guy. and for him to fawn over you? oh, it felt good.
he wasn’t as discreet as he thought he was being. i mean, living with the girl he liked was a goldmine he’d never experienced before. of course he’d go crazy, get a little cocky. you noticed articles of your clothing going missing, random items of yours somehow ending up in his room, his wandering eyes. sometimes he’d even peep at you while you were showering or changing, like a little peeping tom. it boosted your ego immensely.
you’d always be a little louder than needed while masturbating, sometimes even cracking open the door a little bit to wait for his eye to peak through. you were especially loud with your boyfriend, though. you always had been, why be ashamed of sex? but you amped it up a lot after knowing of izuku’s attraction.
your boyfriend knew about this little exhibitionist kink of yours, and he indulged in it. times before this, you’d never gone as far as to keep the door open even just a crack. but now, you wanted to so bad. wanted to see if izuku was really that perverted that he would watch another man fuck you. it got you going.
you concealed your true intentions from your boyfriend with the excuse that you just wanted to go farther– nothing to do with izuku. you said you were sure he wouldn’t wanna peak anyways, that he was too respectful of a guy to do that. that it was all about the risk for you. you were such a good liar.
your legs were wrapped around your boyfriends waist, bed shaking and creaking as he pounded you into the mattress. both your moans were so loud you were sure your neighbors could hear, and you’d been going at it for a while now, already a little overstimulated. your head kept turning to look at the crack in the door, waiting for izuku to come look. you knew he was home.
your boyfriend didn’t even notice your eyes frequently wandering away from him towards the door, how oblivious. izuku hadn’t come yet, and you were starting to get a little impatient. you concluded that he wasn’t as perverted as you thought he was– but still a pervert! you decided to finally give your attention to your sweet boyfriend who was fucking you so meanly :(
your head unconsciously lulled to the side, your boyfriend fucking you stupid. you gained all consciousness back as your eyes met with izuku’s. his eyes widened and he was about to skedaddle away to pretend like nothing happened until he saw the smirk that grew on your face. he finally realized that you liked this. and you were doing it on purpose.
you didn’t break eye contact as you wrapped your arms around your boyfriends neck, pulling his head to meet at the junction between your shoulder and neck so he wouldn’t see izuku. you were sure he would yell at him, maybe even get violent. definitely make you move out, though. you didn’t wanna see your sweet little roommate hurt, never.
your eyes run down his amazing figure as your boyfriend sucks and nips at your neck, whispering the dirtiest things in your ear. you spot his hand palming at his dick through his boxers, pants already unzipped with no shame. it made you moan out louder, eyes snapping back up to meet with his.
your whole body moved at the force of your boyfriends thrusts and you threaded your hands into his hair. you felt your climax approaching, and watching izuku jerk off was only making it arrive faster.
you held eye contact with him as you reached your high, legs shaking and breathy calls of your boyfriends name falling off your lips. he pulled out and watched as the mixture of your guys’s cum leaked out of your throbbing hole, and immediately pulled you into a passionate kiss.
spit dribbled down your chin when he pulled away, you looked back to the door just to see izuku gone.
bakugou wanted to taste the new lip gloss he got for you. his softened eyes follow your gentle swiping movements on your lips. the words spill out before he can stop them.
“lemme taste it, baby,” he rasped, tilting your head to face him.
you smiled, closing the distance between you two. the kiss—if you can even call it that—was quick. too quick for bakugou’s liking.
when you pull away from him, he licks his lips, crimson eyes never leaving yours. then he smirked, lazy and boyish. his stubborn dimple appeared on his cheek. “didn’t taste shit,” he murmured. “c’mere.”
and then you guys are making out. teeth clashing, fingers tangled in hair, heavy breathing. you can feel him smiling into the kiss as his hands roamed your body. this was all part of his plan. you knew he was lying about not tasting anything. you guys pull apart, and he’s like, “too sweet,” and scowls.
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