thinking about marrying logan and him not being able to wear the ring because it would fly across the room whenever his claws would come out.
so you compromise by placing it on a necklace! he wears it around his neck and toys with it whenever he’s bored. tugs it from side to side on the chain, and fidgets with it with his thumb and finger. before he goes out, he always makes sure it’s tucked underneath his shirt because he deems it safer that way. he likes how warm it feels because of the temperature of his skin that the ring is pressed against.
and as for you; you like watching it dangle right above your face whenever he’s on top of you, panting heavily and stretching you out, grunting your name softly as you drag your nails down his strong back in pure pleasure. the golden band always gleams so prettily in the setting sun or the light of the television that you’ve gotten too busy to watch. gleams just like his chest does because of the sweat that’s sitting on it.
you place your hand over his heart just to see the matching rings next to each other. sometimes they clink together — quietly, sure, but not nearly enough for his sensitive hearing to not be able to pick it up.
it never fails to make his grip tighten around your hips. he squeezes, pushes in deeper, tests your limits. hunches his back, leans down, and licks the side of your neck.
Logan would probably moan like he’s having the best sex of his life from just a shoulder massage. Do you think he’d deny he needs one? Or would you catch him off guard while he’s asleep?
18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: friends to lovers, unexpected mutual pining, logan realises he’s touch-starved after you offer to give him a backrub, and you both get turned on by it.
divider credit: div1nepetal
what if you’re, like… his friend, who’s grown to care deeply about him over the years and wants nothing else but to help him out a little from time to time in simpler, more ‘humanly’ ways because of said caring?
i mean, he’s got super fast healing and all that jazz, sure, however that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t get sore and thus — unbearably — cranky about it… and since you’ve known each other for so long, you’ve also gotten quite comfortable in each other’s company! so it wouldn’t be that odd if you were to offer to relieve the pain in your friend’s back when he swings by your place one random evening… right?
it’s really just to make him feel better, nothing else! because as soon as he flings himself onto his favoured spot on your worn out couch (a dent that he fucking made with the help of his heavy adamantium ass), you catch him repetitively stretching his neck from side to side and rolling his shoulders every so often with a furrowed brow and a tight-lipped expression that somehow manages to appear even grumpier than his usual neutral.
you steal glances because of it. listen intently to the laboured sighs he keeps letting out. and after leering at him and his struggles from the corner of your eye for a little while, not at all paying attention to the movie that you’re supposed to be watching with him, you finally succumb. you turn to the side and propose your offer whilst wiggling your magic fingers, as you like to call them, right in front of his face, and logan, as is expected, denies it by gently swatting your hand away.
taking over pretty much the entire space on the couch from how he’s manspreading, he doesn’t even peel his eyes from the television that — unlike you — he’s actually watching when he tells you that, “you don’t gotta worry about it” and that it’s not that bad, then. for some reason, he even feels the need to add that he can handle himself just fine.
it all makes your eyes roll.
and instead of listening, you rather choose to persist. he’s a wall whenever he makes up his mind on something, you know this, but you also know that if you nag him and scold him for long enough, prodding and picking at the cracks between phantom bricks, he’ll have no choice but to give in and give you what you want just to make you stop… though not without adding a snide comment or two himself during it because he can’t help but act like a dick sometimes around the people he’s fond of, it’s just the way he is!
as you tell him to scooch over and lay on his stomach, you feel just a little bit bad that you had to resort to annoying him in order to being allowed to help him. however, the guilt isn’t nearly as strong as is the sense of victory that you’ve just achieved, so you allow it to curl the corners of your lips into a satisfied, cat-like smile while you busy yourself by straddling the small of his back. he can’t see your face anyway, so what’s the issue?
meanwhile, logan lets out a tired exhale, smushing one cheek against the decorative pillow that he’s folded his arms under so that he can still watch the tv while you work your supposed magic. he listens to your sheepish apology and request to tell you if you’re too heavy, to which he responds by calling it nonsense and that you’re insulting him by thinking you’re heavy whilst sitting on top of a guy who’s literally filled with metal.
and filled with metal he is, indeed! it’s not long before you realize just how much freaking pressure you have to apply to his shoulders and back in order to make him feel something. how much physical strength you have to put into it, to the point that you’re nearly sweating because of it. popping a bone in order to ease some of the tension is literally impossible, so you aim your focus onto the taut cords of muscle instead.
you can see them even through the thin white shirt that he’s wearing — they’re that profound. flexed and attractive, attained with hard work. but they become even more visible when he reluctantly lets you roll the hem of his shirt up towards the collar, unfolding his arms just so that he can lift the upper half of his body, and you right along with him, with no visible effort whatsoever.
the air in the room shifts a little after that; it gets kind of tense. because all of a sudden, you’re skin to skin. his should be covered in scars, but he’s lucky enough to have them all healed and smoothed away by his power. and while he may not be able to feel relief in his adamantium-covered bones, he sure as hell can feel the warmth of your palms running down the slopes of his broad shoulders, the grazing of your nails that nearly makes him shiver when they reach a particularly ticklish part on the nape of his neck, the heat between your legs as you continue to sit on him, dressed in nothing else but a pair of comfortable and tiny shorts…
forcing himself to be a loner, logan isn’t used to being touched like this all that much, and it makes him sensitive. and as a result, he can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut and groan in absolute pleasure when you readjust by wiggling your hips on top of him and lean in super close to really dig your fingers into his strong back.
you pause at the sound; he can hear your breathing hitch a little before it continues to fan his shoulder blade. he’s already halfway on opening his mouth to say something in order to avoid things from getting too awkward even if he’s not the kind of man who minds if they do, when all of a sudden it hits him.
it’s barely there, just the faintest whiff of something sticky and sweet. it would be impossible to catch by a normal human, but he isn’t a normal human, now is he? no, he’s a mutant — a primal one, at that — and because of it, his nose is more than capable of catching a scent like this.
you’re… aroused. have gotten turned on by the sound he just made. are getting wetter between the legs by the second. and he can smell it.
fuck.
logan chooses not to say anything even if the pheromones that he’s steadily inhaling now are making his blood grow feverish to dangerous levels. meanwhile, you choose to remain quiet as well, simply continuing your ministrations as if nothing has happened.
something that does change, however, is the way you touch him. from that hiccup onward, you get more, should you say, intimate with it; even daring to comb your fingers through his rich, dark hair at some point and experimentally tugging at the roots, making him actually shiver this time.
he doesn’t just shiver, though. the action is so freaking good that it also causes his eyes to roll into the back of his head — he silently prays that he’s managed to squeeze them shut for a second time before you could catch it.
and that’s not all there is to it either. by now, his cock has become painfully hard in his pants. thick, hot and leaking pre-cum from how excited he’s getting. it makes laying down on his stomach extremely uncomfortable, but he thinks it’s better to suffer through it than enabling you to see what you’re doing to him both physically and mentally.
mind fogged by a mixture of your and now his own lust, he’s getting so horny that all he wants to do is rut into the couch while you continue to touch him. he doesn’t, of course, he’s been around for over two centuries so he’s pretty good at restraining himself, however that doesn’t mean that he likes doing it.
so he remains decent… well, somewhat. he pants a little bit, and he grunts and curses under his breath in a way that makes him sound like he’s balls deep in your cunt, folding you in a mating press and pounding away until you’re nothing but a whiny mess and his cum is trickling down your thighs, but he still tries his very best.
by the time you pat him on the shoulders and tell him you’ve finished, he fears he did, too.
hi omgg do you think you could write something about the reader getting hit with an aphrodisiac while out then it slowly begins to take effect at a hashira meeting and u choose if it continues with them still at the meeting or their so!hashira noticing and leaving with them? Even if u cant, I'm happy either way,, you're a great writer and I loved that rengoku aphrodisiac fic u wrote!!-🐷💫 anon
You notice a familiar presence in your room not long after you’ve excused yourself from the Hashira meeting and your face had hit the pillow.
When you look up from your bed, Tengen’s body might just be as big as the door that he now promptly shuts behind him. He’s eyeing you carefully, taking note of the awfully disheveled state you’ve wound up in, but is choosing to not comment on it.
“Tengen,” you croak. Your voice has gone completely hoarse in the midst of an hour. “What are you doing in here?”
“What do you think?” he says. “I came to check up on you. You left in a hurry.”
“Did I?”
“Outright stumbled your way outta the meeting,” he says. “Sanemi thought you had one too many.”
You hear a soft click as the lock clicks in place, but not much else as your partner/whatever-he-is-supposed-to-be-after-one-kiss begins to approach the bed you’re still laying on. Despite the fact that you can see him, his footsteps remain completely silent.
You feel yourself shiver. Being the loudmouth that he tends to be, it is easy to forget that Tengen used to be a shinobi in his past. A master at concealing his presence, it is no wonder that you were only able to sense him after he had already entered your room.
Said loudmouth now rests his palm on your forehead, seemingly checking your temperature. His eye patch glints, reflecting the first rays of light for a brief moment as he leans in, bending his upper half over you.
Your exhale is trembly and it grows laboured by the time he cups your cheek in order to inspect your further. He looks you directly in the eyes; hums after observing how huge your pupils have gotten and how they continue to expand to obscene size the longer he holds eye contact.
You squeeze your thighs together underneath the covers as his scent invades your senses. His hand is so big - he’s so big. The whole entirety of him. The morning sun shines on his strong back now, making him look almost ethereal above you with all that muscle, and your clothes are beginning to feel too tight on your body because of it.
“What happened?” he asks finally.
“Fought a demon on my way back and got hit by some form of aphrodisiac,” you explain crudely. The saliva you swallow down is runny. You’re salivating at the mere sight of him. “I think it’s starting to take effect. Or maybe it’s getting worse because you’re here.”
He sits down on the bed. The mattress groans under his weight. You immediately inch closer to him.
“Did you kill it?”
You let out a small, unwilling whimper.
“Of course I did.”
He muses.
“Attagirl.”
“Was locking the door necessary?” you breathe, still trying to claim your normal voice back. Now that he’s closer, that he’s touching you, you feel as if there is a knot forming inside your throat, your stomach.
Your vision spins. Your eyes have become so heavy-lidded that it’s hard to keep them open.
“Don’t want anyone else barging in here,” he says softly as he starts to pet your cheek, your hair. His fingers travel lower then, to the side of your neck, your collarbone. If you were a cat, you’d purr. Instead, you just arch your back, pushing further into his touch, striving to get more of it. “After seeing the state you’re in, I figured we’ll need some privacy.”
Your temperature rises even higher at the subtle hint. At the way the pads of his fingers glide over your skin because of the sweat there. You want to lick it right off, to taste the salt. To coat his fingers in just enough drool that the glide will be nice and slick when he finally decides to push them between your legs to ease your burden a little bit.
Instead, he pushes your robe to the side; just enough to expose your shoulder. Nothing more.
He smiles then, the grin infuriatingly shit-eating. Infuriatingly him.
You get a sense that this is going to be a very long, very thorough morning.
having this really specific — and kind of goofy — thought about getting a tiny rubber duck as like a joke gift for your boyfriend yuuji, and him making sure it’s turned around whenever you guys fuck in the shower.
you’re having a full blown make out session and the water is hot as it runs down you both — yes, you’re squeezed together that tightly. his pink hair is dripping wet, it sticks to his forehead, and his mouth has formed into this adorable ‘o’ shape as he pants and stammers and grunts from how good your touch feels as you stroke him.
he’s got one palm pressed against the tiles that you’re leaning against, the other one is cupping your pussy. his fingers lazily circle your clit as his tongue tangles with yours; the tips nudging your warm entrance every so often and gathering the sticky arousal there before it can be washed away by the water because he knows he won’t be able to push that fat cock of his into you otherwise when the time comes for it.
however, when that time does indeed come and you hint at getting slammed, yuuji is pulling back, his honey-coloured eyes suddenly open wide. he’s still breathing like he’s just ran a marathon instead of standing in the shower and his broad chest heaves up and down as he turns his head to the side in one sharp movement; right in the direction of the spot where you both keep your shampoo bottles.
“yuuji…? what’s wrong?” you ask, eyelids still heavy with lust. it makes your vision somewhat blurry.
“just a sec,” he rasps, searching amongst the bottles. “gotta make sure we don’t have an audience.”
“an audience?” you repeat.
“yep!” he says, popping the p. “i meant this little sucker right… here.”
after a little rummaging, he finds the thing he’s been looking for: a small rubber ducky that you’d gotten him months ago as a means to cheer him up after he’d had a particularly bad day.
you watch, brow quirked in quiet amusement, as he carefully flips it around then, making sure it remains in the same exact spot, but this time with its little beak turned towards the shower wall instead of you.
he treats it with such care, like it’s made out of gold instead of plain vinyl. knowing him, he probably does see it that way and it makes you huff a laugh.
he’s just so goddamn endearing, isn’t he?
seemingly pleased with his actions, yuuji swiftly focuses his attention back to you. he smiles that beaming lover boy grin that you feel weak in the knees for, and his hands are loving but firm as he grabs you by the hips, silently urging you to press your front against the tiles instead of your back.
“okay, your turn now.”
with how hard he is, something tells you he won’t treat you as gently as he did his present.
i want to ride yuuji so bad and then start crying cause he’s so thick and big and then have his strong arms wrap around me and then he starts thrusting up and we’re both drooling and moaning that would be a dream
18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: good girl, good girl, GOOD GIRL!
he’s cooing at you while caressing your cheeks and wiping your tears away, and it’s all so goddamn sweet that it outright hurts; in a good way, though.
always in a good way when it’s with him.
especially because he does it so effortlessly? being kind is like second nature to someone like yuuji and it’s hard not to melt into a puddle of gooey emotions and spill even more tears when he’s looking up at you with hearts in his warm honey-coloured eyes and there’s this prominently lovestruck look on his face that makes him look even dumber than he already is.
but he’s also cute, awfully so. his hair is an absolute mess, his lips are in the colour of dark pink from all the kissing, his cheeks are flushed, and his skin burns so hot that he’s sweating like crazy underneath the thick hoodie that he’s still got on. you’ve been in such a rush to get him inside you that you’re both still completely dressed, aside from the bits of clothing that have been tugged down and pushed to the side in order to make the entire thing easier for you, of course.
however, having all these layers on is simply excruciating. the heat makes him pant and causes his chest to heave in a faster rhythm than normal; and all those breaths make it somewhat hard to get all the praise that he feels for you out of his system.
but yuuji is no quitter. so he swallows the runny saliva that keeps on gathering in his mouth between sentences and threatens to spill past the corner of his lips. it’s audible and it makes his adam’s apple bob in his throat, and yet he still manages to thank you in hushed, trembling whispers and broken grunts and moans.
he thanks you for being such a good girlfriend; for being so willing to give it a chance when it comes to riding him and taking him in all the way, despite the fact that it’s only been a couple of days since he’s taken your virginity and your most sensitive parts are still sore and tender from all the gentle pounding — but pounding nevertheless — he had done after getting his first taste.
you feel heat sear your face as you listen to the jumble of gratitude he’s putting before you and look at him from underneath your lashes, trying to not pay mind how tears still cling to them as stubbornly as ever.
this entire thing has not gone the way you’ve imagined it to go at all and it’s frustrating as hell. and how couldn’t it be? i mean, you’ve known how big he is, have known how it feels to have him inside you, but jesus fucking christ, this position is nowhere as easy as missionary had been — and even then you’d struggled a great deal.
because now, you’re the one who has to do all the work while he sits there, looking pretty, sometimes eyeing how your arousal glistens on his pubic hair, even though your clit hasn’t come anywhere near to kissing the spot from how much of a hard time you’re having when it comes to sitting on his dick entirely.
if only you could just—
“hey,” he says the word with such care as he cups your cheek that it sends butterflies twirling in your belly. his hand is just so big, it urges you to pet yourself against it like a little kitty. “you okay?” yet another look that’s brimming with concern is thrown your way. “we don’t have to do this if it’s too much, you know… just tell me.”
“did you really mean all that?” you mumble the exact moment his hands reach for your hips, clearly aiming to manhandle you into a position that you’d be able to endure a bit better.
“mean what?” he asks, glancing downwards just for a second as your hands stop his own. his cock twitches in response — he’s always been such a sucker for hand holding and this time is no exception. when your fingers intertwine, his heart sings in answer.
“that i’m a good girl?” the eye contact that you initiate in return is determined instead of anxious all of a sudden and it makes his pupils visibly dilate right in front of you.
it seems like you’re no quitter either.
“‘course i did,” yuuji replies in a heartbeat, cherishing how you squeeze around him whenever he gives you his approval, his praise. “you’re such a good girl, my good girl, the goodest girl to ever walk the good girl planet... they should make you mayor of goodie town.”
you giggle at that and his smile quivers with pleasure from how it makes your pussy tighten even more. he’s doing everything he can not to grab you, press you against his chest and just follow instinct and start slamming away.
maybe next time… maybe you’ll be ready for it next time.
“you’re so silly,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, though this time on the forehead. his skin tastes salty, and while it may be wrong, knowing that you’re not the only one that’s having a hard time right now makes you feel just a little bit calmer.
unbeknownst to you, the fact that you’re more relaxed allows you to take yet another inch of him inside you. your muscles slacken and his fat cockhead drags against your walls as a result, slipping and pushing in, in, in. the ring of cloudy white slick forms just a little below the lower half of his cock now, stretching you further and making your tummy feel hot and tingly.
it’s definitely progress.
and it makes poor yuuji moan straight into your mouth.
okay but all in all naruto would make a decent knight... not the one in charge of everything that's for sure, but maybe this makes it even easier to rope him into doing these things that he knows he shouldn't....
oh my goshhh, yes… he reminds you of a puppy when you first lay eyes on him; even more so by the time several months pass and you get to know him better and fall in love with him - with his charm, his grin, his heart, the sunlight which seems to live inside him.
he’s eager to please and painfully naive, and he harbours such a tremendous amount of awe and dedication for you, his lady, that he will do anything, anything you ask of him.
and that also means that he will agree to sneak you out of the castle late at night, when everyone is fast asleep aside from the two guards who stand watch at the gate, surely his comrades, and who now conveniently decide to turn a blind eye after spotting two figures slipping past, heading towards the nearby forest.
and then, when you’re alone in the woods with him, nothing but the sound of the breeze swishing between the trees and the low chirp of insects filling your ears, he’ll obediently come to a stop when you reach out to tug on his sleeve, moonlight reflecting in his pretty blue eyes that don’t appear blue at all in the dark at that moment, and he’ll smile warmly and ask what you want him to do next.
and then you’ll take his hand with both of yours and you’ll guide him a couple of steps forward, until your back is pressing against a tree, the ridges digging into your spine, and you’ll guide that same hand to the side of your face, making him caress it, feeling the warmth of his palm, and you’ll utter something along the lines of i want you to take me now and you’ll nearly tremble in anticipation, the buzz, the excitement of it all.
when he finally lets your request sink in and leans in to tentatively press his lips to yours, it’s done so with caution at first, a mere whisper of a kiss, like he almost doesn’t believe that you’d ask him of doing such a thing. he shudders when you respond by immediately wrapping your arms around his neck and opening your mouth a fraction wider; gets increasingly more hungry with each passing breath you exchange with him.
before you know it, he’s everywhere all at once. starved for touch, aching and desperate and insatiable and still so, so eager. like he’s been waiting for you to give him a taste for all his life. he presses you further up against the tree, makes you gasp at the uncharacteristically brute force behind it, in the way he deepens the kiss and lets out almost a whine-like sound when he grabs both sides of your face and shoves his tongue inside your mouth now.
his whole body aligns itself with yours. you are so close that you don’t know where your chest ends and his begins. he messily kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, then buries his face into your neck. he pushes even closer and his hips buck forwards brazenly, like they have a mind of their own, like he doesn’t have manners, and you can immediately tell how badly he desires you - as if the kissing didn’t tell you enough already.
the hardness of him that you feel now pressing against you and which reminds you that he might be kind and sweet but is still a man at his core causes you to whimper out a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before. he silences it by greedily putting his mouth on yours again, almost like he wants to swallow it, to make it a part of himself. you can taste him, smell him, feel him, all his want, all his intensity, all that sunlight; it makes you arch your back, away from the tree and further into him. you wish to be full of him, of his warmth.
but then, he suddenly pulls back. breaks the kiss.
he’s panting when you peer up at him from underneath your lashes. his chest rises and falls in quick motions, his face is feverish, you can feel the heat of his forehead as he rests it on yours. his thumb strokes your bottom lip. you wince at the slight pain his teeth must have left behind.
when he speaks, he isn’t formal. however, that is to be expected, since he hasn’t spoken formally a day in his life.
“i need to take you back to the castle first.”
you blink, dumbfounded.
“back to the castle?”
“yes,” he says, taking a step back. his voice is hoarse but when he looks at you again, his eyes are full of that same warmth that you now miss feeling on your skin. “gotta do it the proper way.”
hmmm thinking about bratty, shit disturbing omega reader telling alpha kiba 'ooo you wanna breed me so bad' during a petty argument when they're not even together and it resulting in him putting you in a non-con mating press.....
18+ MDNI, fem!omega!reader // cw: noncon, omegaverse, breeding, reader is in heat and kiba is MEAN about it.
wait, this is actually perfect; there’s just something about omegaverse and kiba that makes such a good combo every single time!
i’m thinking about him being your neighbour. he’s nice on the eyes but he’s also grouchy, not much of a talker, and always seems super tense whenever you bump into each other in the hallway or at the entrance leading into your apartment complex.
and when i say tense, i mean tense. your mailbox resides next to his, so if you by any chance come down to get mail at the same time as him, he’s clutching his bills with a white-knuckled grip and is storming right back upstairs and slamming his door shut with an unnecessarily loud thud before you’ve even finished sticking your key into the tiny lock.
while living so close to each other, you’ve tried being polite towards him on several occasions. have greeted him with a smile and a quick “morning!” or “hi!” even though all he did in response was grumble something under his breath and brush you right off. you even went as far as to ask him how his run went when he came back into the building drenched in sweat and with his cheeks flushed a pretty red one time, but to no avail. the face he pulled made him look like he was seconds away from telling you to fuck off.
all signs point to general dislike no matter what you do, so winning him over just for the sake of having a good relationship seems to be outright impossible. which is also a huge bummer because he lives right next door, and it’d be nice to have him on your side since it significantly lessens the chance of him nagging you when the music is a smidge too loud or whenever you have friends staying the night.
by the time several weeks had passed — hell, you’ve endured almost two months of this crap — and he was no closer to warming up to you, you’d given up. not only that, you also made sure to give him a taste of his own medicine: you got rid of the sweet girl attitude and instead started treating him the same way he treated you.
rudely.
so it’s no wonder that he appears to be absolutely fucking pissed when he shows up at your doorstep one day when you’re in the middle of suffering through one of your worst heats yet, banging on your door with an impatient fist and sporting the pushiest demeanor you’ve ever seen.
when you finally force yourself to get off the couch and open the door, the first thing you realise is that he’s so big that he fills the entire entrance. all muscle and raw, brutal power. you’ve never gotten the chance to see him this upclose.
the glare in his dark brown eyes is harsh as he immediately makes eye contact with you, and his lips press into a firm line. there’s a constant flutter of a muscle in his right cheek that he can’t seem to get rid of.
he doesn’t look happy.
and there’s an odd sinking feeling appearing in the pit of your stomach because of it.
“what do you want?” you ask, trying your best to breathe as little as possible through your nose. he smells like pure alpha, heavy and intense because of that wretched musk — a scent you definitely shouldn’t be in close vicinity of at this particular time.
“i want you to get the fuck out of this building already,” he snarls with zero hesitation, gripping the side of the doorframe so that he can shove himself even further into your space. “you’re stinking up the entire place with your omega bullshit and it’s making it hard to think.”
“ex-…” you blink slowly, taken aback by the jumble of insults he’s just thrown at you. “excuse me?”
“you heard me the first time,” he snips, baring his front teeth for a split second as he visibly cringes at you. his canines are sharp; it’s your first time noticing this since he sure as hell never smiled in your presence. “i’ve got work in the morning and i can’t relax when your scent is taking over the entire goddamn floor. either find someone to take care of your heat for ya and give that vibrator that you’ve been riding since last night a rest already, or move the fuck out.”
you stare at him, dumfounded and wide eyed just like the first time. he stares right back, with his jaw tightly clenched and his shoulders stiff.
and there’s just something about the way he looks at you now, about the way he looks now — so rugged and blatantly male and rough around the edges, that causes your panties to turn even slicker than they already are.
“you’ve gotta be kidding me… christ, are all of you omegas so freaking pathetic?” he mutters quietly as he watches you squeeze your thighs together.
you’re dressed in nothing but a pair of tiny panties and an oversized t-shirt since you planned to do nothing else but sit at home today and try to make yourself feel better. the thin piece of fabric is doing absolutely nothing when it comes to keeping the scent of your urges at bay.
kiba’s throat feels like it’s on fire. it makes it hard to speak when he says, “whatever, just- are you gonna do somethin’ about it or not?”
“no, i’m not.” in your disoriented, the-heat-has-outright-cooked-my-brain-and-turned-it-into-useless-mush state, you can’t help but say the first thing that pops into your mind, “i’ve got just as much of a right to be here as everyone else does, you know. and it’s not my fault that you can’t focus because your shitty alpha brain is telling you to breed me… so if that’s all, i’ll be kindly asking you to get off my doorstep. i have a toy i want to get back to.”
you go to slam the door shut right in front of his nose, only to be caught off guard when BAM! — he uses his hand to shove it right back open again.
oh, he’s definitely not used to omegas disrespecting him or acting bratty around him. because of it, he’s all up in your face in a matter of seconds, blood boiling underneath tan skin.
with every step he takes forward, you try to take one back, but it doesn’t take long for him to corner you. before you know it, he’s got you with your back against the wall. his cock is thick and heavy in his sweatpants, pressing against your thigh and exposing the fact that your heat is affecting him too, and you spring into action because of it, desperately fighting to create more distance between your body and his.
however, the problem is that he’s ended up standing so close to you that the proximity is practically non-existent. trying to shove him away is futile since he’s so much bigger than you that he looms over your smaller frame and keeps you caged between the wall and himself with no issue.
you don’t stand a chance against him.
“look at me.”
forced to act submissive by nature, you give in easily to his demand despite the fact that it takes all the effort in the world for you to even attempt to refuse it. so you lift your gaze like the good little omega that you are, and you come to learn that there are tiny summer freckles dusting the bridge of his nose. you’ve never gotten the chance to see him this upclose either.
mentioned bridge slightly scrunches with displeasure now as his hand moves to wrap around your throat. he leans in, his voice hoarse, “is anyone else in here with ya?”
“y-yes,” you stammer, upper lip wobbling because of the fastly upcoming tears that are threatening to fall any second now. you’re well aware that alphas can get aggressive whenever they slip into rut, so you and your big mouth have put yourselves in quite the predicament. and if anything, this particular situation is definitely good enough of a reason to cry about.
“don’t you dare fucking lie to me. that shit pisses me off.” he gives your neck a firm squeeze, enough to make you kick your feet against the floor in sheer, utter panic. a scared little voice in your head tells you that he could lift you right off the ground if he wanted to. or worse.
“no, n-no there isn’t anyone else here!” you squeak out. “it’s just me and my cat! m’sorry!”
his eyebrows draw together.
“what?” you ask warily, trying to calm him down by distracting him even though you’re well aware that he can smell how wet your pussy has become by now and that it’s making him lose more and more of his sense of morality. there’s just something about his touch… it’s so warm that it makes you want to arch your back, as unbelievable as that sounds. “is something the matter?”
“no,” he mutters, still looking unimpressed. god, do his features ever soften? “it’s just that i hate cats, is all… dogs are better.”
you make a mental note to remember this piece of information for whatever reason. what the fuck.
“anyway,” he continues before you can say anything. “let’s take care of your heat now. i have a game to watch later, so i wanna be done by six… unless you feel like warming my dick at my place, that is.”
“w-what?” you freeze, cold sweat rushing over you. one tear falls, sliding down your much too feverish cheek and you sniffle. “no, wait-”
“yeah, yeah, you don’t want it, blah blah blah,” he brushes you off so carelessly that it makes your pulse begin to hammer inside your ears. “and yet you’re still soaking wet between your legs and feeling like you’ll die if i don’t shove my cock inside ya this very instant. spare me with the poor, helpless omega crap, sweetheart... you ain’t foolin’ nobody.”
he’s looking directly into your eyes again, completely shameless and with zero remorse, and you’re so turned on by it that your clit is throbbing. it’s making you slightly nauseous.
“i…” you swallow thickly, trying not to think about the amount of saliva that’s gathering in your mouth. “i don’t-”
without a single warning, he presses himself against you in a way that instantly makes you buck your hips towards him in search for more friction. when he begins to draw back, you act before thinking; grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt and frantically tugging him closer.
“see, i told ya,” he purrs, cruel satisfaction evident on his face as he watches you struggle. “you need me.”
he’s right. god-fucking-damn it, he’s right. the urgency to have an alpha like him inside you has gotten so bad by now that you can barely stand. if it weren’t for his hand that he’s still got wrapped around your throat, you’re pretty sure you’d already be laying on the floor by now.
and that is exactly where you end up.
on the floor, naked, manhandled into a mating press and forcefully stuffed full with his cock. moaning like a slut, sweating like crazy and crying at him to stop, to fucking stop stop STOP, even though you’re the one who’s reaching out, desperately trying to cling onto him and keep him inside.
the sounds your pussy is making whenever he sinks in to the hilt is fucking embarrassing. you’re so wet, practically delirious with want, twitching and whining when he hits that sweetspot deep inside you. you don’t even know his first name, so you’re just babbling nonsense, clawing at his strong arms in meek attempt to punish him.
“open your legs wider f’me.”
the desire to spread your legs further for him even if he’s literally the meanest piece of shit of a man is making you feel disgusting, but you just can’t stop yourself from obeying. your body wants him, it yearns for him, and it’s making your hormones go batshit crazy.
“that’s it, sweetheart.” he pants above you as he praises you, back arching and bicep flexing when he places one hand on your belly. “trying to be such a good girl for your alpha, huh? gonna do just about anythin’ to get me to knock ya up.”
your sobbing intensifies when he presses into the bulge his cock makes underneath your skin.
i think bakugou wouldn’t be all that vocal during sex, at least not in the beginning.
it’s more huffing and panting and deep grunts voiced through a tightly clenched jaw and gritted teeth when it comes to him. occasionally you’ll maybe get him to whisper a quiet fuck or shit into the small empty space where your mouths continuously meet, but that’s pretty much it.
instead, he allows his body to exhibit the pleasure he feels rather than his voice. he shows you how good you make him feel by the way his scarred, calloused hands run up and down your bare back when you’re riding him, taking him with a certain hot, wet ease that every salacious movement of your hips slamming against his own invokes.
by the way his warm lips press into the crook of your neck; teeth sinking into the tender sweet spot there, just deep enough for you to feel the nip of the bite. by the way he squeezes you so tight that you feel like your bones are going to crack because he sometimes forgets how strong he actually is. by the way he makes sure to kiss every inch of naked skin he can reach. by the way he drags his tongue over you to taste the sweat, and the way his fingers glide up the back of your neck, wishing to tangle into your hair but settling on your cheek instead.
and finally, he shows you how you make him feel by the way his longer limbs intertwine with yours when you’re done with the deed afterwards; laying there and basking in the afterglow while feeling completely and utterly spent.
he rolls over to squish you flat against the mattress with a raspy chuckle at some point and it’s like you can hear the i love you.
