Yandere adrian would totally masturbate while watching you sleep through your windows
ill be watching you — adrian chase
synopsis: adrian chase has been silently watching over you for months, always framing it as protection.
pairings: adrian chase/f!reader
tags: yandere!adrian chase, stalker!adrian chase
warnings: stalking, non consensual voyuerism, masturbation, sexual content
word count: 1088
a/n: hi anon !! i know you requested this literally last year but im answering it now hehe, sorry for taking so long T-T
The night air was thick with the scent of wet pavement and blooming jasmine, heavy from an earlier rain that left puddles glinting under the streetlights. Adrian perched on the fire escape outside your window, his suit creaking faintly as he shifted, the leather clinging to his sweat-damp skin. His gloved fingers grazed the window frame, and his breath caught when he realized the latch was undone, the blinds left carelessly open.
A frown tugged at his lips, his jaw tightening as he stared through the glass. You were so careless. An unlocked window and an exposed view of you it made his stomach twist with something between anger and pity. Anyone could climb up here, anyone could slip inside, and you’d be none the wiser, vulnerable in your sleep. Anyone but him, of course. He was here to protect you, to keep the real creeps at bay, even if his own face under the mask looked a little too wild-eyed to be innocent.
You lay sprawled across your bed, bathed in the soft, silver glow of moonlight that poured through the open blinds, painting your skin in delicate shadows. Your thin camisole, pale and slightly sheer, clung to your chest, rising and falling with each slow, steady breath. Your shorts had ridden up, the fabric bunched high on your thighs, revealing soft skin that caught the light just right, and Adrian’s fingers twitched against the windowpane, it would’ve left a smudge had he not been wearing gloves.
He shouldn’t be here, he knew that. He knew the irony of calling out creeps while crouched outside your window like some lovesick gargoyle. But this was different. He was keeping you safe. If you’d just locked the damn window and pulled the blinds, he wouldn’t have to do this, wouldn’t have to feel the heat pooling in his gut, the tightness straining against his suit.
His gloved palm settled over the bulge between his thighs. The suit’s padding muffled the contact, but not enough. The seam along the crotch dug in when he cupped harder, fingers curling, molding the shape of himself through layers of reinforced fabric. A low, involuntary sound scraped out of his throat, barely audible over the distant drip of a gutter and the soft rustle of your sheets.
Adrian couldn’t take it anymore. His hand moved, fumbling with the zipper of his Vigilante suit, the leather sticking to his clammy skin as he tugged it down. The quiet rasp of the zipper blended with the distant hum of a car passing in the alley below, and his eyes stayed glued to you, tracing the way your body shifted, legs tangling in the sheets. Your lips parted, letting out a soft, breathy sigh that carried the faint scent of mint toothpaste, and Adrian bit his lip hard, the coppery sting of blood sharp on his tongue. His movements were slow at first, deliberate, but they grew frantic, matching the quickening pulse hammering in his ears. The cool glass pressed against his forehead as he leaned closer, his breath fogging the window in uneven bursts.
Finally free, his cock sprang out into the chill night air, heavy and throbbing, the tip already slick with pre-cum that glistened under the faint moonlight filtering through the blinds. The contrast hit him hard, the cool breeze teased his heated skin making him hiss through clenched teeth as he wrapped his gloved fingers around the base. The leather was smooth but unforgiving, gripping tight as he stroked upward, slow and teasing, feeling every ridge and vein pulse under his touch. His thumb circled the head, smearing the wetness down the shaft in lazy, deliberate swipes, the slick sound obscene in the quiet, mixing with the faint creak of his boots on the fire escape.
You murmured in your sleep, a soft, incoherent sound that sent a jolt straight to his groin, and Adrian’s hips bucked forward involuntarily, thrusting into his fist with a wet slap. His eyes devoured you, the way your thin camisole had ridden up, exposing the soft swell of your breasts, nipples pebbled against the fabric from the draft seeping in. Your shorts were a lost cause now, bunched so high they barely covered anything, the curve of your ass peeking out as you arched slightly in your dream, thighs rubbing together with a faint whisper of skin on skin.
He matched that rhythm, pumping harder, the glove’s texture adding a rough edge that made his balls tighten, drawing up tight against his body. Sweat beaded on his brow, trickling down under his mask, and he panted against the glass, each exhale clouding his view of you only to clear it again, like a taunting veil. His free hand clawed at the window frame, nails scraping wood, as he twisted his grip on the upstroke, squeezing just under the head where he was most sensitive. Pre-cum leaked steadily now, coating the leather in sticky strands that webbed between his fingers when he pulled back.
The scent of it, musky and raw. It mingled with the jasmine outside and the faint lavender from your room, turning the air thick and heady.
A shiver ran through you, and you rolled fully onto your back, legs parting wider, one knee bent and falling to the side. The sight of your inner thighs, smooth and inviting, the thin fabric of your shorts clinging to the outline of your folds, it was too much.
Adrian groaned low, the sound vibrating in his chest, and sped up, his fist flying now in slick, frantic strokes that echoed with lewd, wet smacks. His cock twitched in his hand, swelling thicker, the veins standing out as heat built low in his belly, coiling tighter with every glimpse of you.
He imagined it, crawling through that unlocked window, peeling those shorts down and burying himself deep inside you while you woke with his name on your lips. The thought pushed him over, his body locking up as release hit hard, ropes of cum spilling over his glove, splattering the fire escape in hot, messy spurts. He milked himself through it, strokes slowing to lazy tugs, drawing out every last shudder until his legs trembled and his breath came in ragged gasps. The evidence cooled quickly in the night air, sticky and incriminating, but Adrian just grinned as he tucked himself away, zipping up with shaking hands.
You were safe, for now. And he’d be back, always watching, always ready to protect you from everything but him.
Bakugou lies in bed, sleepless, glaring at the ceiling above him. Sleep hasn’t been coming to him easy for some time, and he knows if he were to pinpoint the date it began, his answer would most definitely lead back to you.
It had been about three weeks since you broke up, and he still hasn’t found many ways to cope. Refuses to believe it’s even true, most days.
So he sits, and broods, and waits for drowsiness to consume him when he knows it will not. Especially not when he’s lying so rigidly atop his sheets.
There is something that always helps him sleep, and you were both privy to the fact that a good orgasm could knock Katsuki out cold almost instantly.
Reluctantly, Bakugou drags a heavy hand down his front until he grips the length of himself through his briefs, and tugs lazily until it’s full and hard under his grasp.
Thumbing the waistband under his balls, he takes hold of his cock, groaning while he pumps it once, precum beading at the red tip. He swipes at it with a finger, but imagines if you were here with him you’d have sucked it off with your mouth and swallowed it down.
He fucks up into his fist slow, because he knows you’d go slow. You always took your time, letting him feel the clenching ring of you slide down to the base of him. Forcing his tip to be pushed nowhere but the warmest, deepest depth of you. Making you be the closest two people ever could. Baring the essence of your souls to each other.
His hand doesn’t compare, nothing ever would, but it will have to do.
If he thinks hard enough, he could picture you on top of him, all swirling hips and breathy moans. You’d lean your hands onto his strong chest for leverage, and he’d lick and nip playfully at one of your arms. To which you’d chastise him for not taking how sexy you’re being seriously and he’d gruffly reply oh, I’ve noticed, sweetheart. And you’d get a little flustered at that, as if his cock isn’t buried deep in you.
His hand speeds up and a wet schlick is resounding throughout the room. Pleasure shoots up his spine with each upstroke. The fire in his belly burns brighter, and he feels the end drawing near.
And this is the part where he’d kiss you, any part of you, and would wonder if you could feel the way his chest aches for you. How his heart beats for you.
All the things he could never bring himself to say.
Spurts of cum shoot onto his flexing belly, and he hisses at the wet feeling of it. He bucks up into his hand a few times, unthinkingly chasing after euphoria. When he’s done, he stares down at the mess he’s made on himself. He lets go of his still-hard cock and it slaps back onto his abs, a string of spend connecting between the two.
He doesn’t even feel the hot tears trailing down his face until the high dissipates into nothing, and he’s left profoundly and irrevocably empty.
CW// enemies to lovers ig, fem reader, male and female masturbation, daddy kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing, cum eating, manhandling, frat boy atsumu, college AU
Thank you @m-mortimer for semi beta reading and supporting me!!
It was always your luck, bad luck. Wherever you were, he was two steps behind. Constantly around you, his voice floating into your ears, annoying and cocky. Ever since you started class with him three months ago; you knew you didn’t like him. He walked in late, too late to be acceptable, with a strut and a smirk gracing his face, his bag slung over his left shoulder. Which in your mind was ridiculous, it would mess up his incredibly good posture and frame, why would you mess with that? Blonde hair that desperately needed toning flashed past as he found his seat behind you, cologne too strong and the music that played in his ears too loud. You didn’t like him. But he was always there.
“You’re sharing a room with Atsumu, they overbooked us, so it looks like you guys will have to share”
The look on your face should have been a give away that you didn’t like this idea. Not one bit, but your teacher had walked away before you could protest, or even beg to not be confined within the same four walls as Atsumu Miya. This college trip was supposed to be calm, relaxing where you do a few museum tours, sleep in a big bed to yourself and indulge in a bubble bath or two. Apparently not.
A bicep brushes your ear, overly strong cologne gracing your personal space, a laugh sings past your other ear, and suddenly you’re surrounded by him.
“Guess we’re roomies, hah?” You could sense the grin on his face before you even turn to look at him, smug bastard, always grinning or smirking or chewing those perfect lip-
“You better not try anything funny, Miya” you grumble as you slide out of his grip, the warmth that was draped over you sliding away.
“Nah, not tonight, I just want a nice shower and an early night”
Suspicious, Atsumu is known as the party animal. Shooting shots off girls' bodies and equally offering people to body shot off his abs (The self proclaimed ‘king of body shots’, either choosing the prettiest girl in the crowd to trail his tongue down, or spreading himself out to be dripped and drooled over). Always posting selfies of him at another party, night after night (documenting his numerous trips to the ER after a drunken stumble or a ‘friendly fight’, lip split and bruised knuckles flashing in front of the camera). You wonder how the bright lights and alcohol doesn’t constantly give him a headache, maybe they did, maybe that’s why he’s so addictively annoying. You should unfollow him, you make a mental note to do that once you get settled, large bed to yourself, clean and cosy as you sleep.
The evening goes quickly; food with friends and exploring the city until the late hours of the night, staring at the lights and buzzing environment around you. You were practically vibrating with happiness until you remembered your rooming situation. Refusing to let it spoil the happy feeling inside you, you decide to quickly change. There was steam rolling out from under the heavy doors, Atsumu was probably showering, giving you the perfect opportunity to change and slide into the sheets, basking in the soft cotton and fresh smelling pillows. Musky steam flows over your head as the bathroom door opens, (revealing him, and nothing but him,) simply draped in a towel around his hips. You don’t let your gaze linger too long but just enough to take in the soft hair (a dark brown, massive contrast to the yellow on his head) travelling down his lower stomach, disappearing under the damp fabric. It’s a long enough look to watch how the light bounces off his tanned, wet skin (eyes daring to follow the droplets making their sinful way down his chest and stomach). He didn’t think to dry off before he left the bathroom?
Peeking out of the top of the sheets, you watch how his shoulders flex and bulge with his every movement, the late night hours making your brain think about things you told yourself you’d never think about. How his shoulders would look as he holds himself over you, how that stupid silver chain hanging around his neck and collarbones would glisten in front of you, ghosting over your face with every movement. How his tanned skin would look so much better with red lines and scratches littered across it (with your marks patching his chest and neck and thighs and -). It’s enough to make the throb between your legs more prominent as you turn over to face the wall. No, you can’t think this, especially not about Atsumu, a new girl every weekend, probably STD crazy, Miya. No.
Loud music from his earphones fill the room, the same loud music you’ve had to put up with for months from behind you; is now a metre or so away from you in a bed. Glancing at the clock it was nearly midnight, 11:48 to be precise, and all you wanted was to sleep. Normally if you couldn’t sleep you’d slide your fingers inside your panties, rubbing your puffy clit until you cum and succumb to darkness in the form of sleep. However the body in the bed next to you, rising and falling with each steady breath meant you couldn’t, right?
“Atsumu?” It was barely audible, the music in his ears too loud to hear your tiny voice from across the space.
“Atsumu” you try again, louder and more daring. Yet he still doesn’t move, no signs of him stirring or noticing you’re calling out for him. Fuck it.
Your legs spread slowly, every sound that is made makes you acutely aware of what you’re about to do, the scrunch of the sheets and slight squeak of the mattress against the headboard makes you freeze. But your fingers still dance down the soft plush of your thighs, inching closer and closer to the damp fabric of your panties. The small wet spot formed as soon as you saw him in that stupid towel, only growing more when you saw even more as he changed into his boxers, nothing you’ve never seen on his socials. (apparently he didn’t like pyjamas. “Too restrictive” he muttered as you snapped at him to “please cover yourself”, a ploy on your behalf to stop your mind wandering; ultimately failing)
The first ghost of your fingers over your clit causes you to gasp, instantly biting your lip to silence yourself; immensely aware of how weird this is, touching yourself whilst the person you hate most sleeps next to you, but it just turns you on more. The next step is to rid yourself of panties, giving you more access to the slick arousal pooling at your entrance, gathering it on your fingers to allow your fingers to glide over the swollen skin, practically throbbing under each touch. Your clits hard and when you apply small, tight circles with a firm touch you have to slap a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from moaning, whimpering out his name and waking him. You blush at the thought of him catching you, how mortified you’d feel if he heard you touching your puffy cunt and crying his name; how you’d never hear the end of it, always known as the girl who touched herself in atsumu miyas presence.
It doesn’t deter you though, the circles on your clit are heaven, thighs shaking and twitching with each firm action your fingers apply to your sex. Two slick fingers sliding inside of yourself, wet lewd noises squelching out as you bury inside yourself, up to the knuckle, not enough but it will do.
“Are ya having fun?”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, he was awake and he heard you, he heard you finger yourself and rub pathetically at your clit. Do you remove your fingers? Alert him even more to the wet sound that will occur when you do? Or do you just stay still until he gives in and rolls over to sleep.
“Don’t stop, keep touching your clit for me, baby”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, are ya gonna listen to me for once in your life or keep pretending you're not knuckles deep inside yourself right now?”
The commands made you stomach turn, a gulp stuck in your throat as you whimper out a pathetic “yes”
“Good girl, bet you’re thinking about me, huh?” There’s that shit eating grin again, you can hear it as he teases you. You wonder what else he’s doing, is his cock hard? Straining against the thin fabric of his boxers or is he laughing at you whilst you're spread out for him? Too many questions run through your mind as you think about what to do next, fingers still firmly applied to your throbbing cunt.
“If it helps… I’m stroking my cock for you, thinking it’s your hand” if you listen closely his voice is shaking, breathless grunts leaving his lips every so often filling the room with thick air between you both. “So keep touching that little clit of yours and imagine it’s my fingers, I bet you’d hate that, cumming over my fingers and making a mess of your sheets”
Cocky, but you can’t deny the fact that the words flying your way are turning you on, fingers dancing quickly and swiftly over the nub of nerves that make you see stars.
“Please…” you whine; what you’re whining for you're not sure, but it’s a beg nonetheless. A beg to have a atsumu between your legs, (to have that stupid stupid chain dangling over your face, maybe you’d bite it, tug on it to anger him, make him go harder) and a beg to let you cum.
“Cmon, pretty thing, I know you can do better than that. Wanna hear you cry for me, I know you can. I know you bounce on your fingers every night wishin’ it was my cock. Why don’t you tell me about that?”
“W-wanna… want you inside me, Atsumu, please…” it’s quiet, being deafened by the slick sounds of your soaked pussy and the clicking sounds of his fist hitting his balls with every stroke. Oh how you wish you could see it, where the veins lay under the sensitive skin and how the red leaking tip gets revealed with every pull back of his palm. The thought of wrapping your lips around the head and suckling on the Precum makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can almost taste the saltiness on the back of your tongue.
“W-wanna… want you inside me, Atsumu, please…” it’s quiet, being deafened by the slick sounds of your soaked pussy and the clicking sounds of his fist hitting his balls with every stroke. Oh how you wish you could see it, where the veins lay under the sensitive skin and how the red leaking tip gets revealed with every pull back of his palm. The thought of wrapping your lips around the head and suckling on the Precum makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can almost taste the saltiness on the back of your tongue.
“Wanna feel your cock deep inside me, please; I need it, need to feel every curve and thrust. It’s the only thing that makes me cum…!”
Sinful is the way you’d describe the groan that leaves his lips deep and the rumble that travels across to you goes straight to your clit, the throb almost painful as you desperately rub against it. If your legs could get any further apart, you’d do so, but they’re basically dislocated to allow your fingers to curl inside you and your wrist to flex quickly, arousal spilling over your knuckles and the sheets below you.
“I wan- need you to tell me everything, everything you want me to do to you”
“Need your mouth against me atsumu-“
He cuts you off before you can even finish the sentence “That’s not my name, what’s my name, baby?”
“Daddy…! Need your mouth against me daddy, please, wanna cum over your tongue and make a mess of your face, I’m yours, you can do anything” the slick sound of his hand has sped up and all you can imagine is his large hand twisting over the head, rough palms squeezing his shaft and cupping his balls. Heavy Balls you so want to suck on, roll them around on your tongue and feel his moans and grunts travel through your body
“Daddy please let me cum, please, I need it so bad, I’ll do anything”
“Oh? You’ll do anything? Cum for me then baby, make a mess over your pathetic hand, wanna hear ya cry for me. You’ll want more, sluts like you always do.”
The dirty words being spat at you tip you over the edge; the coil that was wound so tightly inside your stomach finally snapped. Slick arousal gushing over your fingers; back arched and head thrown back whilst moaning haphazardly for the man you so so hate has you collapsing into the sheets. You can barely heave out any words before the mattress dips and the protective sheets have been ripped from your shaking body.
He was there, in all his annoying glory; the grin you’ve convinced yourself to hate beaming down at you. Your gaze meets his blow pupils and flushed face, acutely aware of his big hands surrounding your head and how hot his body is (not only in looks, the abs and broad shoulders are a plus, but how he’s emitting heat like a furnace) The heat is building at his core and with a curious glance down you can see his cock standing to attention against his stomach, threatening to drop and land heavy against your own stomach.
It’s as pretty as his face is, tanned and a blushing pink head that’s leaking pre cum as if it was lube. The veins that litter the skin are visibly throbbing, one large one up the underside makes your mouth water and a whimper leave your mouth
“You wanted daddy to fuck you, so here he his” he states, the low rumble from his chest travelling to yours and sending shivers up your spine (youve had goosebumps the whole time, every hair on your body standing to attention as he grunts instructions at you, but now having him above you is a different kind of shiver) and before you know have time to beg him to fuck you, his heavy cock is thrusting through your folds: slicking itself up in your own arousal and cum. Everytime the swollen head catches on your clit on his thrust down, your lips part and a tiny gasp, that fills atsumus ears with heaven, falls out
“I can’t- I can’t wait, can I fuck you now? Want daddy buried inside you, baby?”
“Please daddy…!” And the thing you were hoping for the most happens, his lips collide against yours. They’re soft and determined to claim you; tongue pressing against yours and exploring your mouth. Swallowing each others moans and whimpers as he pushes the head of his cock inside your tiny hole was the best part, feeling the vibrations and breaths of air as inch after inch is sheathed inside you.
There’s no rest, no time to catch your breath before he’s pulling away to stare down at you. Taking in your beauty and tits splayed out before him, essentially manhandling you into the position you want. One leg is pushed into your chest and the other pinned to the mattress, strong hands keeping you in place as his cock pulls out almost all the way, pulling the skin back and pushing back in all the way to the hilt. Dragging each vein and ridge against the soft spot inside you that makes you cry out his name.
A swift slap to your clit has you apologising
“I'm sorry! Daddy please… please please please” neither of you know why you’re begging him, he’s fucking you with rigour now, sweaty bodies pressed against eachother and your dream of marking his body up with your marks is coming true. Red lines gracing his back and shoulders, claiming him and marking him for any girl he has within the next few weeks.
“Gonna cum for me, baby? Ya going to make a mess over daddy’s cock? Bet ya are, stupid sluts like you don’t know anything else but cock and cumming” his thumb has made its way to your clit without you realising and is pushing you further and closer to the cliff of orgasm.
“Stupid, cock drunk slut” the degradation being spat at you was overwhelming, mixed with the feeling of his cock and thumb against your cunt; it pushes you over the edge. Pussy fluttering and clenching down on his dick as your orgasm washes over you, lighting your nerves on fire whilst your cunt gushes more slick over his cock.
“Fuc-fuck…” he grunts out, jaw clenched and fingers digging impossibly harder into your skin; definitely bruising you and causing you sore muscles for the rest of the trip. “Cumming, I’m cumming!” He basically shouts out, cock being ripped from inside you. You watch as he desperately fists at his cock until he’s spilling rope after rope of hot cum against your stomach, painting your skin white, marking you as his as you did him. If you were to think too much into it, you’d say it’s quite romantic as he scoops it up into his calloused fingers and slides them between your lips. You’re too fucked out, dazed and sleepy to protest; savouring the salty liquid in your mouth as he collapses onto the mattress next to you.
“You have your own bed, asshole” you pant out as you notice his eyes closed, the stupid stupid chain resting on his chest as he breathes deep and steadily. The stupid yellow of his hair splayed out against your pillows.
“Shut up” and there’s the shit eating grin again, except this time you place a kiss to it, succumbing to the darkness that is sleep.
Request: atsumu-nii still has morals unlike your depraved osamu-nii. he doesn’t want to fuck his imouto but he wants to be cucked instead. if he imagines himself as osamu fucking you maybe he’d get off to that instead. + may i request an osamu-nii cucking atsumu-nii whose morals are holding back his lust for his sister?
These are two very similar requests as in they’re almost the exact same so I’m assuming that one person sent in the same request twice. It’s been on my accepted list since I received it so there was no reason to send it in twice, but if two people sent in different requests: If your request seems similar to something I haven’t done yet but is in my wips, wait until I get to it. Next time this happens, I’ll delete both requests.
Late at night, Atsumu didn’t think anybody else would be awake. Putting on a match between the Red Falcons and Black Jackals, he puts in his earbuds to avoid waking anybody up. He doesn’t admit it to anyone except you, but he likes to imagine himself as the setter for the Black Jackals, the one that helps all the outside hitters score ridiculous amounts of points. He likes the color scheme of the Black Jackals and loves to watch replays of their wins, even their losses, watching how the team flawlessly blends together yet show their individuality.
Through the earbuds, he didn’t have the game volume on high which allowed him to hear noises from your room — beside him. Pausing the game, he took out one bud to listen in on what you were doing, hearing the creaking of your mattress and your voice — along with Osamu’s. Curiosity peaked when he heard his brother, curious to see what you two were talking about so late.
“You have to be quiet, ‘Samu,” your hushed voice said, your next sentence almost breathless. “‘Tsumu is next to me, y’know,”
“He sleeps like a log, won’t even budge awake. I made sure he was ‘sleep before I came in. No light at all, we’re fine,” Osamu says, small pauses in between as if he was using his mouth for something else. Atsumu completely stopped the video, turning his phone off completely as to not alert them he was indeed awake. Your breathless moans filled in the silence after Osamu finished speaking, leading Atsumu to one conclusion:
You and Osamu were fucking, or we’re about to.
Now, Atsumu can’t be too upset, knowing he’s often listened in on you masturbating yourself, wondering how you’d react to him joining you or sliding hints he knew what you did in your room when you thought he was tuned into a match. He didn’t know you would turn to Osamu when he slept, but now he’s glad for a sleepless night. Unable to hold back, he pulls down the waistband of his sweats and boxers, finding himself hard just by thinking of you and Osamu. Well, it could be you and him, but that would require him to act on his sinful desires. He had come to accept his fate on the sidelines, wishing he was every boyfriend you ever had. Did you fuck Osamu behind their backs, too? How much time has Atsumu spent wallowing in his desires, thinking nothing would come of it, while you spent your time with your other brother?
A sharp moan comes from you, snapping him from his thoughts, before your noises are muffled, hushed whispers from Osamu. Atsumu can’t hold himself back, shoving a pillow against his chest and biting down on it, shuffling close enough to the wall he can hear your bed whining under Osamu’s weight. Wrapping one hand around his cock, he closes his eyes to try and imagine just what is going on beyond the wall.
Your moans are still soft, probably due to your own hand and willpower keeping them down, perhaps one hand in Osamu’s hair as he peppers kisses along your body. He wonders what you’d taste like, would you be as sweet as he hoped you’d be? Mewl as sweetly as he imagined? With no holds barred, he could imagine you in a pretty white gown, moaning so sweetly as he wrapped his lips around your clit, fingers rubbing against your sensitive walls. Another muffled squeal comes from you, Atsumu’s hand moving faster as he imagines you sounding like that as if he was entering you, deflowering you as he always imagined he would.
Would you still turn to Osamu if you were betrothed to Atsumu? Would you prefer Osamu over Atsumu?
Atsumu can hear your moans get higher and louder, only to be muffled as Osamu’s groans mingle with them. He curses his brother for covering up your noises, but he falls back into his mind, imaging he’s the one fucking you. Your legs would probably wrap around his waist, tugging his closer as he gets closer to finishing. It’s almost too hot for him, hand rubbing the red skin as he finishes, white semen dribbling down his cock and covering his pillow — which is white, thankfully. He imagines you came as well, hearing pants and wet, loud kisses coming from the two of you, basking in the afterglow.
Even as he sits there, dirty tissues in his trash can, even as he hears Osamu leave you with a “I’ll be back tomorrow, baby,” he can’t bring himself to let you know. He’s not like Osamu, he’s not glutton for anything he can get. Atsumu has too much pride to go to you; instead, he’ll wait up tomorrow to see how you sound. His imagination will do the rest.
(Eren, Reiner, Armin, Jean, Connie, Levi, and Erwin)
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□ AN: I wrote this in between second covid vaccine naps, so just bear with me. All characters are aged up.
□ NSFW, mDNI
□ TW: smidge of ddlg, mommy kink, mentions of BDSM, Eren has anger issues, dubcon if you squint, cum eating
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Eren Jaeger
He’s so focused on his goals that he doesn’t really have the time to think about his feelings. So he doesn’t masturbate very often and definitely doesn’t have sex (see above), so the act is usually a last resort stress relief.
The first time he did it, he accidentally said your name. The next day, he couldn’t stop staring at you, wondering when he developed such feelings. He would look way quickly with a bright red blush whenever you caught him staring. But you became an addiction and obsession for him, something very dangerous.
Angry. Everything this man does is fueled by rage and that includes some good ole self love. He’s grunting your name through gritted teeth while his hard cock is weeping precum over his tight fist. He’s fast, and he’s messy.
He always feels disgusted with himself afterwards. He thinks it’s a waste of time and energy. While he always has a clearer head in terms of what to do next, his thoughts and emotions are a big mess when it comes to you. He thinks he doesn’t deserve you, that you would only get hurt with him. But yet each time he paints his stomach white while crying for you, he falls a little bit more into you.
If you caught him, he’d be very aloof and ask if you planned on just standing there. Either leave or help him out.
Sweat dripped down Eren’s toned body as he jerked his hand up and down his angry cock. Precum was weeping from his slit, and he could only dream that it was your sweet juices making his cock so wet. He threw his head back, thumping against the headboard, as he chanted your name like his favorite prayer. Hot, sticky ropes of cum fell on his stomach, cooling rapidly against his overheated skin.
Eren gulped down oxygen, trying to regain his breath as he climbed down from his high. His fist unfurled from his softening cock and fell on the bed beside him. He lifted his head slightly before banging it back against the hard wood with a loud thunk.
“Goddammit.”
You stood behind his door, cracked just a little to give you the most delicious glimpse of Eren in his afterglow. A rough voice startled you out of your ogling as intense green eyes met your doey ones.
“You plan on standing there all day, princess? Close the door and leave,” Eren grunted. “Or better yet, come here and help me out a little.”
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Reiner Braun
A gentle giant who deserves so much love. He’s been through so much, so who can blame him for wanting a little bit of stress relief.
This man is so embarrassed the first time he cums to you. He thought you were just a friend, despite everyone else saying there was more between the two of you. So when he’s fisting himself to the thought of your soft voice calling his name, he can’t look at you the next day.
He can’t help himself after that. You invade every part of his mind and his dreams and fantasies are filled with you. His favorite fantasy is you riding him, while he peppers your body in sweet kisses and praises.
If you were to catch him, he would stop instantly and try to cover himself and hide from you. His face would flush red as a tomato as he stammered out apology after apology.
It’s only when you step into his room and take his massive hand in yours does he understand the feelings are mutual.
“Reiner?” you called, looking for your friend. You walked down the dark hallway of the shack you called home. Your oldest friend was having a difficult week watching the children train and fight, so you opened your heart and home to him.
You had heard crying earlier, and wanted to make your gentle giant a soothing cup of tea and ask if there was anything you could do to help. It broke your heart seeing Reiner this way.
As you neared the door, you heard panting coming from Reiner’s room.
“Reiner!” you yelled as you opened the door, fearing the worst for your friend.
Reiner looked at you before flushing a bright tomato red. His large hands wrapped around his generously endowed length. He stammered your name and quick apologies.
You walked towards him, closing the door behind you with a swift kick. You eased his large hands away from his hard cock. Confusion swam in his eyes before you cupped his cheeks in your hands and pulled him in for a soft kiss.
“I wish I had known sooner,” you said. “You know, I’ve loved you since we were kids.”
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Armin Arlet
Overall, Armin is really quiet when he’s pumping himself. It’s not until he gets closer to his end that he’s whining your name.
Armin stays in his room. He may tease himself in the shower, but he prefers to finish in the absolute privacy of his room.
The next day, he’ll be all blushes when he sees you, but you’re so used to Armin’s quiet demeanor that you don’t really think too much of it. Maybe he just had a stomachache and needed to go.
Armin is a master manipulator. He’s possessive and competitive even if not outwardly so. His fantasies can get dark, as he thinks of ways to rig you up, edge you, and fuck you until you know nothing but his name. He dreams of ways to mark you, sweet and innocent you, as his own.
Armin is a switch. While he dreams of taking you for his own, Armin also likes to fantasize about you torturing him. He wants to be wrapped completely in you as he begs you to “please please please” let him cum.
Whines could be heard from Armin’s room through the wall. You were the only one who seemed concerned for him. Eren and the others simply snickered when you mentioned strange noises coming from Armin’s room.
“Why don’t you check on him?” Jean suggested, prompting laughter from the rest of the men.
“Since I’m the only here who seems to care about him, maybe I will,” you said defensive, before stomping your way back to Armin’s room.
You knocked once, twice, and were met with Armin’s whines of your name.
“Armin!” you cried, throwing the door open.
“No! Don’t come in!” the blonde sobbed, but it was too late. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, in full view of you with his hard cock in hand.
“Oh, baby,” you cooed, eyes holding a dangerous glint as you stalked towards Armin. “Let mommy help, okay?”
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Jean Kirstein
A little aloof and obnoxious about it. So what if he masturbates, everyone does. It’s great stress relief. Man has a point.
Jean does try to muffle his sounds. As much as he doesn’t care that people know what he’s up to, he doesn’t intend on giving a show. He also doesn’t intend on everyone knowing it’s you he’s thinking of when his hand slides up and down his long cock.
Jean likes to bite. His pillowcase and sheets are full of tears from where he bites down, wishing it was your soft skin that he was sinking his teeth into. This does help to muffle his noises.
Jean is a talker. He loves dirty talk and will talk to himself while thinking of you. His favorite fantasy is him lavishing you in praises, saying you’re such a “good girl for daddy”.
While Jean is open that he does indeed masturbate, he is very defensive if he gets caught. He tries to cover himself and make up very poor excuses.
“Hey, Jean,” you called before bouncing into your lover’s bedroom. “Have you seen my—.” The sight before you cut you off.
On his bed lay Jean. The white sheets tangled into his legs as he pumped his cock with smooth rhythmic strokes. His head thrown back and eyes clenched shut, tell-tale signs that he was reaching his end. Your name fell from lips in light praises as he called you his good girl and imagined you wrapped tightly around him, milking him. With a heavy grunt, Jean came, spraying his chest with his hot cum.
The sound of light clapping from across the room jerked him out of his afterglow. Jean turned away from you, stammering at you to get out as he pulled up his sheets to cover himself.
“But daddy,” you cooed as you walked forward, swaying your hips just the way Jean liked. “Am I not good enough for you?”
You fake pout had Jean already hard again.
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Connie Springer
An addict and everyone knows it. He is also very defensive over this, stating it’s a healthy stress relief compared to drugs or alcohol. No one can really disagree with him, so he’s left alone.
He prefers the privacy of his room, but will absolutely rub one out in the showers that may or may not be shared by the other men.
The only one who could probably hold eye contact with you the next day after you catch him. You have the same sense of humor, so that helps.
You and Connie are close friends, who spill the dirty details over everything to each other, except of course how badly you want each other. Even Mikasa can see it.
Connie has a slight savior complex. His favorite fantasy is you calling him a hero and asking how you could repay him for saving you.
“Tell me! Tell me!” you begged Connie the next morning at breakfast.
The man in question groaned at your insistence.
“Connie, we tell each other everything, ever since we were cadets, we left no secrets between us. Please, please tell me!”
“No,” Connie whined, hiding his burning face in his hands.
“You had a wet dream, and I want to know who it was about. Maybe I can help, put in a good word with them for you?” You smirked at your best friend’s growing discomfort. “Please, Connie,” you whispered. “I’ll give you half my lunch.” You hoped to bribe the man out of silence.
Connie jumped up and pounded his tight fists on the table. “You!” He shouted. “It was you!” His face grew beet red as the cafeteria occupants turned towards the racket. “It wasn’t a wet dream either.” His voice softened in embarrassment as he turned away from you.
“Oh.” You sat in silence with Connie for a few brief moments before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Do you mind showing me then?”
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Levi Ackerman
Very quiet about it. It’s a surprise to most when it comes out that he masturbates, but as Jean said, who doesn’t? Still, what he does in private is his own business, and no one dares to mention if they’ve caught him.
For him, it’s a form of stress relief, so he’s prone to rub one out in the privacy of his shower or office. Occasionally he’ll lay in bed, but really the shower is just so much easier to clean.
Levi’s favorite fantasy unsurprisingly involves a maid outfit. He’d die if he ever saw you in one, bent over and giving him the briefest peek of your panties.
Overstimulation king. This man’s refractory period is next to zero. Also very kinky.
Canonically, Levi is an awkward sub. If you caught him, he would freeze before getting angry and yelling at you to leave him alone. He would completely avoid any and all interaction with you to the best of his abilities, prompting Erwin and Hange to ask if you’ve done something to provoke him.
That’s if you didn’t take matters into your own hands. Your handsome captain is overworked, and it’s your duty to help.
“Captain!” you called as you barged into Levi’s office, only to find the man hunched over his desk, head resting on the desk with sweat dripping onto the cool wooden surface. His back heaved as he struggled to regain his breath.
“Captain! Are you okay?!” You panicked and ran towards your captain.
Levi jumped up, face completely drained of color. He blushed furiously as he processed that it was you who walked in on him in such a vulnerable state.
“No!” Levi yelped. “Don’t come any closer! Get out!”
You ignored your captain’s direct orders and reached out for him, noticing the sticky white coating his hand.
“Oh,” you giggled. “I see. I thought I had cleaned everything, but it seems I missed a spot.” You raised Levi’s hand to your lips before licking him clean. You held his icy gray eyes in your darkening gaze as you drank everything he had to offer.
You smiled as you glanced down at his cock, already hardening once again.
“Do you want help with that,” you asked coyly. “Captain?”
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Erwin Smith
This man makes a goddamn show out of the act. He is sprawled on silk sheets, sporting nothing but an untied emerald green robe that lavishly falls on either side of him.
An exhibitionist who really doesn’t care if he’s caught. In fact, he hopes you walk by and hear him moaning your name. His favorite fantasy is you walking in on him like this. His bed is facing the doorway and he’s propped against luxurious pillows just in case.
He’s also loud. LOUD. He wants to be heard.
He pampers himself before and after like a true king. His skin is soft from a fresh shower, complete with moisturizing routine. Afterwards, he’ll take a few moments to regain his breath before collecting himself to clean up. He’s very careful to get all his cum on his own body and not his robe or sheets.
An arrogant bastard, but can back himself up. He has every reason to think so highly of himself and his sexuality.
You heard the deep moans from down the hall before you even neared your commander’s bedroom. Erwin’s deep, breathy pants of your name filled the empty hallway and echoed around you. You blushed furiously as you tried to pass, making your way to your own sleeping quarters.
As you passed, you noticed the door to Erwin’s bedroom was cracked open. You had always had a thing for your Greek god of a commander, and couldn’t help yourself as you peeked in through the open door.
You watched Erwin stroke himself, his perfect hand sculpted by Michelangelo himself moving up and down on his thick cock.
Erwin came with a deep grown of your name, as he painted his chiseled chest white. The sounds of Erwin’s ecstasy hitting you straight in your core as your own sex pulsed with need.
“Ah!” Erwin called, a dangerous glint in his ocean eyes. “Just the person I wanted to see!”
Curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction would bring it back.
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Bonus: Dick HCS
Eren: Above average in girth and length. He’s full of lean muscle and his dick matches. He has a nice curve too.
Reiner: Very well endowed. He’s a giant and his dick suits him. He’ll stretch you nicely and hit your cervix every time.
Armin: Just above average, but he worries he’s small. You remind him that he fits you just right.
Jean: longer than average, but of average girth. He’s a little self conscious of himself until you call him “daddy” and praise his cock.
Connie: average but knows how to use it and please you
Levi: this short king is packing and you know it
Erwin: a monster and he knows it. This man is unpacking a slip-n-slide every time he takes his pants off.
“behave while i’m gone, i gotta get something at the store.” she says sternly.
you nod, putting the last of your plates on the rack before turning on the dishwasher. “is sukuna coming with you?”
“no,” she replies, scrolling through her phone before slipping it in her purse, “he’s taking a nap right now. you better leave him alone.”
“i will.”
“alright. i’m not planning on leaving him any time soon. you need to warm up to him somehow, darling.”
after you hear the click that signified she was out, you groan exasperatedly.
sukuna.
he’s the only thing your mom had paid all her attention to these past few months. you want to be happy for her, you really do, but it almost feels impossible and you can’t pinpoint the exact reason why. you don’t know what it is about the man. the cocky expression on his face that never falters, his tanned skin clad in tattoos, his piercing gaze that always radiates an aura dominance, it all made you feel uneasy.
of course, your mom would notice. it wasn’t uncommon for you to keep your interactions with him short and limited despite the fact he had been living with you for months. it wasn’t uncommon for you to retire to your room once he came home from work. and for your mom, it was all translated to one thing; you simply just did not like him. at all.
if only it was that simple.
you truly wish it was that simple because you’ve been repulsed by people before. hell, you’ve disliked tons of people and still continue to do so. you know the uneasiness that hits you whenever you’re near them. you know how hard your teeth clench, how your chest burns, how your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sound of their voice.
but that wasn’t it. this uneasiness came with fast heartbeats, fluttering feelings in your stomach, and flushed cheeks. this uneasiness came with the inability to form sentences, unconscious stares, and invaded thoughts. this uneasiness came with imagination, slight jealousy, and damp underwear.
so, no. it wasn’t that simple and it would never ever be that simple. you don’t know who you should feel sorry for. maybe your mother. your dear, flawed mother who decided that you needed a father figure after eighteen years of its absence. maybe sukuna, who probably was just looking for a wife or some fun, not a family. maybe yourself, your own clouded mind betraying you with sinful lust.
nonetheless, here you are.
here you are, chores done, bedroom door wide open, pulling your shorts down and throwing them off somewhere on your bed. he’s in the master bedroom right across from yours in the hallway, sleeping soundly. you can just barely make out the little snores leaving his mouth which is enough just for you.
you can’t help but admire him while he’s in this peaceful state. he’s handsome with structured cheeks, black ink that adorns most of his skin, and big hands that can completely cover yours in his fist with ease.
your panties are damp, sticking to your wet cunt. they become more and more ruined the more you think about him and you sigh. it happens every time. it starts with a thought, some kind of seed that sows in your head, and your mind elevates it until the thought progresses to something dirty, something shameful, something that is so wrong.
you should be happy for your mom.
it all goes out the window when you think about the large hand that steadies your waist every time you almost fall, one with a tight grip that brings back that fluttering feeling in your stomach. more black ink that compliments the veins running through them and silver rings that decorate his fingers. you’re sure, positive, that they’re thicker than your own, able to reach deeper than you ever could by yourself.
your hand travels down to your clit, rubbing slow circles on the small bud as you sigh in relief at finally being able to touch yourself after weeks. you travel lower, your finger prodding at your hot core before slipping in until you’re knuckles deep. starting off with slow strokes, you build everything up until you’re ready for another finger. you squeeze your eyes shut, an image in your mind forming as it always does when you’re in this state.
and it’s sukuna.
it’s sukuna and his fingers that would fill you up nicely, stretching your hole to the point where the line of pain and pleasure is difficult to decipher. and he’s looking at you with that piercing gaze again, the one that demands control and submission. he’s pumping his fingers at a painstakingly slow pace and so are you. when you imagine him hitting that sweet spot, you curl your fingers.
your shirt is pulled up above your breasts, one hand massaging your tit as you get lost in your own pleasure. it all feels so good, the knot in your lower tummy forming and tensing while your pussy drools all over your sheets. you’re letting out involuntary squeaks, your senses being overcome by the impending wave of bliss.
a groan from the other room interrupts the scene in your head.
the sound causes you to freeze, eyes suddenly widening as you turn in its direction. there’s a smirk plastered on sukuna’s face as his eyes follow your figure intently. from what you can make out, it’s possible that he’s been awake for a while now. your heart pounds out of your chest, body shaking from the amount of guilt and embarrassment. does he know you were thinking about him? can he sense the lewd scene you’ve put together to get off?
a million thoughts race through your mind, but the most prominent one is louder than the rest; why was he looking at you like that?
he folds over the blanket, revealing an intimidating imprint that pokes through his boxers, all the while staring straight at you. your cunt still stuffed with your own sopping fingers and you take it as a silent demand to keep going.
you obey, something that any good girl would do.
“come on, princess,” he calls out from his room, his cock springing up to his stomach as he pulls down his underwear and it’s better than anything you’ve imagined. the pink tip drips with precum and like his fingers, he’s thick and long. he spits in his hand and you gawk at the sight, saliva spilling at the side of your parted lips and he returns with his usual cocky expression.
three fingers thrust into you, knuckles deep, while he pumps his pretty cock in his fist, eyes following your every aspect of your current position. you pinch your nipple, letting out a small mewl, while attacking the spongy spot that never fails to have you squirting all over your sheets.
but you wish it was his thick cock filling you up instead.
you know that if you ever got the chance to have him stuffing you full, it would ruin the sensation of your fingers. you know that your little digits would never be able to compensate for something that huge. and seeing him fuck his fist makes your walls convulse because you know that this isn’t one sided. any crumb of guilt that was there before is wiped from your mind.
the only thing you can think about is his cock splitting your little cunny in half, pounding into your cervix while you struggle to take his full length. he wouldn’t be gentle, you know that, but you’d prefer it that way. he would pin your knees to your chest, caging your body with his arms, balls slapping against the skin of your plush ass. he’d hit every spot that you couldn’t, driving into you ruthlessly. and it wouldn’t end there because he would want to ruin you. he’d want you cumming over and over again on his cock until you’re a ruined, babbling mess begging for him to stop.
“oh- oh fuck, daddy!” you breathe out between moans, feeling wet liquid coat your thighs as your walls clamp down on your fingers. he’s almost there with you, streams of sticky white spilling onto his stomach at the sound of your sweet voice. your back arches of the bed as you cream all over your fingers, panting exhaustedly while bringing them up to your mouth, sucking softly. he’s practically staring holes through your body, his cock twitching once again.
but your mom can be back anytime with the groceries. and he really needs to clean those sheets.
Tw: embarrassing incidents; mentions of masturbation; that's it ig
Kiyoko:
Totally got caught farting by Tanaka. But she was professional about it. Like,,, "Excuse me, I had to fart."
Yukie:
Got caught ugly choking on food. Totally embarrassing incident because the food came back out and she spat it onto the table in an unappealing-looking clump. Everyone on the table gagged or choked.
Saeko:
Got caught masturbating. No details, sorry.
Natsu:
Got spanked by mom in public. Much more embarrassing than it sounds because a classmate was present and the next day everyone in the class was asking her if her butt still hurt.
Michimiya:
Got caught making funny faces behind the teacher's back. Her face turned red when the teacher turned around and caught her mid-action.
Kaori:
Got caught picking her nose. was chill with it until someone pointed out that she also bites her nails. So she was basically eating her own boogers. T R I G G E R E D.
Yachi:
She embarrassed herself onstage mid-dance. Panicked at the last moment and spun the boy instead of spinning herself.
Mattsun would tell you he’s taking you on a date and bought you a new dress, so he’d stop by your house while you’re at work. You tell him where the key is hidden and he lets himself in, setting the dress up all nice on the bed and even picking out shoes for you (he definitely has a suit with a matching tie and pocket square at home because you two are going to be that couple tonight-the stylish one everyone wants to be). Then he thinks about what you’ll be wearing under the dress. He pulls you out one of his favorite lingerie sets and as he’s laying the lace panties on the bed, an evil smirk crosses his face. He drops his pants, grabs your panties and starts stroking his cock to the thought of you until he’s ready to cum. And cum he does, all over the crotch of your underwear. He smiles at his handiwork and lays them next to the matching bra. He grabs his phone and shoots you a text. “Everything is laid out for you to wear tonight. Be a good kitten for me and make sure to wear it all just as I left it 😏”
