Ever since you first set your eyes on Zayne, there's nothing you've wanted more than to break that stoic facade of his. You weren't satisfied with the miniscule twitches of his lips or the furrow between his brows. You wanted to see more, make him feel more until he couldn't hold back.
And finally seeing him break? Seeing him throw his head back, pretty neck arched and face flushed as that deep voice of his turns higher pitched and whiney? It was priceless and you enjoyed every single moment of it, perhaps a little bit too much. You felt so proud of yourself because you've managed to lower his guard, to break that icy visage.
Zayne was magnificent in everything he did, even when he was breaking apart in your hands, green eyes almost closed as he watches you caress his body, trace his scars with your lips and tongue, gradually going lower and lower until your mouth wraps around his throbbing length. And he is so fucking cute when his hips twitch like he wants to push deep into your throat, brows furrowed as he tries to control himself because he is far too much of a gentleman to gag you with his cock. Not that you'd mind. You could take it, what's a moment of discomfort when you know how magnificent his groan will be once your throat squeezes around him?
So you do it yourself. You swallow his cock until it is at the back of your mouth, tip teasing your tonsils, passing them and you would have smiled at the sound Zayne made if your mouth wasn't busy. And you're throbbing, drenched beyond belief as he finally, finally, lets go of that iron grip on his self control and places his hands on your head, gentle fingers in your hair as he starts guiding you over him.
You refuse to break eye contact even as your eyes start to burn and tears stream down your flushed cheeks as he fucks your mouth, slowly and meticulously, almost gently. Zayne twitches on your tongue, bites down onto his lip and you moan softly, one hand on his balls, pushing him further and further until a guttural groan leaves his chest and he buries his cock in your throat, hips bucking as he spills his cum and holds you in place until he is certain that you have swallowed it all.
Panting, Zayne pulls you up, kissing you deeply, tongue sweeping over the top of your mouth, groaning softly as he tastes himself. His hands, usually steady, shake as they caress your body, mapping out the curves and drawing little sighs from you. You ache for him, for his touch and you're not afraid to show it with how eagerly you've straddled him, stroked him back to hardness and just pushed your panties to the side before guiding him into you, so wet and pliant that there's no prep needed.
Zayne watches, hands gripping your hips as you start to ride him, fingers clenching until you think you'll be decorated with bruises but you're aware that that is one line Zayne will never cross, not even if you beg, because that's not him. That's not the mark he would enjoy to leave on you. He mouths at the curve of your neck as you ride him, hands slipping to your ass and gently squeezing the flesh as he starts to guide your movements, helping you chase that sweet, sweet release.
That's when Zayne gets more vocal, urging you on to take what you need from him, to let go, take everything you want. Sweet praise falls from his lips like honey, thumb pressing gentle circles into your clit until you reach your own breaking point and all Zayne can do is encourage you with an avalanche of sweet girl, that's it, ride it out, that's my girl, you've done so well for me
Cw: sub Shiggy, bondage, overstim, I think that's it
Pale and slender Shigaraki, spread out on your bed, wearing nothing but pretty lace panties the colour of his eyes, contrasting so nicely with his skin. His hands tied or even better taped up palm to palm, only his pinkie fingers free.
Bruises from your teeth are already all over his body, mostly on his shaking thighs and tense abdomen. His cock so hard and red and there are tears in his eyes because you've been teasing him, not letting him cum for ages.
He begs, he squirms, he even rages and threatens, switching between your good boy and a needy naughty brat. You let him cum but he's been so bad that you'll give him what he wanted tenfold. You'll milk him dry, tapping his poor sensitive cock and balls until he's shaking and arching away from your touch.
And all this time while you were pushing his limits, those free pinkie fingers had a reason to be free- he had them curled around your free hand's fingers, clutching them like a lifeline and comfort he would never admit he needs.
Later, praise him a lot, give him juice and wipe those pretty tears away, shower… Just pamper that pretty boy of yours until he melts and starts snoring in your arms.
Cw: sub!Izuku, gn!reader, he's called pretty and dumb, meant to be an outline but it is what it is, I think that's it
Your Izuku has always been an awkward person. You could see it ooze out of his childhood photos, see it everyday in person and on TV when he caught a bad guy and TV crews are pushing their mics in his face. Seeing him stumble over his words and blush along with them made you the happiest being alive. Your boyfriend might be an absolute beefcake but it certainly couldn't hide the shyness inside.
You teased him often, mostly in the privacy of your home, pushing his buttons until his whole face was red. A few times he even lost control of his Quirk which resulted in broken couches and a lot of glasses. Izuku never took it badly, often comforting you instead if you felt like you were crossing the line with your words or actions, even asking you not to stop. Because he loved how you teased him, how your words made him feel.
"I like it when you're mean to me." Izuku admits once, blushing furiously as his eyes refuse to meet with yours.
It only makes your teasing worse. It only makes your own feelings worse and one day you find yourself manhandling a big and strong pro hero in bed, pushing his chin up and leaving bite marks on his neck, his legs pushed up to his chest as you have your way with him. You almost laugh at how easily and eagerly he's following your every move, how gladly he lets your hands leave imprints on his skin, how loudly he calls out your name as you sink into him, pushing him to the edge and ruining it for him over and over again.
Izuku can beg so sweetly, asking you for more and more until you succumb and give all of your depravity to him. But he has called you mean and, while you would give everything to him, you refuse to let him cum. You refuse until he's crying, shivering and almost throwing a tantrum. That's when he looks his best, messy from tears and snot and drool, sweaty and marked up all over, your pretty canvas.
"Pretty boy." You'd coo, wiping the mess on his face gently, looking down at Izuku as if he's perfection (and he is). "What's got you so worked up?"
"You… you won't let me…" And Izuku gasps, pretty eyes producing even more tears to stain his pretty face as he tries to get the words out. You're patient, you can wait, perfectly still as you massage his hips. "why won't you let me cum?"
"Dumb boy," you grin, smile almost malicious as you started to move, watching his eyes roll back and mouth fall open at each grind against his prostate. "I thought you liked me mean."
All those muscles turned to useless mush just because you were fucking him stupid, just because you were as relentless as him. And, Oh, how perfect and pretty Izuku was with his toes curled up, fists ripping the sheets and cock twitching until he had nothing to spill, mouth wide open in a silent scream.
You almost laugh when Izuku embraces you with both his arms and legs, hanging onto you in the aftermath, an adorable koala that is kind of heavy but his weight is the one you'll carry with no complaints. It's cute and you readily take care of him, enjoying the little complaints that leave Izuku's mouth as you fidget and move. You're gentle and sweet, cleaning him up and murmuring into his ears until he's calmer, pretty eyes looking at you with wonder, loving even after all the ways you've ruined him. It's so different from moments before that all your Izuku can do is melt even more, angelic smile kissing his sweet lips.
I can't believe I wrote this when a perfectly fine Izuku is in my wips
Katsuki and you were on the couch, you laying down with your feet in his lap, him sitting with an arm over the backrest as he stared at some TV drama he wouldn't be caught admitting to like. You hated that drama, bored almost to tears from a cliche plot. So you did whatever made the boredom go away.
And that was bothering Katsuki.
Staring straight at the side of his face, your leg pulling up and toes touching his ribs. Katsuki gave you an inquisitive look but you just smiled and he turned his eyes back to the TV. He should have known better. He's been with you long enough to know how you get. You began pressing your toes into his ribs, over and over again. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, just annoying. You knew it was annoying Katsuki by the way his eyebrow was twitching and jaw clenching with each poke of your toes.
Your smile got wider the more he twitched, foot now pushing him gently. Katsuki was now glaring down at you, nostrils flaring. You weren't one to be scared even though that glare of his sent shivers down your spine. You also weren't exactly the smartest, poking at a dragon. Smiling innocently, you continued annoying him, eyes twinkling up at Katsuki.
You expected him to smack your foot lightly or even to grab it and sit on it. You didn't expect him to grab at you and fucking chomp down on it like an animal. The screech that left your mouth had him grinning around the mouthful. You pushed yourself up into a sitting position, trying to drag your foot out but the beast wasn't letting go.
"Oh my god, you fucking asshole!" You glared at him, voice raised. "Let go!"
Katsuki didn't let go. He was keeping his teeth in like a feral dog, ignoring your pushing and squirming until you put your other foot on his face. You've never moved faster away from anyone before.
"You bitch," you whimpered, checking out the flesh he bit. It was red, a bit swollen and his pretty teeth left indentations. "you just couldn't hold back. Look, you even broke skin."
"You big baby" Katsuki snapped, grabbing your foot again and dragging you back to him. Crimson eyes looked at the bite mark, fingers gently probing your abused flesh before he placed a kiss on top, taking your breath away. "There, you're perfectly fine."
"I can't believe you bit me."
"Next time, I'll bite your toe off." He grinned, pulling you underneath him and pinning you down.
"You just want to have my foot in your mouth." You grinned up at him, eyes sparkling. "Kinky."
"…" Katsuki stared down at you, a frown gracing his pretty face. "Ew."
"Excuse you, but I wash my feet."
"I'm going to kill you."
You stuck your tongue out at him then screeched when his fingers started tickling your sides and his teeth began biting down on your neck, not a bit gentle. And all you could do was laugh and plea for mercy.
Tw: DC,yandere, baby trapping, mention of sex, birth control manipulation, NC (mention of drunk reader)
Gojo doesn't really want children, he already has his hands full with the brats in the school. He just wants you, to keep you by his side forever. He loves you but he has noticed that your affection towards him is slowly fading, you rarely kiss him and when he does initiate, you're quick to turn your head so his lips land on your cheek. You pull out of his embrace after a few moments, no longer squeezing his waist and burrowing your face into his chest or neck. You've dropped the cute pet names too, you don't have sex as often, you rarely talk…
Gojo can't have that, he loves and needs you too much for you to break up with him; you're the only untainted person he has in his life. So he does everything he can to light that fire from before, show you that he's still Mr Right for you. There's flowers and chocolates, dinners and dates, abundance of gifts and he sees that it's working. Gojo is well aware how charming he is, he's not above using each and every trick in the books to have you fall.
You're back in that honeymoon phase, loving him from every little thing he does, for all those quirks he has. Sex is amazing, feels even better than before; from slow and sensual to hard and fast, old kinks to trying out new ones. You feel like you're living your best life.
But it doesn't always feel like that. There's something in the back of your head telling you that something isn't right, that Gojo is playing games with you and yet, the moment he sweeps you into his arms, you shut that little voice up. He wouldn't do anything bad, he's so sweet and attentive, so good to you that all those doubts have to be just that- doubts.
You should have listened.
Since day one of his attempts, Gojo has been replacing your birth control with sugar pills, has been poking little holes in the condoms, made you teas that people say helps with fertility, haven't used condoms when you got drunk (when he got you drunk). He's been doing it all, just to keep you at his side forever. At first, you don't think anything of a few missed days of your period, it happens from time to time, you don't even think anything is off when a month passes- your hormones have been messed up in general, it wasn't the first time.
Then two months pass, smells start to bother you, you feel nauseous and you've thrown up. Two out of three pregnancy tests scream positive and you're lowkey panicking. You don't know how it happened, you were so careful, almost obsessively, with your pills and additional protection with the condoms. But your sweet, lovely boyfriend is there for you, holding you, whispering reassurances into your ears, kissing your panicky tears away. You don't see him smile in victory, you don't see that now there's no escape until it is too late.
Gojo couldn't be happier, seeing you grow with his child. He's clingy, he rubs your swollen feet, buys all of the food you are craving for but doesn't let you go outside, doesn't let you hear your family and friends with a few carefully chosen words, picking at your weaknesses and picks at your childhood scars of broken relationships. They could never love you like Gojo does, could never protect you and your baby from the dangers of the world- only he can.
Note: I'm in love with him, your honour. 2.4k words for the hairy wall man with mommy issues.
CW: I can fix him, bad dialogue, virgin!Brahms, smut but not that explicit, pet names (I guess)
No matter how beautiful Heelshire Manor was, it was eerie. Large, secluded and surrounded by overgrown foliage, the manor reeked of something strange and creepy. It was surprisingly clean inside and you had to admit that the old couple took good care of the interior, stuck as they were over their son's unfortunate death. You hoped they were enjoying their vacation even though it was lasting longer than they said it would.
Brahms, the doll, has been your constant companion for over two months now. The rules were followed almost to a T and it was nice to set up some routine while away from the city's hustle and bustle. Strange things sometimes happened, some of your stuff went missing but you almost always found them a few days later in odd places. You didn't dare question it because you just might lose your mind and start being afraid of the dark (and there was a lot of darkness in this house). With all of your strength, you ignored things that went bump in the night (and day), feeling foolishly brave even as you huddled beneath the covers, legs and arms tucked as far away from the edges of your bed.
That doll was somewhat of a safety blanket, something you held as you went to sleep; the same way you held your dolls when you were a child. You told yourself that, because you went by all those rules, you would be safe, you'd be spared of the shadows that stalked you through your days.
If only you were so lucky.
Just as the second month turned over into the beginning of the third, the shadows just at the corner of your eyes started taking shape. A man watching you through the window on the first floor as you collected vermin in the garden, watching you from the corners of the house's many hallways, knocks from the walls and little messages left for you in the parlor, in the kitchen and, worse of all, your bedroom. You even found Brahms in places you didn't leave him in, the food set out for him gone the moment you turned your eyes away.
Your first thought was to leave, your second thought was a plan to see how far you could go with all that creepy stuff happening before you cracked. Maybe you already did and all of that was happening in your imagination and you were catatonic in some asylum but you were pretty certain this would have happened sooner in your life, when your mind was still developing.
So you trudged on, still following the rules, talking to the doll, talking to the walls, placing food on the table for yourself, the doll and the ghost in the walls. It went missing, the plate dutifully placed in the sink. Your little act brought out something in your ghost, something sweet even though you found it odd as well. Those notes now came with presents, handmade and, sometimes, looking bad but sweet still. You would smile with each gift, saying thank you to the walls, caressing the wallpaper.
Another week passed and your ghost stopped being shy. It was deep into the night, you couldn't fall asleep so you took to wandering around the place, fingertips dragging over the walls only to touch something warm and fleshy once you turned a corner. Your heart skipped a beat, climbing into your throat at the fright, your eyes widening as you raised your head and looked at the porcelain mask shining through the night, bathed in silvery moonlight coming through the window.
"Don't be afraid." He spoke, voice that of a child's and you briefly wondered how could a man, so tall and obviously strong, produce a sound quite like that. "I'll be good."
Many people would do a sensible thing and start running but you have never called yourself sensible. Or smart. So you decided to talk to the man, to the ghost from the walls. You'd probably be the first one killed in a horror movie.
"Cocoa?" You smiled, voice gentle and low as you offered, arms crossed beneath your chest. "You've kept me on my toes for months, I think I deserve an explanation."
Your ghost hunched over, shoulders tucking inwards and head bowing as he heard the reprimand. Giving him another smile, you lead the way to the kitchen, smiling wider as you heard him shuffle behind you. You turned on the lights, pulling out the necessary ingredients for the best hot cocoa ever then turned around to face the music. Your ghost was tall, obviously strong even as he tried to make himself smaller, dressed in ratty cardigan and smudged undershirt.
"So… You must be Brahms." You broke the tense silence, making him stop messing with his fingers. He nodded and shuffled a little closer to you, just a foot away. He could reach out and touch you if he wanted but, surprisingly, Brahms held his distance. "Sit down."
Your lips curled upwards as Brahms obeyed you, sittirules wn and tucking his long legs beneath the table properly, back straight and eyes on you as you prepared the cocoa. You didn't hesitate to place it in front of him, leaning over with your hand at the back of his chair. Brahms looked at you, hesitantly wrapping his fingers around the mug. His eyes followed you as you took a seat next to him but he could not keep eye contact with you.
"Talk." The word came out a little bit sharper than you've intended, making Brahms stiffen up but you were not about to let him get away with the internalized fear and doubts you've been through. "In your normal voice, Brahms, none of that little boy act."
"…" He pulled the mug into his chest, hugging it and looked down at the cocoa like it would give him an excuse. You thought he wouldn't reply once the minutes dragged on but he suprised you once he opened his mouth, speaking in a deep, rumbling voice. "I broke the rules. I shouldn't have let you see me, I've been bad…"
Brahms hesitated after that, looking this way and that, mostly towards the walls he lived in but then, after taking a deep breath, settled down for a long story of weird sort of imprisonment and torment. He implied all sorts of things, nearly admitted some, skimmed over the topic of his parents with bitterness and anger. Brahms made you feel for him and you, perhaps foolishly, offered comfort.
Brahms went rigid in your arms, not breathing for a few tense moments before he relaxed, slumping against your chest as you carded your fingers through his matted hair and cooed about how good he was for you, how sweet you found him, that he could do even better and that not everything was his fault. He held onto you like you were holding him together, as if he was as fragile as the mask he wore all these years.
And that was just the beginning of your strange friendship with the ghost in the wall, with the boy and a man rolled into one. Mostly, Brahms was good and listened to you, other times he had temper tantrums that sent your heart racing and mind scrambling to pacify him. You've discovered that he disliked Malcolm and his weekly visits, that he was possessive and clingy. You've discovered that he didn't really know how to bathe and helped with that too, as strange as it was to teach a grown man.
Sometimes, Brahms made you laugh, made you clutch onto him the same way he did you. Other times, he made you angry and your words would make him hunch back into that smaller form. Once, you called him a bad boy and the following sniffle had your heart breaking. You've discovered how much a harsh tone of voice and a firm hand worked on Brahms, just like praise and gentle touch did.
Brahms scared you sometimes, especially when he went eerily quiet and still, just looking at you with a dark look in his eyes. You walked on eggs those days, bad days, because temper tantrums sometimes lead to him stalking to you, trying to intimidate you with his height and size. It worked but you refused to let him push you around, refused to show how much he frightened you.
Overtime, things got better. Brahms, for the most part, settled into a different routine, became a bit more independent and asked for direction less. He was still clingy, still possessive, but now you could go for a brief outing into the city. Like a puppy, he would welcome you home, embracing you almost the moment you stepped back into the house.
The house was no longer a creepy prison but held warmth that was missing for decades. It was lived in, showed signs of care and two people existing together.
Brahms became even more affectionate as time went on and you gave back as good as you got. Slowly, you fell for the man- baggage, temper, scars and all. Slowly, touch started to linger, hands mapped out curves, skin and imperfections, lips following along. Brahms wouldn't let you see his face even though you held it in your hands one night in your bed, felt the scars warping the flesh. He called himself ugly, you were inclined to disagree. You called him your pretty boy, your sweet and good boy, your love.
You truly did love Brahms, loved him to the point of obsession. Sometimes, you scared yourself with your thoughts of wanting to mark him as yours, of sinking your teeth into his flesh, of carving your name into his skin. He made you crazy.
When you admitted to that darkness lingering inside you, Brahms threw away all of the restraints holding him back and showed you just how much darker and crazier he was, how much you held back the monster inside. His strength left you breathless and tingling inside, made you press your thighs together to find some relief but you wanted more, always craved for more even as he ripped your clothes off, leaving cloth burns on your skin. You laughed once he held you by the throat, his other hand touching your body, exploring without hesitation.
Brahms barely knew what he was doing, but his enthusiasm and giving yet selfish nature made you feel like you're in heaven. By the time his hand finally ended up between your thighs, you were drenched. He parted your folds with his fingers, feeling how wet and ready you are for him, making you whine and squirm as he rubbed your clit then sunk his fingers inside of you with ease. You wrapped your legs around his hips, bucking against his hand. You grinned, arching your back and pushing back, chasing the sweet release he brought to you. It wasn't enough.
You pulled him towards you, knocking away the mask and kissing him until he was limp in your arms then flipped you over to be on top. You sat up on his hips, grinding on top of his dick. He whined, hands clutching your hips in a bruising hold as he helped you move the way he wanted, trying to get you to move faster. You let him, giving over control just to see pleasure on his face, hear those lovely sounds spill from his mouth.
Another part of you wanted to see just how far you could push Brahms, how much you could tease him with your words and movement until he started begging. Maybe you'd manage to draw some frustrated tears from his pretty eyes, maybe he'd take over again and push into you with just the right amount of force. You couldn't do it to him now, it was obviously his first time, glaringly so. Brahms did touch you but each one that wasn't on your hips was hesitant, followed by an insecure look until you told him it was alright, he could touch all he wanted.
While it felt good and Brahms made you feel desired, you wanted more than just wandering hands and humping. You rose a bit, took his dick in your hand and positioned him at your entrance, slowly sinking down and sighing as you felt the stretch. Brahms twitched inside of you and let out a low groan once you settled.
You held still for a few moments, looking down at Brahms, fingers gently rubbing his tense abdomen. You slowly begun to rock, going faster then slower, feeling powerful and beautiful when Brahms finally touched you more, when his eyes looked in wonder at you on top of him. You held his gaze, smiling wickedly as you clenched around him, as you begun to ride him with all you've got. Sweet moans of your name tumbled from Brahms' lips like prayer, little gasps and words of praise escaped you. He fell into a rhythm with you, hips bucking into yours just perfectly, bringing you closer to release with each grind, him already at the brink.
You almost laughed when Brahms stilled inside you, tugging you down into his lap as his dick emptied inside of you, filling you up with warmth. He babbled, ever so slightly trembling as he pulled you down to hug you, strong arms holding you like shackles.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" The words spilled from his mouth and you raised your eyes to look at him, seeing shame and insecurity on Brahms' scared face.
"For what?" You asked, smiling sweetly as you caressed the scars on his face, wiping away a few tears that Brahms couldn't keep away.
"You didn't…" He looked away, lips pursed in a pout.
"Silly boy." You replied, sitting back straight. "It's alright, perfectly normal for you to cum before me. You're sensitive, it's your first time and, honestly, it was kind of hot. We can always try again, sweetheart."
"We can?"
"Mhm, baby, we can."
You yelped then laughed when Brahms pulled you back into his chest, hugging him back and kissing the skin above his still racing heart. You closed your eyes, sighing, feeling content and warm, safe with Brahms around you and inside you, slowly falling asleep to the sounds of his breathing and the beats of his heart.
There is nothing more beatiful to hear and experience than John's laughter.
It is deep, rumbles from his core and has him throwing his head back with a palm pressed to his midsection as it shakes his body. It is beatiful, perfect and so, so rare that you treasure each moment, bury it deep in your heart, even deeper in your soul. Each second of that lovely, perfect sound is tattooed in the beating of your heart, safely tucked away in the hidden corners of your mind for when he is away, months at a time.
You could never forget it. You could never even think about hating it even when you miss him, miss his voice, miss the way that laughter of his would shake you as well when he brings you into the warmth and safety of his embrace because you've said something so silly yet adorable.
Being a military man that John is, his laughter becomes a mythical being, lost to memories, to guilt, to nightmares and thousand yard stares, fingers on the trigger even in his sleep, violent outbursts at loud sounds. It becomes something fragile, unattainable with each difficult mission, each drop of blood on his hands.
He is still your John. He is still the man you've fallen in love with, still the man you love with every single piece of your flesh and soul. You loved John for ages, loved him when his smiles and laughs were so much like those of a boy, a young man full of life and wishes to touch the stars, do good, be good.
And you love him still even now that he is a mess, heart and mind.
You wish you could hide him just like all those memories of his laughter, open up your ribcage and tuck him away in the warmth and safety of your fragile heart.
Tw: suggestive at some parts, silly, actually very bad, I cannot write for shit
You were always one that would go beyond when challenged or dared. You just couldn't back down or give up until you've done it. Truth or dare was always a bad experience but you've pushed through with pride and not a smidge of embarrassment.
"I could take you in a fight." Famous last words, especially when said to one of top heroes like your boyfriend. Katsuki simply raised an eyebrow, giving you an unimpressed look. "I so could."
"No, I don't think you can. You're so…" Katsuki smirks, giving you a slow once over, taking in all of you before meeting your eyes with his. "Soft. And short."
You being you, of course you rushed him, knocking into him with your shoulder, arms wrapped around his lower waist. You pushed with all your might, legs locking as your feet slid over the floor. A grunt left your lips and you felt more than heard Katsuki laugh as you tried your best, sweating after just a few minutes of struggle. You felt him shift then his arms were around your hips and waist, raising you up with envious ease, your legs flailing before you hooked them blindly over his shoulders and knocking your foot against his head in the process.
"The floor is very close, honey." Your voice went high pitched as you spoke, fingers gripping onto his pockets as you stared down at his feet.
"I won't drop you." He replies, raising you higher and leaning his chin on the apex of your legs to look at you. It would've been sexy if you weren't bracing for a concussion. "I'm not weak."
"Please, let me down." You groan, feeling the blood rush into your head and palms start to sweat.
"I'm disappointed." He drawls, voice mocking and pushing your buttons. You manage to look up, giving him a lovely view of your frown, flushed face and double chin. "I thought my girl had more fight in her."
"Oh, you bitch." You breathe, eyes wide then squinting as you struggle to pull yourself upward, using his clothes as holds. "I'll get you. I'll fucking get you."
You barely notice the support your back is getting, too focused on getting closer to wipe that infernal smirk off his face until you're practically sitting on his shoulders and looking down at him as you struggle for breath. That's when you realize he's helping you stay upright, his hold on you secure as he grins at you almost ferally.
"Hi." You grin down at him, fingers in his hair and legs tight around his neck. "You come here often?"
"I do." Katsuki grins, voice just a tad suggestive, baring his teeth and takes a bite at your thigh, pretty eyes glaring up at you from between your legs. You have to admit, it's hot. Despite the fact that you're holding onto his hair simply because you are waiting for the fall. His hot palms move smoothly over your back, almost up to your shoulders and you have to admit that this whole situation is doing things to you.
"If you drop me, I'm taking you with me." You threaten, hooking your legs more securely at his back. You were always one to ruin the mood as well.
Katsuki squints his eyes at you, lips pursing. And then his hands are off you and an embarassing squeak left your mouth as you smothered him with your stomach, legs squeezing around his as you feel yourself slip down just a little. You don't really have that much upper body or core strength in you so you swearing up a storm a few minutes later, glaring into Katsuki's face.
"Bastard" You manage to squeeze out, voice strained. Honestly, you don't really want to admit just how awkward and lowkey scary it is, holding on to a tall ass man with only the carpet to soften up your fall even though you knew that Katsuki would never let you come to harm. He'd catch you, always. "Help me down."
"Giving up so soon?" Katsuki smirks and places his hands back on you, helping you stand on your two feet with some maneuvering and elbows (yours) in sensitive places (his). "I thought you'd take me down with you."
"Shut up." You purse your lips, disgruntled.
"Make me." He puts his hands on his hips, looking down at you with fire in his eyes. "Bet you can't."
You look up into his eyes, lips curling up slyly and you grasp onto his collar, tugging him down. Your eyes glance between his then down to his mouth and back again. Katsuki hums and places his hands on your waist, pulling your body to his and lowers his head even more, brushing your noses together for one sweet moment before you stand on your toes and finally press your lips together. It's almost a chaste kiss with how slow and sweet it is but it is still deep, still makes you desire more.
"I can take you" You whisper once you two part and bite your lip, trying to hide a smile. "Not in a fight."
